Rescue Heroes

We were given a used dvd of a Fisher Price toy line turned cartoon called Rescue Heroes. The action figures are discontinued, and even the dvds are hard to find, but this gem has become a household name for our home. The premiss is simple - men and women representing the different branches of civil rescue services (policeman, fireman, mountain ranger, etc) combatting life-threatening natural disaster to save humankind. Everyone loves the episodes, Caleb most of all!

This morning we were watching while a sub-character helps the Rescue Heroes save a boy from drowning. The sub-character must perform CPR on the boy in order to resuscitate him. Once the boy is conscious the Rescue Heroes applaud the sub-character for, "saving a life." Caleb instantaneously turns to me and says, "I have saved a life."

Really?

Uh huh. Once there was a boy who was skateboarding on this board, and he was going like this, *stretches his arms out to mimic someone working to keep their balance* and I told him to keep his feet on the board, and not fall off.

And that saved his life?

Yep. 'Cause he listened to me, and kept his feet on the skateboard instead of falling off and dying.

Caleb turned back to the episode, full of the grace that comes from humbly doing the duty of rescue work to a world in need of your help.

Pet Peeve

I decided to roll the Tuesday Tip into a little lecture on one of my larger pet peeves. Aren't you blessed? I thought so.

Most stores provide a wonderful convenience for our use called a Shopping Cart. This ingenious invention allows us to place items into a secured basket that rolls right along with us as we browse aisles, corral children, and gab with friends. Stores have designed their layouts around these devices, including the provision of specified receptacles built specifically for their housing when they are not in use. These Shopping Cart Returns are placed liberally throughout the parking lots, and along the sidewalks immediately adjacent to the front doors of the store. We pay nothing for this service. We do not rent the carts, pay for their repair, sign them in or out. Nope, the stores generously provide all the administration for the management of their carts simply for our convenience. The one thing they ask is that we return carts to their homes when we are done using them. I don't think this is too much to ask. I find that I am often alone in my conviction, and think that perhaps there is a lack of knowledge regarding this request. Please indulge me while I share what appears to be a misunderstanding between logical economics, and sheer foolishness.

*Stores purchase and maintain carts through profits. When carts are lost, stolen, or damaged as a result of careless use (like when they are left rolling down the street by some miscreant) the cost for replacement or repair cuts into the store's bottom line. Therefore, in order to maintain their profitability stores raise their prices.

*Stores ask customers to help manage their carts so they do not need to hire additional laborers. It takes far fewer workers to collect carts from centrally located receptacles, rather than spending hours wandering around the parking lot picking up carts onsie-twosie every other parking space. This saves them money through a lower overhead of operational costs, which translates to lower prices for us.

*When carts are left outside of their intended return corrals they inevitably cause damage to vehicles in the parking lot. The cost of covering these damages comes out of our pockets.

Is anyone else seeing a theme? Taking care of the carts = savings. But the other point to my irritation is the intangible benefit - things like respect for fellow shoppers. How many times have you been unable to utilize a parking space because it is jammed with shopping carts (which, for reasons I am baffled by, were unable to be returned the 20 ft to the actual cart return). What about coming back to your vehicle only to realize that you can't access your side door because a cart, not present when you arrived, has been wedged between your space and the one next to you? Or, have you ever been detained by a line of shopping carts 50ft long standing motionless while the worker wanders around the parking lot collecting stray carts? These minor irritants wouldn't be so bad, if they were not completely unavoidable!!

So, my Tuesday Tip (on Wednesday) coupled with one of my largest pet peeves is: Return Your Shopping Carts. It saves you money, and it saves my nerves.

Tuesday's Tip

Set up a separate account where you can accrue money in a timely, budgeted manner for those large premiums that hit you once, or twice a year. The advent of safe, electronically linked accounts makes it easier than ever to open a savings separate from your checking where you can arrange regularly scheduled withdrawals and deposits without a minimum balance, and often with a decent interest rate. ING Direct is a workhorse for our family, giving me the ability to set aside insurance premiums, yearly membership fees, subscription renewals, and so forth. Getting the funds out of my checking insures that I don't inadvertently spend what isn't really mine! And you can add up to two linked ATM accounts, perfect for a His and Hers miscellaneous. Now, Christopher and I know exactly how much money we can spend on our own frivolities, while also resting assured that the big premium due at the end of the month is safely tucked away, in full. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Nesting

I am nesting... although what I am doing looks closer to a crazed woman forgetting to take her green pill, and trying to act normal without it! Something in me clicked about 3 weeks ago, and I don't know if anyone, myself included, is going to survive.

So far I have painted two bedrooms, settled on final themes for the boys' room, the master bedroom, and getting closer to a decision in the girls' room. I purchased the much anticipated large area rug for my living room, and awkwardly unrolled it by myself (because I wasn't willing to wait an hour until my husband got home). I dragged Christopher to Home Depot, where we special ordered the mirrored closet doors for our bedroom, and when I got home I got the idea of going back to purchase, and install, bi-fold louvered closet doors for the kids' rooms. I am planning on checking into them this weekend. I have the girls' bedroom to paint (pale pink, with stripes on one wall), pictures to take (black and white of the kids) and frame, the schedule to make for everyone watching the kids while I am in the hospital, care to arrange, and transportation to finalize. I have a vinnette pictured for the end of my bed, and now I just need to find the perfect, slightly distressed, black ladder-back chair to complete it. My kitchen is nearly finished, with a carpenter coming today to install the two missing drawers absent since escrow. I will need to paint them, but that's minor! I have vines I purchased which need to be planted, weeds which need to be pulled, indoor plants which need to be hung, outdoor plants which need to be pruned. The baby clothes need washing, moses basket trimmed, layette purchased, hospital bag packed, toenails painted, hair cut, and allergy appointments managed for several of the kids. My auto-pay bills need to be confirmed, and any necessary hand-paid bills must be arranged so they don't fall due while I am in the hospital, or during my immediate recovery at home. I want to wash the slipcovers on my couch and chair, do a thorough linen change for the entire house, scrub the bathrooms, and mop my entire home (hardwood floors). I have clothes to finish sorting, packing, and stacking, at least 2 trips to the Salvation Army in the works, a television to offload, and one AWANA trophy that desperately needs a home other than my mantle. 

I don't think this is unreasonable. I think that may be an unreasonable thing to think.

Reepicheep

When Christopher and I were first married we had a mouse in our house. Yikes! He stuck around long enough that we named him, Reepicheep. My husband, being the strong, masculine, leader of our home, wanted to purchase the standard "they haven't made a better one" mousetrap but I, being the delicate and sensitive blushing bride, wished a far more humane option. Christopher, much to his chagrin, purchased Glue Boards which advertised the safe capture of mice, giving the option of release back into the wilds. Perfect!

We set the board up in our cupboard, and the next day I found a mouse conveniently stuck to it. I was elated, although a little surprised at the obvious state of desperation Reepicheep was in. I read the instructions for the safe release of this harmless creature. I had to use mineral oil to slide the mouse off the super-sticky board, and into a container. I followed each step, and soon had a slathered-in-oil mouse frantically cheeping in a bucket on my countertop. But then it happened... that mouse JUMPED! I had no idea mice could jump, let alone roughly the height of the Eiffel Tower. But up he went, and splat into the sink he landed. I acted quickly, turning the bucket upside down onto the squirming fur-ball in the bottom of my sink. Now all I had to do was figure out a way to slide a board under the bucket and all would be set. Except I hadn't counted on the drain, and precisely the instant I realized the possible hazard of that mouse-hole looking opening - PLOP, down went the mouse into my drain. Great.

So, I did what any independent, newly married, domestic goddess would do. I called my husband (who worked 45 minuted away) and cried out, "What am I doing to do now?" I explained everything, even making it clear that I had used a flashlight and running water to try and entice the mouse to jump out of his hole, but all to no avail. As much as I wanted a humane capture and release of this innocent animal, I certainly wasn't daft enough to stick my hand into the drain to try and grab the mouse by force. After all, mice bit and carried disease!

"There is only one thing you can do, Trisha. Turn on the garbage disposal." WHAT! I was incredulous. He wanted me to grind this poor thing to smithereens. I flatly refused, telling him there was no way I could be that heartless and cruel. At that profound statement I rounded the corner in my tiny apartment only to see steam billowing out of the kitchen sink. AHHHH! I had inadvertently turned the hot water on, rather than the cold, and was now surely searing Reepicheep to death. "Christopher, I am scalding it to death!" Again, the cold and determined voice of my husband rang loud and clear, "Trisha, turn on the disposal, now." I squealed, I fretted, I stood immobilized while the hot water kept gushing into the drain until finally I shouted, "Fine!" I flipped the switched, ran shrieking out of the kitchen and sobbed into the phone, "Are you happy? I did it." Christopher calmly told me to make sure I poured bleach down the drain before declaring his love, and a pressing meeting he had scheduled. We have dealt with a few mice since then, but my willingness to see them exterminated quickly has given me the proper perspective for the, "they haven't made a better one" mousetrap.

Recently we found signs of a mouse in our new home, and Christopher dutifully set a trap in our garage. The following day all the bait was gone, but the trap was intact. Humph. We tried again, and again, but each morning we found an empty trap with no mouse. How on earth were they getting the bait without triggering the trap? We were stumped, and a little irritated. The single mouse turned into two, and their boldness was becoming increasingly annoying. We finally caught one after setting the trigger to ultra-sensitive. But a few more days of empty traps were wearing on our nerves when last night the second mouse practically ran over Christopher's foot while he stood at our sink. We put the kids to bed, rebaited our trap, barely hinged the spring, and set it in the middle of our kitchen floor before we sat down to watch a movie. Not ten minutes later we heard the decidedly lethal snap of the trap doing its job. Yes! We sat back, and prepared to finish our movie in smug exultation when, not 15 minutes later, a mouse peeped out from under the chair in our living room!

This was war.

Christopher grabbed a fresh trap, baited it and set it up along the baseboard of our living room. We flushed the mouse from his hiding place under the chair and trapped him in the corner behind the entertainment armoire. We turned the movie back on, to lure the little brute into a sense of security, and proceeded to stare at the trap. Sure enough within five minutes that beast was nibbling at our prepared morsel. We were holding our breath, waiting for the trap to spring. But it didn't budge. We sat mesmerized as that horrid little thing ate through all our bait not once, but twice! That was it. I was done.

"Get out the vacuum!" I declared. I grabbed a hunk of cheese off the block, stuffed it into the hose of my vacuum, laid the opening next to the armoire and sat, finger poised on the trigger while Christopher made sure the rascal didn't escape around the other side. We sat. We waited. Then suddenly out he popped, and scurried right past the hose until something caught his nose. He stopped. He sniffed in the air. He made his way back to the hose opening, and took a cautious step into the tube. Another. Still another, until all but his tail was lost in the tube and... WHAM, I threw the switch and head the satisfying thunk as the mouse was sucked through the hose, and into the vacuum bag! Christopher and I were jubilant, yelling congratulations and slapping high-fives. It wasn't until several moments later that the hilarity of my history with standard mouse-trapping and killing techniques was truly appreciated. Who says they haven't made a better mousetrap? Garbage disposals and vacuum cleaners seem pretty cutting edge to me.

Tuesday's Tip

There are at least as many theories about grocery shopping on a budget as there are grocery stores. Dozens of books line the shelves guaranteeing easy, instant savings of thousands if you only use their proven approach to meal preparation. I am sure much of what they say is true. And I also know that I don't have the time to clip coupons, sort coupons, remember coupons, use coupons, and manage my grocery shopping around specialized coupon days. I have a family to feed.

Then I learned about something remarkable called, loss leaders. These charming little sales are used by grocery stores to lure you into their business in the hopes that you will ultimately spend more money than if you were to never enter their building. Pretty good guess. And for most people it probably does the trick. But, if you are an informed buyer, like I am about to make you, then you can take full advantage of sales where the store actually loses money on the deal, keep the extra cash you are saving, and come away with meal plans to boot! Here's how it works:

The mid-week circulars you get in your mail from local grocery stores have a plethora of "bargains" printed on their pages. However, the front and back pages are loss leaders, sales the store is losing money on. The front page is usually given to meats, the back to fresh veggies and fruits. Rather than premeditating a meal plan for the week, trying to find and fit coupons into that preexisting meal plan, and then shopping to fulfill it you can actually save more time and money beginning with the loss leaders. 

Check the 2 or 3 circulars you receive, and note what meat looks the most appealing for the least amount of expense. This isn't always chicken! Beautiful cuts of red meat can be had for pennies if you keep your eyes peeled. Once you have decided on the meat you can breeze through your recipe book for a couple of different meals which include that cut. For instance, pot roast is on sale and you decide to make pot roast by itself one night, shepherd's pie one night, and finally sloppy joes for another meal. Turning to the back page you see what fruits and veggies are on sale. This is great because it often means you are eating what is fresh, in season, and most nutritious. Think outside of corn, potatoes, and carrots. Broccoli, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, fresh green beans, spinach and others have wonderful tastes, and can be prepared in a variety of ways. Fruit is a great desert item, and carries a significantly better nutritional punch than typical ice creams or candies. Cantaloupe, peaches, apricots, melons, plums, oranges, and different kinds of apples can be sliced fresh for an easy tossed fruit salad, baked for a warm surprise, or served on top of cottage cheese. 

Regardless of how you chose to utilize the loss leaders, I encourage you to use them. Taking advantage of sales that don't require the coupon overhead is a great way to save money and time!

Leah's Three Friends

Leah has a few friends. One is Ariel. Sally is another. Hotspotch is a third. Ariel plays only when she is not nearing death either as a result of disciplinary action taken against her using the penal code for lying to Leah or, some fatal wound she incurred while going about her business-as-usual. Sally doesn't say much, since she is usually in Leah's tummy awaiting birth. And Hotspotch doesn't like Caleb, so the two can't play much because Leah has some, albeit fickle, familial loyalty. Take, for example, the following conversation overheard between Caleb and Leah in reference to Hotspotch.

Hotspotch doesn't like you Caleb. I don't play with him very much because he could beat you out.

Leah, Hotspotch couldn't beat me out.

Yep, he could Caleb.

Why?

Because he is big. And he doesn't like you.

But I don't like Hotspotch.

No, Caleb. Really! You are just plain 5, and I am just plain 4, but Hotspotch isn't even regular 6 he is real 6, and he can beat you out.

*gives an exasperated sigh* Leah! It isn't "beat you out" it's "beat you up." And Hotspotch can't even touch me, because I have so much real army gear that I could totally win.

Word must have reached Hotspotch about Caleb's covert-ops training (gear), because he has taken to cover leaving only Leah to defend his "real 6" prowess.

Tuesday's Tip

Backup. One of life's little lessons that you learn only when your computer has crashed, and taken your life with it! Take the time to backup. Take the time to do it, again. Take the time to do it on a separate drive. Take the time to make a hard copy off your computer. Take the time. Backup.

The Bible Says We Should Take Our Time

We have accepted a biblical worldview as our paradigm for life. This means that our goal is to base all of our beliefs, as well as all our actions, on the truths taught in the bible. We work hard to train our children to understand that we do not simply choose, arbitrarily, the rules which govern our home. Our hope is that by explaining to them that we answer to a higher calling they can learn to appreciate the reasons behind our decisions, and not just submit begrudgingly. Occasionally this has a rather comedic side - like when our children decide to throw a little bible at us for their disobedience. Tonight was a great example!

Caleb was struggling with diligence. He was lolligagging, dilly-dallying, and generally shirking his responsibilities by simply wasting time. After a rather stern series of discussions, some unpleasant consequences, and a final opportunity to prove himself, he was once again working to follow through with his chore in a timely manner. He came across a single hairband that belonged in the girls' room, and proceeded to leave his current duty to put it away. This action should have taken all of 30 seconds, since our house is roughly the size of a matchbox, and the hairband only needed to be placed on top of the girls' dresser. Nearly 4 full minutes later Caleb sauntered back to his original duty.

Son, that should not have taken you that much time. What took you so long?

I was taking my time.

Caleb, I have explained to you multiple times this evening that you need to work on your diligence. When I tell you to do something you should do it quickly, efficiently, and with a good attitude. 

Well, the bible says we should take our time.

Really? Where does it say that?

I don't know. But it should.

I chuckled to myself! The conversation could have been between me and God - trying to rationalize any number of behaviors, habits, or desires that are unbiblical but to which I continue to stubbornly hold.

Matthew 18:3

And he [Jesus] said, "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."

Gagging on Tums

The following will make little sense to you if you have not first read my blog entry: And Now... A Word From Our Sponsor. 

My mom thought that Gaviscon would get a kick out of hearing from one of their satisfied customers, and so emailed the link to the above-mentioned blog entry. She received the following reply a short while later.

We have received your e-mail regarding Gaviscon® antacid.

It's always a pleasure to hear from a satisfied customer and we're glad to hear that you are enjoying such good results from using our product. 

We think it's a great product as well and it's good to know that it's working so well for you. We appreciate your taking the time to contact us and will pass along your communication to some of the other people who are on the Gaviscon® team. We all love messages like yours!

The blog from the link, indicated that your daugter was trying to gag down on Tums. We would like to personally address her concerns. So please have her call one of our Representatives at the number listed below.

She can reach us toll-free at 1-800-897-7535 weekdays between 9:00 a.m. and 4:30 p.m. Eastern Time. When she calls, please have her refer to the Case ID number below and have the product in hand. We appreciate your taking the time to contact us.

Sincerely,

Uma

GlaxoSmithKline Consumer Healthcare

I was intrigued, to say the least, by the fact that they obviously read my blog, and were interested in following up with my Tums ordeal. Was I being chosen to be a new spokeswoman? Were they going to ask if they could reimburse me in order to use my testimony? I figured I was easily on my way to independent wealth.

I called, and after the initial frustration of being on hold for 15 minutes, being disconnected during a transfer, and then waiting an additional 1o minutes to get back to a human I was finally explaining to the GlaxoSmithKline representative the reason for my call.

Yes, we are concerned with your struggle to "gag down Tums." We want to make sure you are okay.

Oh. Ummm, well, yes I am fine.

Because we don't want anyone gagging down their antacid. Was their a particular problem you were facing?

Uhh, a particular problem? I just don't like them.

So they were causing you to gag?

Do you know what a blog is?

Yes.

Well, I write a blog about my life and my family. I sometimes use the entries to make funny anecdotes. I wrote this blog in the style of an old TV commercial, and was using figurative language to express my distaste for Tums. I don't like the texture, the taste, and I don't find the job they do sufficient enough to warrant sacrificing these unpleasantries. 

So, it is the taste you just don't like?

Right. I mean, I am not trying to swallow them whole or anything!

Okay. I am glad to hear that.

*laughing* Oh goodness, no! I just made an exaggerated statement to communicate my thoughts more clearly. I am surprised that you are so concerned about my dislike for Tums. I wouldn't have thought a company would care so much about someone's thoughts regarding a competitive product. Unless... do you make Tums as well?

Yes, we do.

Ahhh! That explains all of this! I couldn't figure out why, more than my glowing report of Gaviscon, the email was so intent on my disappointment with Tums. Well, let me thank you for your concern but, I know how to eat them. I am not trying to swallow 10 of them whole. I simply do not like the taste, and do not find them very successful in managing my pregnancy induced heartburn.

And with that we ended our conversation, with me barely controlling my laughter until I hung up the phone. Apparently, had I been more interested in gleaning  untold amounts of wealth as a Gaviscon spokesman, I should have done a bit more research on the company, including the many other products they no doubt manufacture. Perhaps I should have used Rolaids as my nemesis. But then that would not have been true, since I have no idea if Rolaids is effective on my heartburn or not. Although I get the feeling advertising agencies, and indeed manufacturing companies themselves are not always interested in the truth.

Tuesday's Tip

Vertical storage is a divine gift. It just takes a little thought reordering to put it to practical use! I have come to believe mightily in getting things off of horizontal surfaces as much as possible. The temptation to stack, the collection of dust, and the ongoing need to create more horizontal (read table, desk, bookshelf) space is never ending. The solution? Hang it on the wall.

Hooks (for those of you who have been with me for a while know my already obsessive passion for hooks) are an incredible invention. Keys, towels, purses, jackets, backscratchers, backpacks, bathrobes, and aprons are a start for what can be managed with hooks. Towel bars take up a lot more space, and require you to fold your towels in order to utilize the space for more than one bath towel. Hooks allow your towels to dry without being folded, and you can hang several in the space it would take to position one towel bar. And don't just think of standard hooks, but dual sided screws make using cute drawer pulls another option for this space saving technique.

Baskets are another useful device, especially when hung - and not just for decoration. Incoming mail can be dropped in a basket hung by the office door rather than collecting in a heaping stack on the kitchen counter. Another basket hung on the wall above your desk can hold sorted bills awaiting payment. A large basket hung on the wall in the bathroom can covertly hide hair dyers, curling irons, and brushes, freeing up drawer space. Baskets come in more than just woven woods, including canvas and metal.

Lastly, shelves (a nod to horizontal space) can be hung on the wall in specific locations where a few containers are needed without an entire bookshelf. A small shelf hung right inside the front door can be a home for wallet and change that's' above the reach of little fingers. A floating glass shelf can show off a ceramic, house a collection of small knick-knacks, or hold a bud vase with a sprig of seasonal blooms without cluttering your coffee table!

Happy Anniversary

Today Christopher and I celebrate 12 years of marriage. It has been an exciting ride! The Lord has blessed us with 6 beautiful children, and a 7th coming in just under two months. Together, we worked hard to purchase our 1st home (which will be ours after 355 more payments *wink*). We have learned things about one another (Christopher likes mariachi music, no joke!), and have grown to appreciate the things that are different in our tastes (I'm a homebody). We have worked through some difficult times, seen next to nothing in our checking account, lost loved ones, and travelled some bitter months when we couldn't seem to speak the same language regardless of the topic! However, we are still madly in love with one another, and continually marvel that it really wasn't just yesterday that we took our vows. God has been gracious to us, giving us the opportunity to embrace our romance through thick and thin; and the din of children's voices arguing over who is going to surprise us more with their version of anniversary bliss.

Russian Roulette

There is some uncertainty surrounding the creation of this game of chance. Those of us who are parents know better! Though it had humble beginnings, which did not originally include a revolver, the identifying characteristics of the legendary game were present, I am convinced, as soon as the first toddler was able to reach both stick/toy/critter and mama's or daddy's shoe.

It is terribly obvious that this is the way the game began. How else could a single cultural penchant for risk-taking pass from generation to generation vibrant and intact? Because hardwired into every 13 month old is the secret passion of hiding their most prized possession in their parent's unsuspecting shoe. And so thousands of years later we still play Russian Roulette, often times unwittingly.

Case in point:

I am running out the door to make a dash for SaveMart before dinner demands I mix chalk with water to simulate milk. I grab my Uggs, silently blessing the invention of sheepskin boots for their comfort and convenience in inclement weather, when suddenly my toe strikes either gold or Josiah's Little People figurine. Since my boot is not the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas I am fairly certain I am not seconds away from independent wealth. No, after my heartbeat returns to normal I pull out "Sarah Lynn" who did not, of her own plastic volition, crawl into my boot and tuck herself into the very toe of my shoe. I have played Russian Roulette, and lost. Perhaps next time I will win. Then again...

Tuesday's Tip

Organize your kitchen with thought for where you use certain tools or ingredients, and not necessarily grouping like items together. For instance, if you bake frequently create a prep area with flours, dry goods, spices, and sugars along with measuring utensils stored together at this place. Sometimes this means even purchasing a second set of measuring cups or spoons, but the pay-off in easily reaching all necessary items for a quick batch of cookies will be a certain reward. Other examples are: combining a few coffee mugs, bean grinder, filter stash, and coffee/tea in one location immediately above your coffee maker for a faster cup of brew; housing most-used mixing bowls outside of their nested stack for quicker access during dinner prep; placing dishes where children who are helping with chores can reach them easily for setting the table, or unloading a dishwasher.

Think outside the box with your space, and you may find that it multiplies!

Comment

I just wanted to drop a quick note to those of you who comment on my blog (and for those of you who don't - feel guilty).

Thanks so much for letting me know what you think about my meanderings. It is great fun to read what you share. My purpose in starting the blog was to give myself a place to scribble about my life. The fact that so many of you are actually interested in reading my scribbles is really amazing! Thanks for making me feel... read. *grin*

Tuesday's Tip

I learned this one from my mom. 

Stash at least a five dollar bill into your car/backpack/wallet that you don't touch unless it is an emergency. If you can afford a twenty all the better. The point here is to make sure that you have some cash on you at all times. Don't make it a denomination that is going to tempt you if you happen into Saks when all their leather purses are 50% off - making that 500 dollar bill the exact change necessary for the purchase *wink*. On the other hand, managing to stow away one George Washington is going to get you all the way to nowhere if you need cab fare in the middle of the night. Lastly, really don't touch it unless it is an emergency. In other words, getting a hankering for chocolate ice cream when you are not conveniently located next to an ATM machine is NOT an emergency, no matter what you try to tell yourself as a rationalization.

 

And Now... A Word From Our Sponsor

I am incredibly blessed to have a pretty strong constitution. And with a few exceptions I suffer from little. However, when I am pregnant I do tend to deal with heartburn (show scene of me, belly bulging, making a sour face to indicate the obvious reflux going on in my esophagus). Yuck! The first couple of kids I had saw me trying to gag down Tums, (picture me, hair frizzed out with my bathroom counter a complete mess of bottles, opening up and spilling out literally 10 Tums into my open hand) and then wait for them to work. Then I was told about a wonder-working miracle pill (insert theme music, and show montage of me playing with my children, happily cooking dinner, and lying down for sleep with a smile on my lips).

Gaviscon

Unlike other over-the-counter medications it works two ways: first by creating a barrier which protects your esophageal opening from contact with stomach acids; and second by neutralizing your stomach acid to lower the pH (I am now standing in my clean bathroom, immaculately clad in a darling maternity outfit, easily taking just 2 Gaviscon from the bottle). So the next time you experience the occasional discomfort of heartburn associated with pregnancy, or that extra spicy tamale reach for Gaviscon, and get instant relief!

The views expressed in this blog are not affiliated with any endorsement program or monetary compensation contract. Should anyone reading this wish to thank the author for saving their life she accepts all denominations, and currencies of gifts. However, firstborns will be returned in the same manner received. Some offers and extensions may apply. Void where prohibited.

Cesarean Soapbox

I find myself taking on the mantle of cesarean awareness advocate. I didn't do this intentionally, and I must say not even willingly. But God's plans are not our own, and here I am, facing another cesarean with the realization that change must come.

I continually marvel at the incredible inroads made in natural birth. The advocacy of mother/baby health, as well as dignity, has etched permanent changes onto the face of birth. This is fabulous, and I am excited to see the options for women opening up more, and more. However, that same advocacy has not quite reached cesarean. I find this ironic since optional cesarean, and repeat cesarean is on the rise; and of course my own personal experience of five, soon to be six cesareans fuels my passion for more proactive policies based on mother/baby bonding, emotional support, and physical tenderness. Just because I walk into the hospital on the planned date, in no immediate pain, and all necessary preparations ready does not mean that my births are any less monumental. Yet, for reasons that obviously escape me, staff, doctors, and hospitals in general tend to treat cesarean births on par with hemorrhoid removal - necessary but nothing to be proud of.

I can say this with a modicum of authority, since I have delivered naturally with my first, and labored to complete with my second before beginning the cesarean journey on which I now find myself. Things like husband participation, mother/baby separation, and priority of nursing which are all seen as non-negotiables within natural delivery are a far cry from standard inclusion for cesarean. It was only my last delivery that I finally successfully argued my case for Christopher to be present during the administration of my spinal (the nearly identical procedure used for women in labor to receive an epidural). Up until that point I was walked alone into a sterilized OR room, made to face a complete stranger already garbed from head to toe in a medical gown and mask, and told to hold still while a needle roughly the size of Connecticut was inserted multiple times into the small of my back trying to find the magic spot for the anesthesia. In fact, Christopher nearly missed the birth of his first son because the nurse responsible for calling him in once the procedure was underway simply failed.

My other bone of contention is the automatic separation of mother and baby at delivery. Rather than keeping baby with Mama and Daddy during mother's repair hospitals will often whisk the newborn to the nursery, forcing Dad to make an on-the-spot decision of staying with his wife during the final stages of a rather major operation, or going with his tiny infant to participate in those first irreplaceable moments of life. No easy decision for any man! This is made all the more difficult by the realization, often coming after the decision, that once you leave the sterile OR you are not allowed to return. I have spent hours alone during the immediate post-partum rush of emotions lying on my back completely isolated from everyone. To call this depressing would be an understatement. The irritant is that it is not necessary! Hospitals do not need to remove the baby to the nursery during mother's repair. They don't do it during a natural delivery. Mother shouldn't be left alone, without husband or baby, when no medical complication requires it. The bottom line to many of these policies is staff convenience, hospital savings, and conveyor-belt like medical care. Unacceptable.

Also up for mention is the management of pain during the hours and days following the surgery. There is technology available for accurate, site based analgesics which can combine the long-lasting comfort of pain management with the freedom from systemic medications often causing drowsiness, and poor mental acuity. Of the half a dozen hospitals in the area around my home only one doctor at one hospital uses this technology. Why? Why are more hospitals not availing themselves of new advances designed to lessen patient recovery time, increase mother's comfort, and support mother/baby bonding because of the increase in alertness? Because change requires expense. It requires trial, error, and the willingness to learn something new. In other words it slows down the cash-machine of surgical birth, and places responsibility on health care professionals to do more than show up at the appointed time. I do not say this flippantly, shaking my fist to a "down with all western medicine" rally cry. I truly appreciate our country's work in the advances of medical science. I value doctors, nurses, and the many other professionals required to make even the simplest procedure possible. And I don't believe at the heart of these many people they consciously realize the ways they have divorced the humanity from the humans they care for. However, the unfortunate reality is that divorce is precisely what has happened.

So, where do we go from here? For me, I continue to work tirelessly to compassionately, but consistently explain to all parties involved what these policies mean to me, personally. Sharing the human experience opens the eyes of those worn hard by thousands of women turned faceless by sheer volume. My anesthesiologist for Josiah noted to my obstetrician that he appreciated the emotional support given to me by my husband's presence during the administration of my spinal. He pointedly observed that I seemed much more relaxed than many other mothers he worked with, and recognized that it correlated to the unique presence of Christopher. After years of professional experience it took one woman asking, "why?" to help him open his eyes to a reality not difficult to understand. It is with that encouragement that I continue to ask the same question to others.

Finally, the education and personal responsibility of other mothers, like myself, faced with cesarean delivery and unwilling to simply accept the standardized norm for the past 50 years is necessary for a real change. Health care systems can only be given half of the blame for our current climate. The truth is that if women stopped allowing others to make decisions for them, without reading, understanding, and weighing their options hospitals, doctors, nurses and staff would not be allowed to get away with the dehumanizing decisions that remove the dignity from patients in all walks of life.

But this is just my soapbox.

Tuesday's Tip

I am not naturally gifted with home meal planning. And I don't just LOVE to cook. Put these two things together, with several mouths that are dependent upon me, and it makes for a rather humorous recipe. My answer? Tuesdays' Tip.

How to freeze portions into useable dinner batches, with a faster thaw time for those of us not gifted with tomorrow night's menu already planned. I am only going to address chicken, and hamburger in this post since our family's budget does not allow us to utilize many other cuts of meat on a regular enough basis for me to include. In other words, when steak is for sale, we eat it fresh! 

Chicken: I was amazed at the price difference between whole chickens, and boneless skinless chicken breast. But how do you really utilize a whole chicken in a practical manner? If you poach your chicken, and then shred the meat, you can freeze the already cooked meat into portions useable in your recipes. The shredded meat is incredibly moist, easily used in all your casserole/ rice/ fajita recipes, and costs soooo much less then breasts. Here's how you do it:

-wash your chicken in cool water, and discard any giblets included

-place breast side down in a large (4qt or bigger) stock pot

-fill pot with enough cold water to come half-way up chicken (cold water is better)

-cover, turn on high heat to bring to a boil

-turn down heat, and simmer for an hour+ (depending on size of your chicken)

-turn off heat, let sit for another hour with lid ajar

-dump entire pot into a large strainer (this allows water to drain, and you don't loose any chicken bits - if you are really savvy you can save this water for the beginnings of homemade chicken broth)

-put on a pair of disposable gloves (this part gets messy, and using disposable gloves make clean-up much easier! Plus, you can whisk them off if a child needs you in a hurry.)

-pull chicken meat off of bone, discarding skin, or undesirable pieces

-separate shredded chicken into two piles

-place each pile into a freezer ziplock bag in a single flat layer, and freeze flat for faster defrost/ thaw time

Hamburger: Whether you buy your hamburger in bulk, or in the smaller 1 pound packages, transferring your meat to freezer ziplock bags (I used a food-saver for years, and unless you are storing meat for over a month it doesn't make a noticeable difference) helps in a couple key areas! Once you have transferred your meat squish it into a flat sheet, taking up the entire square of baggie. Freezing your meat this way does two things: economizes the room in your freezer (they stack very easily both horizontally, or standing up vertically); and cuts down significantly on you defrost/ thaw time. It also seems to lessen the formation of icicles on the meat.

Girl Play Boy Play

Girl Play

Scene 1: interior day; box of plastic animals or dolls in miniature scale; two girls sitting across from one another cross-legged in smart outfits - no stains.

Girl 1 (in British accent) - Oh dear, Brianna! I must get my hair done today or it will never do for the ball. Could you please take care of this mess?

Girl 2 (also in British accent) - Of course. Here, you sit right down and let me take care of everything.

Girl 1 - Can my pony come as well? She needs a set and curl.

Girl 2 - Oh, I would love to have her. She can come into the special part of my salon made for ponies. I just had it put in yesterday.

Girl 1 - She can be a little shy. I will call her.

Girl 2 - I have a pony too. Maybe they can be friends.

Boy Play

Scene 1: outdoor day; one of each strewn on grass: skateboard, bike, scooter, helmet, large stick, wooden rifle; two boys in holey jeans and grass-stained shirts are standing close to one another; one of them is bleeding.

Boy 1 (guttural) - Hiya!

Boy 2 (also guttural) - Umph!

Boy 1 - ARRGGH!

Boy 2 - Pshew! Pshew!

Boy 1 - Oooo!

Boy 2 - Yeeeeeaaaaaa!!

Dinner

Leah has never before eaten dinner. At least that is how it may appear to outside observers of my daughter's favorite eating routine. Leah prefers to eat her meals spread out - over, say, 4 days. During days one through three she subsists on a small bowl of oatmeal, two pieces of homemade bread, and perhaps some carrots for a days worth of nutrition. She never complains of being hungry; and will eagerly look forward to whatever meal I made only to eat the approximate serving size of an underdeveloped turtle. It's not very impressive. But then, lo and behold, day four arrives and she grows a second stomach to accommodate the extra food ingested for the occasion. Tonight's meal: Fish and Rice

3 battered and fried filets

2 cups of rice

1 cup sliced carrots

3 thick slices of homemade bread (I should note that this bread is made from fresh milled wheat, and one slice is roughly equivalent to an entire loaf of store-bought bread)

12 ounces of milk

When she finally completed her marathon event we asked her if she was full.

Hmmmm... maybe.

She had eaten more than anyone else at the table - save her father. It was his fourth day, too.

Tuesday's Tip

I have been challenged to find something even a college girl could put to use. I am prepared with this Tuesday's Tip.

Keep a small "essentials" bag with you at all times. Here's what you need:

-See-through plastic make-up bag (mine is pink *grin*). Using the see-through version makes finding items a snap. 

-baby finger nail clippers (they work just as well for hang nails, and on the go needs but are smaller)

-a couple of band-aids (if you can't raid your kids' first aid drawer go all out and splurge on Care Bear, or Lightening MacQueen)

-small pill bottle with 2 doses of all pertinent over-the-counter meds you might take such as tylenol, advil, sinus and allergy, antacid, and dramamine

-tweezers

-chap stick

-eye drops

-floss (think bigger than oral hygiene... need to tie a mattress on top of your car, and in a rush?)

Of course there are other things that may apply to you personally, but try and keep it small. The idea is not to pack an overnight bag, but to genuinely limit yourself to items that are necessary in a pinch. Think MacGyver.

Spray or Stream?

There is a universally recognized division of camps in this world - the dividing line a clear mark in the sand. Do you prefer cats, or dogs? Drink tea, or coffee? Early bird, or night owl? Spray, or stream?

This last one was not previously understood by myself until my husband so clearly, consistently, and stubbornly insisted on it. What is it, you ask? It is the way you prefer the water to flow out of the kitchen sink, when given the option.

In the process of our kitchen overhaul we purchased a beautiful farmhouse stainless steel sink. This wonderful addition required a new faucet, as the previous one was tired, scratched, and rather ugly. Our choice was an elegant arching faucet. The designers used a minimalist look, so the whole package has a sleek, no nonsense feel to it. But they didn't want to skimp on amenities, and included a detaching nozzle built into the stem, as well as hidden buttons that switch the water between spray and stream. Brilliant.

Christopher and I both really enjoy the new kitchen sink functionality. Being able to pull the nozzle out to rinse the sink is invaluable. And I greatly appreciate the spray option when needing to rinse off an exceptionally soiled utensil, or plate. But the pay-off for this is water splattering everywhere from the height, and pressure of the spray bouncing off dishes, and even the sink itself. Apparently my husband has not received this memo.

I began noticing that every time I turned the faucet on after he had been using the sink the spray option was always activated. I thought it odd that he was consistently stuck rinsing the aforementioned " exceptionally soiled utensil, or plate," but thought nothing more of it. A week passed, then another, and another until finally I was watching him do dishes one evening and noticed the faucet was permanently switched to spray.

Oh, hon your nozzle is on spray.

Yeah.

Well, don't you want to switch it to stream? It won't splash everywhere that way.

No. The spray works better.

You mean you choose the spray for everything?

Of course. Don't you?

No! The stream provides a much better wash, and makes way less mess.

So you turn the nozzle to stream all the time?

Turn it to stream? You mean you switch it back to spray?

We both stopped, and began laughing. Christopher thought the kids were playing with the nozzle, and constantly turning the water back to stream after he corrected it to spray. Its understood proper setting. I thought Christopher was forgetting to reset the nozzle from finishing some highly specialized task requiring the unique, but certainly not general purpose, use of the spray. We were in opposites camps!

I still use stream, almost without exception; and I am now convinced he turns it to spray even if only filling a glass of water for the kids to drink. Its okay though, since I am actively working to brainwash the children to recognize the superior choice.

Tuesday's Tip

This Tuesday's Tip is about my favorite chore... folding laundry. Ha! Is there any other activity more filled with monotonous boredom than folding millions of pairs of underwear? I know none.

So, I stopped.

Well, I stopped folding all those little things that our grandmothers ironed, like underwear and socks. Bibs and burpies went by the wayside as well. I purchased plastic tubs, drawer dividers, and cute baskets so each item has a contained home whether it is visible on a shelf in my living room, or tucked away in the closet. I buy one brand of white socks, and one brand of black socks for both my husband and son. This frees me from finding and pairing mates since every sock matches every other. The girls have chosen to spend a few minutes finding matches in order to have cute socks. Hey, more power to them *wink*. But honestly, when was the last time you thought to yourself:

Man, am I glad my underwear were folded because the time I spent doing that REALLY improved my day!

Exactly.

Night Terrors

There are few absolutes known about the phenomenon called night terrors. Pediatricians liken it to sleep walking, only with a rather dramatic twist. A child (adults can get them too, although it is not very common) will suddenly "wake" up screaming, and usually experiencing some manner of delusion that is incredibly terrifying. The causes are nebulous, including sleep deprivation, poor day-time routine, stress, and development of the imagination in toddler years. Experts agree that resolution of the night terror is best done with a hands-off approach. Trying to fully wake the child, intervene, and even talking to the child can exacerbate the terror, making it intensify or last longer. Parents are encouraged to "run interference", keeping the child safe from any stairs, windows, or other physical dangers. This sounds all fine and dandy until it is your precious 3 year old screaming that bugs are crawling all over her.

Mary experienced her first night terror about six months ago. She has had them two times since, with the last one occurring on Wednesday. Mary awoke at 4am, screaming so loudly she woke all of her sisters, and thrashing around in her bed frantically crying for us to, "get the bugs off!" Between 4:00 and 6:30 that morning she alternately dozed, and desperately sought to find the source of bugs in the bed. We moved her into our room, where she snuggled between her Daddy and me while we quietly explained over and over that there were no bugs. We prayed, we tried to rest, we felt terribly that Mary was seeing bugs, and we waited...

Our sweet girl finally collapsed from exhaustion at 7:20 in the morning. Of course it would be the one morning I have a commitment, and at 8:30 when I tried to get her up and dressed she was like jell-o, complaining, "Mama, I so tired." Tell me about it!

So now what do we do? Well, we are working to ensure that our activities during the day are not causing these disturbances at night. But perhaps more importantly that that, we are praying every night that our Lord remembers his word:

Psalm 4:8

I will lie down and sleep in peace, 

for you alone, O LORD, 

make me dwell in safety.

Tuesday's Tip

I realize that some of the things I have learned from trial and error over six children might help someone else... before they deliver their sixth child! I am beginning "Tuesday's Tip" in an effort to share what may be helpful to you. The first one is certainly one of my favorites!

Layered bed sheets. I think I would take this into my own bed if I could find a way to do it! I don't know how many of you love to change your child's crib sheets - especially when you have the added bonus of tying and untying the bumper pad, in the middle of the night, with a fussy baby who just threw up everywhere. No fun! This simple recipe takes loads of hassle out of this frustrating situation!

-Remove the crib mattress entirely and place a crib sized waterproof pad followed by a white sheet onto the mattress. Follow with alternating waterproof pads and colored/patterned crib sheets. I usually layer about 6 sheets. Now, every time your sweet one pees, throws up, or just needs a new sheet all you have to do is whisk off the top layer with pad to reveal underneath a completely clean sheet! When you get to the white sheet you know you are at the bottom. I recommend Carter's Waterproof Mattress Crib Pads as the most thorough in keeping larger messes, like a diaper that leaked at the beginning of nap, from seeping all the way through to the layer beneath. However, be aware that only plastic (which does not breathe well) is truly "waterproof" - everything else will leak eventually.

Replace the mattress, attached your bumper and voila, you have just beat the system. Now when that accident occurs you can have a clean sheet in a jiffy, without all the fuss.

Bethany's Composition

Bethany has learned how to use the camera. She is practicing her skills with composition. I think she shows promise in the still-life pharmaceutical advertising campaigns known world-wide for their keen eye on asymmetry, and motionless expressionism.

 

Temperature

As we are experiencing record highs in January (80 degrees), while other parts of our great nation are experiencing record lows (-50 in Maine) it got me to thinking about a quirk of my eldest son, Caleb. The concept of regulated body temperature didn't seem to make it into Caleb's brain mass, and so he insists on wearing shorts year round, regardless of the climate. To top even this the shorts are all swim shorts. This basically means any blast of air finds its way home in a jiffy! We occasionally insist on him wearing long pants, but I don't think he has ever initiated changing into warmer clothes. Perhaps this would be no big deal if Caleb stayed inside, where I generally manage the overall temperature for a year round comfort. But he would rather be outside, all day, every day, any day than stuck inside.

The flip side of this is how he dresses for bed. Once again, regardless of whether it is warm, cold, or hot he generally prefers to wear sweats. On top of this, he pulls the covers over his head and completely buries himself. The hotter, the better. He sweats so much in his bed that there are times he almost wonders (as do his poor parents) if he had an accident. Nope, just all that hydration that froze in his blood during the previous day's winter expedition... in shorts.

Like I said before, I don't think that part of his brain is working yet. Apparently I didn't get the activation code in my user's manual.

Bananas

Josiah likes bananas.

Really, really, really likes them.

He had already eaten 2 large jars of baby food along with some bagel, but when Daddy pulled out the bananas he still ate the whole thing.

I bet you didn't know that bananas tout being the world's favorite fruit. I am not sure if that is derived by global sales, or the empirical evidence procured from interviewing every person on the planet. Either way my son agrees.

I don't have to feel guilty over his love of this food since it rates as one of the most nutritious fruits available. The combination of high potassium, low sodium, good fiber, and vitamins like crazy, including a full range of the Bs, all work together to keep Josiah free of scurvy.

In fact, if my son is suffering from any of the following then bananas have the cure!

-Anaemia: High in iron, bananas can stimulate the production of haemoglobin in the blood and so helps in cases of anaemia.

-Blood Pressure: This unique tropical fruit is extremely high in potassium yet low in salt, making it the perfect food for helping to beat blood pressure. So much so, the US Food and Drug Administration has just allowed the banana industry to make official claims for the fruit's ability to reduce the risk of blood pressure and stroke.

-Brain Power: 200 students at an English school were helped through their exams this year by eating bananas at breakfast, break and lunch in a bid to boost their brain power. Research has shown that the potassium-packed fruit can assist learning by making pupils more alert. (Those results are certainly conclusive with the staggering statistic based on 200 individual accounts!)

-Constipation: High in fiber, including bananas in the diet can help restore normal bowel action, helping to overcome the problem without resorting to laxatives.

-Depression: According to a recent survey undertaken by MIND amongst people suffering from depression, many felt much better after eating a banana. This is because bananas contain tryptophan, a type of protein that the body converts into serotonin - known to make you relax, improve your mood and generally make you feel happier.

-Hangovers: One of the quickest ways of curing a hangover is to make a banana milkshake, sweetened with honey. The banana calms the stomach and, with the help of the honey, builds up depleted blood sugar levels, while the milk soothes and re-hydrates your system.

-Heartburn: Bananas have a natural antacid effect in the body so if you suffer from heart-burn, try eating a banana for soothing relief.

-Morning Sickness: Snacking on bananas between meals helps to keep blood sugar levels up and avoid morning sickness. (Apparently no other food is capable of keeping your blood sugar levels up between meals.)

-Mosquito bites: Before reaching for the insect bite cream, try rubbing the affected area with the inside of a banana skin. Many people find it amazingly successful at reducing swelling and irritation.

-Nerves: Bananas are high in B vitamins that help calm the nervous system.

-PMS: Forget the pills - eat a banana. The vitamin B6 it contains regulates blood glucose levels, which can affect your mood.

-Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD): Bananas can help SAD sufferers because they contain the natural mood enhancer, trypotophan.

-Smoking: Bananas can also help people trying to give up smoking, as the high levels of Vitamin C, A1, B6, B12 they contain, as well as the potassium and magnesium found in them, help the body recover from the effects of nicotine withdrawal.

-Stress: Potassium is a vital mineral, which helps normalise the heartbeat, sends oxygen to the brain and regulates your body's water-balance. When we are stressed, our metabolic rate rises, thereby reducing our potassium levels. These can be re-balanced with the help of a high-potassium banana snack. (I prefer to simply remove the stress.)

-Strokes: According to research in "The New England Journal of Medicine"eating bananas as part of a regular diet can cut the risk of death by strokes by as much as 40%!

-Ulcers: The banana is used as the dietary food against intestinal disorders because of its soft texture and smoothness. It is the only raw fruit that can be eaten without distress in over-chronic ulcer cases. It also neutralises over-acidity and reduces irritation by coating the lining of the stomach.

-Warts: Those keen on natural alternatives swear that, if you want to kill off a wart, take a piece of banana skin and place it on the wart, with the yellow side out. Carefully hold the skin in place with a plaster or surgical tape!

Basically, I have accomplished my job as a mother by introducing him to bananas. Aren't I good?

The Plan

Children pick up on the little sayings you use. I have a tendency to say, "here is the plan..." and then proceed to lay out whatever I have in mind for the hour/day/week. My husband caught on to this idiosyncrasy of mine, and now asks me, "what's the plan?" Is it any wonder then that my children now have plans of their own? Leah began about four months ago, and has now transferred this routine to her sister, Mary, where each night after the girls have done their bedtime preparations, and are getting tucked into bed they must tell Daddy the plan. They can not tell him before they are in bed. In fact they can not tell him before he says the Lord's prayer with them. But heaven forbid if he forgets to hear the plan, and leaves the room uneducated. We have, on a number of occasions, heard Leah's whimpers turn into a full blown cry only to discover the cause is her aggrieved spirit at not sharing the plan with Daddy. Sometimes I count - but not usually.

So what is the plan? Tonight's plan looks almost identical to each night's predecessor, and should stand in good stead as an example of any night.

Daddy, I have to tell you the plan.

What is it, Leah?

After I wake up, and eat breakfast, and do Psalm, and watch a movie, and eat lunch, and Mary takes a nap, and I play with puzzles, and I play with Polly Pocket, and we go to the park, and I eat dinner, and I take a bath. That's the plan okay, Daddy?

Okay, Leah.

Mary's is a bit less robust, but nevertheless worth mentioning.

*whispering loud enough to wake the dead*

Daddy, I haffa tell you plan!

Okay, Mary. What is the plan?

Affer I wake up, an I eat bwekfest, an I do Psalm, an I eat bwekfest, an I watch movie, an I go outside, an I watch movie, an I eat bwekfest. OKAY, DADDY? *once again, making sure she is whispering for our neighbors to hear*

Okay, Mary. That's a good plan.

And so another night ends in our home. We prepare to follow the plan for the coming new day, including the retelling of the plan for the next, and the next, and the next day to come.

Poison Oak

I was informed somewhat on the sly that there was concern over my petering spirituality since I had missed church for the past few weeks. Thankfully the informer shared that they read the blog, and understood that I was sick - though the possibility of healing through a greater movement of faith on my part certainly could be entertained *wink*. I have felt like quite the heathen as my husband rushes out the door for another churchy event while I sit by and wave. Tonight, again, I was the waver.

I have poison oak. I grew up understanding all too clearly how the results of contact with the dreaded poison oak plant, bush, vine, sentient green villainous monster works. I have managed to steer clear of this dreaded rash for nearly 20 years. Obvioulsy I am doing something right! So here is the clincher: I reacted to firewood I was picking up which had no visible poison oak present, and had sat in someone's garage for two years. TWO YEARS. To say I am sensitive is a wee bit of an understatement. But I digress.

Monday morning I thought I would start honing my fire-making skills (insert link to the blog Christopher needs to write about how we are now heating our home with fire for most evenings, and his transformation into a frontier man - axe included) and so I grabbed a couple armfuls of firewood, and brought them inside. By Monday afternoon my arms were itchy, but I thought nothing of it. I was outside most of the day the previous Wednesday and Thursday, and thought perhaps I got a bit of a sunburn which was beginning to heal. However, by Monday night right before bed I suddenly caught myself itching elsewhere, and the dreaded idea sprang, completely unbiden and even with slight denial, that I had poison oak. I ran to the bathroom and had a good look at myself in the mirror. Sure enough, a rash had spread up my arms and across much of my trunk. By the time I went to bed I knew I had it on my arms, trunk, parts of my legs, one earlobe, and both sides of my hands. Yes, palms are a lovely place to get an irritatingly burning, itchy rash.

Today, after calling my dermatologist, getting on a topical corticosteroid, using Calahyst, and praying fervently for the second coming of Christ, I can report that I have the rash almost from head to foot. My face, neck, ears, back, arms, hands, trunk, legs, feet, between my toes, and even on my soles all bear the lovely markings of this post-Eden world. I was actually mentally prepared for this since it has never been my experience to contain the rash more than keeping it on me, and not transferring it to, say, the walls. I will say, with the caveat that I can deny this statement in another few days if it fails to hold true, that the quickness with which I started used my topical steroid (I snuck some of the kids' for their excema before my own came through) seems to be keeping the rash from blistering. I think this is good since one medical source said any effort to minimize the rash's symptoms once blisters formed was useless. Of course I also try to use this as a possible sign that I am not suffering from the dreaded reaction, but one scratch proves this dream wrong - with that oh-so-familiar relief/burn/itches worse that accompanies any such action. For now I am trying to gear myself up for the standard 3 week recovery cycle, and hoping that maybe I might be spared... even if only a few days.

Divine Comedy

I know that God has a certain sense of humor reserved most especially for weary, often overwhelmed mothers bearing a striking resemblance to myself. It shines in the absurd, ridiculous, and comedic events of my every day "normal" life. But sometimes it comes through someone else's voice. A little bit of God smiling down on me. I just experienced one such moment.

A couple of nights ago I had myself a good little yap at the children over their eating habits. Between allergies (this one can't have any dairy, that one is deathly allergic to oatmeal, don't forget the carrots, corn, potatoes, eggs, peanuts, lamb - well that's not hard - but spices like pepper and garlic salt can be insidious, and add to it peas, citrus, bananas, and tomatoes), and the almost constant childhood disease of discontentment you have a recipe for one exhausted Mama! Try as I might to fix wholesome, allergen free meals which appeal to everyone the outcome, more often than not, is at least one of my precious children complaining about what is before them. Now, this might not be a problem if I was of the school that allowed children to define for themselves what constituted breakfast, lunch and dinner. It might also be less of a hazard if I was independently wealthy, and able to afford all the specialty foods which my children adore (like beef bologna). But, as it were, I believe one of my principle jobs is training my children to work within the parameters of established boundaries, like sitting at the table and eating at meal times rather than roaming through the kitchen foraging like wild beasts. And I also believe that sacrifice is part of every person's inheritance on this earth, so opening my children's eyes to it at an early age by showing them that our budget can not afford wheat chex breakfast cereal every morning prepares them for a more seamless transition into productive adulthood. I value these concepts very much. They are the reason I make many of my decisions surrounding meal planning, preparation, and serving. Unfortunately, regardless of how altruistic, valuable, legitimate, or otherwise trusted these concepts are it does not change the fact that I am the one listening to my children, once again, complain about some (or every) aspect of their mealtime. And so I snapped night before last, when, after a grueling day of caulking and painting kitchen cabinet doors, I had made ham with homemade glaze, green beans, and pineapple chunks so my children could receive nutrition outside of intravenous infusion (which is sounding better every day) only to be met with lackluster appreciation, and waning appetites. I should note the irony that this dinner, under most other circumstances, is not only acceptable but preferred by my family. So the rejection stung all the worse that in my attempt to serve my loved ones by taking the time to think through and prepare a meal they enjoyed it was eaten thanklessly.

I had enough! Towards the very end of the meal I took a handful of sliced ham pieces, chewed to leave the outer edge (and consequently a large portion of meat deemed to close for consumption) and threw them back on the table. "I have had enough of this kind of pickiness from all of you! I make a dinner you all like only to have you whine about the glaze, the edge, the texture, the whatever. I make homemade bread so you can refuse to eat the crust. I make hot cereal each morning only to listen to you complain about how much more you prefer cold packaged cereal. You want McDonald's, pizza, bagels, anything other than the food I work to prepare for you at home. I am fed up with it!" Practically in tears I began clearing the table in such earnest that children scattered to guarantee their survival. Of course one particular child's voluntary conversation with me about their regret over my hurt feelings, and their corresponding responsibility along with a good night's sleep helped me feel much better in the morning. I was bolstered to look in the face of another day's meal planning, even though I was leery of the inevitable confrontation it would bring. That's when God decided it was time I saw him smiling - reminding me that while I may be exhausted, overwhelmed, and even taken for granted He sees me, sharing my joys and my sorrows, and gently giving me perspective for a soul that can laugh, rather than cry at life's little lessons.

I stayed home from church this morning due to a bad head-cold suffered by myself, and my two littlest ones. When my husband arrived home, toting the rest of our gang in his wake, he plopped a book on the table and absent-mindedly mentioned that it was a house warming gift from some friends of ours. It looked like a children's book. A house warming gift? I was baffled. I picked it up, and chuckled at the book's cover illustration showing seven children sitting around a table in varying states of eating. The name? The Seven Silly Eaters. Not chuckling quite so much as before I opened the book, and literally almost cried as I read the sweet verses of a family with seven children whose mother tried so hard to accommodate each little person's idiosyncrasies surrounding their food choices. For many other families it takes the familiar to the absurd through the unusual number of children, but for me, in my 5th month of pregnancy with  baby #7, it was almost perfectly applicable. Even with its fairy tale ending the hysterical anecdotes of a mother caring for her brood touched my heart with the humor of my own situation. I know that someday I will look back on these days of meal planning, staring at simply my husband across an empty table, and marvel with laughter at how we managed to feed all those children so many years ago. Divine comedy allows me to giggle now at what will surely make my sides ache in another decade... or two.

Home Sick

Mary, Josiah and I are home sick. The rest of the family went to church. It has been a fun morning, even with schmoutz, coughs, and sneezes. I don't often get the opportunity to spend this much quiet time with only one or two of my children. Josiah went down for an early nap, and it has been me and Mary for the rest of the morning. We watched Horton Hears a Who on dvd, read Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, and played puzzles. We sang the Mary Ellen song together, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and the alphabet song. We cuddled, giggled, and smiled at one another. Yep - it has been a sweet morning!