Fire Station Tour

We organized a fire station tour for our MOMS Club this past week.  It was a soaking good time for the kids!

This is our group that attended.

 Trying on a fire hat in the actual truck. 

 You wouldn't want to see this crew pull up to put out your fire!

 Adley getting "hands on" with the fireman.

 I love Elyse's face as she first starts spraying the hose.

 The open mouth expression from the power behind it.

 Then the calm confidence that she has it under control and it wasn't nearly as scary as she though.

It was neat.  Except she doesn't understand why the fire trucks weren't read when everywhere else you see them (books, movies, etc.) they are.  I wasn't quite sure what to tell her......yellow is brighter?

Poop

That just about sums up my day today.

I began the day with interesting thoughts, things on my heart, and my mind swiftly at work after some great conversations.  The day started out so, so well. 

I was met with an ever popular battle of the wills with Elyse at lunch.  She lost by the way.

After naps she used her little potty independently, as she does now, and I came to find later that she decided to wash it out in her bathroom sink and had clogged the drain with her poop.  Yes, the bathroom sink was clogged with poop.

Later she decided to try to change Adley's diaper on our couch and removed the old, soiled diaper, while I went to grab something and smeared Adley's business on the couch.

Another battle of the wills.  She lost.

Her behavior was the worst it's been in awhile.  I was truly dumbfounded.  I handled the intense moments with her and then realized maybe we just needed to get out to "clear the air" so to speak.

Went for a walk, ran the hill, threw pine cones, fed ducks, walked home.

Another battle of the wills.  I lost.  I was running out of steam and clinging to the promise of a better tomorrow but I still had to get through the busiest time of day, dinner, baths and bed.

Mandy, the cat who keeps on living, missed her cat box entirely tonight and her #1 mess went all over our laundry room tile and beneath our clothes dryer.

Another battle of the wills.  I don't know who won or lost.

I have met my limit for excretion accidents for the month. 

It's all cleaned up now.  I'm very thankful for couch covers that slip off and go in the washer and a husband who lifted the dryer for me to make sure I got the mess cleaned up.  I'm thankful the night ended well and we had fun playing as a family before she was snugly tucked in with hugs, kisses and prayers.  I'm thankful I'll read this blog post later and laugh.  I'm thankful I'm already chuckling a little right now.

Things I love.....

Florida

 a sleepy, snuggly baby

little shoes

 little shoes watching bigger shoes

 hubby thighs....just look at her left knee!  I just want to bite them!

 Elyse looking down on the "big hill", afraid to conquer it alone.  It doesn't look so big here......

 ....but, to her, it definitely was big.

 her face and giggles on the way down

 this expression when she said, "I did it ALL by myself!"

Memorials

My study last week was chapters 3 and 4 of Joshua.  I must admit, studying the Old Testament intimidates me.  I'm not eductated in the culture, versed in the timeline, or knowledgeable in the geography.  The stories are exciting yet have always been hard for me to follow or really get a feel for God's heart when they were taking place and how that applies to me today.  Thank God for bible studies. 

There is much to be said about the first 4 chapters of Joshua and so much I've learned.  I've fallen in love with the story of Rahab and applied first hand what crossing my Jordan has signified at different times.  In this chapter God commands them to carry 12 stones (representing the 12 tribes) over the Jordan with them.  When asked what these stones meant, they were told, "In the future when your desendants ask their fathers, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them, 'Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground. For the Lord your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over..'" (Joshua 4:21-23).

With such a huge event taking place after everything these people had been through, instead of rushing into the promised land, God has them stop and build this memorial reminding them of where they had come from, what they had been through, and who had led them there.  I imagine the Israelites were ecstatic crossing that miraculously dried up river!  40,000 people walking on dry ground!  Even with the Israelites God knew the people needed to shift their focus back on Him and take time to firmly remember these stories for generations to come. 

During different trials in my life I've often built memorials but they haven't always been in a good way.  Sometimes I memorialize the pain over the victory and the wilderness over the crossing.  Those memorials aren't the legacy I want to leave my children.  I want to boldly wear my battle scars and recount victories.  What I once was, I am not now.  I am a new person.  The one who died once for me has given me a new name......Daughter of the King.  That's the stone I want to carry and set on dry ground for my children and my children's children.

I want to remember my healed wounds as battle scars, not blemishes and I immediately thought of one of my tiniest NICU patients. 

I was working in a smaller NICU, we didn't routinely care for what are called "micro-preemies" which weigh less than 1,000 grams (about 2.2 pounds).  We didn't have the equipment or technology to sustain them at this hospital. 

It was about 4 in the afternoon on a Friday.  Management and the doctors had all gone home, antcipating a calm end to the 12 hour day shift.  A mother was rushed in, unexpectedly in preterm labor, just shy of 24 weeks gestation.  Phone calls were made to get the appropriate people in their places but in a matter of minutes a very, very premature, extrememly small baby was placed on the warmer in front of me.  There was no respiratory effort and only the faintest of hearbeats that lasted seconds between failing attempts to circulate his body.  His skin was transparent, his color blue.  Mentally at that moment I knew whether right now or a few days later, this baby was not going to make it.  The parents were screaming in the background.

The hope I lacked didn't matter, I had a job to do.  I began chest compressions over his tiny heart with two fingers as the respiratory therapist fought to oxygenate his undeveloped lungs.  Instances like that I hated my job.  What quality of life are we even fighting for?  Please, please don't let this baby die right here in front of me with these screams in the background.  I was almost mechanical in what I was doing but I couldn't supress my emotions with the intensity so high and I felt a lone tear roll down each cheek.  I knew what to do and I knew how to do it well.  The therapist and I worked together like a well oiled machine and somehow stabalized the baby enough to take him to the NICU.

It felt like forever but finally the doctor arrived.  The infant was stable on a respirator, his heart beating normally.  Upon examination of the baby the doctor jokingly said whoever did CPR on this baby needs to trim their nails.  I looked at his chest and there was a small indention on his now pink skin, perfectly shaped like a finger nail, directly over his heart.  I don't have long nails but it doesn't take much to tear skin so thin.  I felt guilty but then again, he was alive for today.  The baby was transferred that evening to a higher level NICU that could properly care for him.  I never saw that baby or his parents again.

One day, months later, they came to visit the NICU.  In their arms was a thriving, pudgy baby boy.  The parents were beaming.  No screams, all smiles.  They lifted his little shirt and showed me a tiny scar my fingernail left over his heart and said, "We will always remember how forunate we are to have him and can't wait to tell him the story of this scar when he's older."

I was stunned, frozen in amazement.  Here was this healthy baby I mentally dismissed several months prior.

Their road with him had been long and difficult.  Lots of treatments, on and off the ventilator many times, medications, therapists, infections and feeding issues.......all behind them.  They remembered the victory of his scar, not just the trial.  They looked at it with thanks and hope, not questions of "Why us?". 

I want to wear my scars like that.

Elyse's Valenine

I made these for Elyse to take to preschool tomorrow.  I got the idea from a friend and couldn't help myself.  They were cheap and easy to make but I love that it's something a little different.  Next year she will probably want some tacky cartoon cards so I figured I'd take advantage of it while I had a little control over :). 


The card:

 Finished product with Swedish fish attached.

 A just because I love my kids picture.  Elyse has on her bumble-bee Halloween costume, the outfit she chose for a "tea party" we were invited to. 

Cooking/Pictures of kiddos

If you know me, you know I've struggled with cooking.  I can do it, when I plan ahead and have every ingredient in a very specific, instructional recipe. 

Well, I've made a little progress.  I'm stepping out and making things out of what we happen to have on hand and *gasp* I even made a meal last night with no recipe to guide me at all.  I realize that isn't a big deal for most people, but for me it was close to a first.  The icing on the cake, it even tasted good!


Now this first recipe was different for me because I didn't have all of the ingredients listed, which normally would have stopped me then and there, but I made my own substitutions and this was probably the best pork chop I've ever had.  It was a Rachel Ray recipe, Balsamic Honey Glazed Pork Chops.

This meal I used what we had on hand.  Tomatoes, zucchini, chicken, etc.  Sauteed, layered and then baked......and what doesn't taste better with a bunch of cheese on top!

These chicken enchiladas were what I made with what we had available and no recipe at all.  Not complicated, nothing most people would be impressed with and definitely something most people could make very easily and not feel blog post-worthy.  I'm not most people.  It feels good to finally be doing this.

Something else I made, though not food, used old frames with glass and backs removed dressed in clothes.  One has buttons, one a zipper, another snaps so Elyse can practice those aspects of dressing an object in front of her instead of on her.

 She likes the zipper and the snaps the best but gets frustrated very easily with the buttons.  I don't blame her.

To add another photo, here we are for the Super Bowl.  My mom was here for the weekend (huge help and we enjoyed a date night as well) and our neighbors and their kids came over for the first bit of the game.  It was busy with 5 kids and 5 adults but we turned on the pool spa and the 3 older kids had a lot of fun playing with cups and tea sets in the water. 

 My mom and the girls.

 A twirling ballerina being watched by her daddy......

 Our girls......

That sums up the past week or so in this house.  Time to tackle another day!

Don't you wish

Tuesday night while I was sleeping, I woke up in the middle of the night and had that feeling.  That feeling where you know you are coming down with something.  For me it usually starts with a sore throat.  I felt worse as the day went on and by late Wednesday afternoon I was really struggling.  Everything ached.  A pounding, throbbing, feel it inside my bones ache.  My energy was drained and as my 2 small children looked up at me, wondering what was wrong, I called Matt at work.  I explained the situation and told him he didn't need to drop everything he was doing, but that if he could come home a little early it would be much appreciated.  I seldom do that.  I can't remember the last time I did, especially during the busiest time of year at his firm. 

He came home several hours early, ordered me to the couch and dove right in.  Adley was napping so he took Elyse outside to play.  I took a quick shower trying to wash away the ick, got in comfy clothes and plopped my sickly self on the sofa.  He truly is my second set of hands when he comes home, not just when I'm sick, and I'm so thankful for that.  By evening a fever had spiked and I was feeling worse by the hour.  The pain was intense and the fever gave me the chills, my skin was hot while I was chattering under a blanket.  I wanted to take Tylenol or Motrin, I knew it would help me feel a little better and perhaps rest a little more soundly.  I didn't.  Instead I prayed.  I told God I trusted His design of my body's response to this infection.  I told Him I knew this fever and it's pains had purpose and I would see it through.  I prayed I would be restored as fully as possible as quickly as possible because everyone knows how hard it is when a mom is out of commission.

It was a rough night.  I sweat so much while the fever broke that I washed the sheets the next day.  My head was pounding along with every joint in my body but I surrendered to rest.

The next morning Matt quietly got up with the girls while I slept.  He didn't say a word and just let me sleep, and sleep I did, until 11 a.m.  I awoke feeling quite a bit better and within an hour he was off to work.  I still wasn't 100%, but we managed and we managed well.

A friend later commented to me, "Don't you wish he could have come home sooner to have helped more?" and "Don't you wish he could have taken the whole day off while you got better?"

Really?  Was she really asking this?  No.  I don't wish that.  Sure it would have been nice now that you mention it but I'm just thankful.  I'm thankful he wasn't traveling for work.  I'm thankful he was in a position to take even just a few hours off to lighten my load.  I'm thankful we've been given bodies that restore themselves.  I wasn't just content about it, I was thankful and I made sure to let Matt and God know, oh, and my friend too. 

I guess it all goes back to the glass half empty/full of water analogy.  I try, though not always successfully, to embrace my portion of water and size of my glass I've been given.  This doesn't just pertain to good days or bad days, it has to pertain to all my days. 

"Lord you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure." (Psalm 16:5)

The humanness of Jesus, all that time ago, once again resounds with relevance today.  In the Garden of Gethsemane when He realized the suffering He was about to endure, He cried out, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done" (Luke 22:42).  It wasn't taken from Him.  He accepted it, drank it, and saved me.

In bible study last year they made this more concrete and hands on.  We had a  cup of water poured for us where we prayerfully accepted the portion we had been given.  A year later, this encounter with a friend, reminded me that those lessons stuck, though not perfectly, but that there has been ground gained in the battlefield of my mind. 

When I say "not perfectly", it's conversations like last night.  Matt and I have discussed on and off what our first big project on our house will be.  It's approaching it's twentieth birthday which is very evident in much of the house.  Our master bath?  New flooring?  Pavers for the patio?  Exterior paint (our house is pink!)? 

While we talked about it I began to think about how truly blessed we are.  We sit and pick our house apart and add items to lists that are wants more than needs.  Small patch work and replacing of seals versus gutting an entire bathroom, things like that.  Oh, and of course there are those with no homes at all or running water or safety or...or...or....

I'm spoiled.  I can be a brat when I don't ground myself. 

I told Matt we should pick something, our next big project, price it out and give the money away. 

That I do wish.  I wish I lived with such wreck-less abandon and whole-hearted, self-less love to follow through with thoughts like that.  I wish I could see what a world of people living like that looked like.  I wish.