Gracie

Last year around this time the boys and I were out playing in the yard when I heard a terrible mewing. Each time I got close to where the sound was coming from it stopped, and each time I walked away it started up again. Finally I was able to locate the source to a soft gray paw stuck through two broken boards in our fence.

When my neighbor and I finally freed the fluffy feline from the fence we discovered that she was just a wee lass. Her swollen paw had made her look bigger than she really was. I nursed her back to health with some help from the San Antonio Feral Cat Society and two neighbors. We had originally planned to find another family for her but after all we went through (I guess I forgot to mention that she had to have her left front leg amputated) we decided to keep her.

Gracie is now a member of the family but there is a problem. Our other female cat Chez hates her. Shall we also say they hate each other? I think that's a fair assessment. Because of this we have at least one cat fight a day in our bedroom and more than a handful of times this comes with little brown accidents under the bed. Oh the joys of pet ownership!

How's this for a profound blog post? I'm racing to get back downstairs to spend some time with my husband. I've been out this afternoon galavanting around the Hill Country with my good friend Jennifer. Hasta.

Lost at the Museum

We went to the Children's Museum today and that place is a lot of fun! But about 5 minutes after we went in we could not find the littlest one. I wasn't too worried as he is not our flight risk and I had seen him walk through the gift shop toward the exhibits. But still, what better place to steal a kiddo than from a crazy childrens museum (hopefully I don't have any kidnappers reading my blog)!

The calm girl at the front desk had obviously searched for children there before, because she asked me some good questions. What is he wearing? How old is he? What is his name? Some days a mother might not remember what her child was wearing. However, LB will only wear pajamas so it's easy to remember. What was he wearing? Orange pajamas with robots on them. A very easy description. He was found within 2 minutes, sitting in an airplane upstairs.

Perhaps this should have been a scary experience that I shudder to think about. But because of the jammies and the happy ending it was a funny experience that still has me laughing. What mom lets her child wear nothing but PJs? Me! I'm just barely going to mention that BB was dressed with his pants on backwards.

Sitting on my fricker-fracker

Why am I sitting at the kitchen table with Team Umizoomi in the background and Facebook active rather than reading like I'm supposed to be doing? Because my books are upstairs and I am not.

I wasn't feeling well earlier so I canceled my plans for a haircut and market research at a local movie theater. Instead I decided to come home and lie in bed all day and that is just what I did. I watched Grease, took a nap, and spent time in online pursuits. I had thought I might read in preparation for my infertility support group starting again next week, but instead I slept. I guess I needed the rest.

I'm feeling better now, and I am perfectly capable of dragging my butt (don't say butt) upstairs and getting some reading material. Then I think, by the time I get it the boys won't be occupied with TV anymore and I won't get to read anyway. So I've been sitting here for almost an hour. Ugh.

I think I'm ready to work on our book, Mom, because with the advent of social media I spend even more time in front of the computer spending time on unimportant, non-urgent items like checking my email every 5 minutes and cycling between Facebook, People.com, and my online ministries (that actually are worth spending time doing, don't get me wrong).

Is there something in my personality that gets me stuck like this? I know what I want to do - read. But what I'm doing is not reading. I haven't opened a book all day. I just had a scripture pop into my head from Romans. Romans 7:15 (NIV) says, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."

Hate is a strong word, I don't hate Facebook. But I think I'd feel more fulfilled and even energetic at the end of the day if I did more life-affirming things like reading, writing, scrapbooking, playing the piano, etc. Those are the things that I think about doing when I'm out and about, but when I get home, eh - not so much do. (There is no try, only do.)

Sounds like Umizoomi is about over, so I think my time here is through. I've done a good job at sticking with blogging, however many days now I've blogged in a row, so how can I make myself stick to doing other things too. A sticker chart? That's thinking like a mama. ;o)

Ugly cry.

Yesterday I went to my Bible study (Bible Study Fellowship), sat down, and was asked a very profound question: "How are you?" I promptly and without warning dropped my head in my hands and burst into tears. Then I realized that everyone was staring at me (I mean, duh!) so I had to say something funny. I don't remember what I said, and it probably wasn't that funny, but that's my natural reaction to tears - make a joke, get 'em laughing, and move on.

Later in the discussion something really funny did happen though, and I'm still laughing about it. The question had to do with Jesus as Redeemer. What does that mean? Nancy answered that Jesus redeems us through his sacrifice of death on the cross for our sins. Redeemed. Easy. Remembering some Old Testament stories from well, the Old Testament, I mentioned also that Jesus was the final sacrifice, whereas in Old Testament times people made regular animal sacrifices instead. Imagine our lives today if we had to make an animal sacrifice every time we sinned.

I shouldn't have done that. "Anyone got a lamb handy? A pigeon? Anything?" Can you imagine? Well we had a good laugh about that, one of those laughs that makes the other groups in the hall say, "What on earth is so funny in there?" I think I laughed the hardest. I love making people laugh. It was one of those laughs that if not kept in check would have turned into a big ol' cry ten seconds later. I didn't let it go. Maybe I should have.

What's the problem with showing emotion in front of others? These women aren't strangers, we've been having deep spiritual discussions for months. Are they going to think I'm a weirdo for having a little cry because my dad is sick and I still have to deal with the small stuff like how my 3-year-old won't wear shoes and the heater is out? Am I ashamed that I have moments when I can't hold it all together like I'm supposed to be superhuman? Are you superhuman? A 'V'?

I think of myself as a pretty transparent person. I'll tell embarrassing stories about myself, point out my own flaws, and answer pretty much anything you want to know if you ask. But what is it about crying that is so embarrassing? Everyone does it, right? Do I view it as a sign of weakness? Maybe, but being weak is OK.

A conclusion would be good here. But I'm too tired today. Anyone want to conclude this for me?

I love my boys differently.

Silly, I didn't say less or more. Is it because one is adopted and one is from my womb? No way, Jose. It's because they are two different kiddos with two completely different personalities.

BB is a quality-time kind of dude. He doesn't care about snuggling or lots of affirming words. He loves to share experiences. When he tells me he loves me it sounds like this, "Mommy, will you play with me?" He does tell me "I love you, Mommy," but not as often as another little boy who lives here. I would love to snuggle in with BB more, but he's just not into that. That's OK. I tell you when he does let me cuddle with him and hold him it's like nothing else. It warms my mommy heart.



LB is a snuggler. He would like nothing more, most of the time, than to be snuggling and cuddling with Mommy. He repeatedly tells me he loves me, especially in the morning when he also says daily, "Mommy, you're so pretty." For a while he would say, "You're my precious Mommy." No, you're precious! LB is a lot like me in personality and appearance. It can be freaky even.


In terms of discipline, their needs are also very different. A time-out means nothing to BB! He won't do it or he won't have a problem with it. He gets a time-in. He needs to sit in my lap and we have a little talk. I don't let him go until I can tell that he is remorseful and understands why he is in time-in. For LB there is not much worse than a time-out. Just the threat of a time-out will put him practically in hysterics and he'll convincingly apologize right away. When he does get a time-out it is misery. He is a model time-out child.

I know people wonder if they will love their child by adoption as much as their child by birth. The answer is, "YES!" But don't be ashamed to treat them differently. They're different just like two children from the same DNA or even twins will be. Parenting is about being creative with the child God gave you whether you were physically pregnant or paper pregnant with him.

Different - not identical or the same.
Less - to a smaller extent, amount or degree.

(Photos by Laura Pearson. For my IF readers, this website is baby and belly heavy.)

I don't wanna.

It's so easy to get out of the habit of blogging. Yesterday I posted a recipe and counted it as blogging, and that one day off seemed to have erased my brain of interesting blogging ideas.

Sooooo, I think I'll review some more blogs!

One of my verrrrry favorite blogs is written by Wee Thelma. First off, although not the most important thing, this blog is gorgois! I just want to go all of the places and eat and drink all of the things pictured. I want to pet the kitties and look out the windows. It's my fantasy blog! Also, My Thelma is so clever and a really beautiful writer (inside and out). She loves me even though I drool in my sleep, and she is one of my favorite people in the whole world that I've only met IRL once. Please read.

You know, I'm going to stop there. Just go read Thelma - you'll be happy you did.

T, YOU ROCK!

Apple cinnamon oatmeal

I made a recipe! Here's what I did.

1 small apple
1/2 T. butter
1/4 t. ground cinnamon
1/4 t. Stevia
1/2 c. 5-minute oats
1 c. water

(individual serving)


Chop a small apple (I used a small Kitchenaid food processor), saute in 1/2 T. melted butter and add cinnamon and stevia, cook until desired tenderness (about 3 minutes). Prepare oatmeal as per package directions. Add apples and cinnamon and stir. Add more cinnamon and stevia to taste. I thought the .25/.25 cinnamon and stevia were lovely.

Enjoy!

From the kitchen.

I have spent a whole lotta time in the kitchen today! I made chocolate-chip pancakes, bacon, and eggs for breakfast. After church I made grilled cheese sandwiches with fruit and a green salad for me. Now I'm making turkey meatloaf and mashed potatoflowers and and undetermined green vegetable.

Potatoflowers? A few weeks ago on the Dr. Oz show he shared a few ways to save on calories. One way he mentioned was to cut down on your white potatoes in mashed taters by substituting in some cauliflower. So I'm going for it. We'll see. I'm a scratch-cooker. I never really know what I did the time before. I used two potatoes and about 3/4 head of cauliflower. I'll blend in some butter and milk to taste. I guess that's how you make mashed potatoes!

I've got a 4-year-old saying, "Mom, I'm hungry" every few minutes. The kicker is he won't eat meatloaf or mashed potatoes. I'll have to fix him a gourmet hot dog. I enjoy cooking for my family! It means I have a) food to prepare, and b) a family! But I will admit I was a lot fresher at breakfast than I am cooking dinner. Maybe since there's cauliflower in the mashed potatoes I don't need to prepare a veggie. Can I get an amen?

Skinny jeans.

Tonight I wore skinny jeans and boots to dinner. My first outing. At first I thought I looked like a biker chick, not there's anything wrong with that, and I thought I might change. "Oh, who cares," I thought, maybe I am a biker chick. So I went for it.

I felt pretty stylish but man those things had to be hiked up every time I sat down or stood up. You know, a grab your pants on either side, yank them up forcefully while wriggling your boo-tay from side to side kind of hike-up. I felt like a doofus. But I still thought I looked pretty cute.

We ended up running by the mall after dinner and I would say that about 50% of the women I noticed had on skinny jeans and boots. I guess I didn't look so hard-core after all.

I'd post a picture but I'm pretty sure those suckers got up and walked away on their own when I changed into my comfy pants. I'm not really sure what that implies but I'm tired so I'm going with it.

Night-night.

Mental health day.

No kids, no plans, no guilt.

It's been a big week. A big few weeks, actually. With all the traveling we did for Christmas, the great news we received about my dad last week, the terrible news we received about my dad this week, getting the kids settled back into a routine, and getting through my dad's brain surgery yesterday, (he did well, btw, and starts a new chemo today), I could use a little sensory day.

First off, until now all I've had to eat today is bacon. That makes for a good day - lots and lots of bacon. I've been to the gym every day this week so I came right home from dropping the boys at their preschool program rather than going to work out like I usually do on Fridays. I brewed a fresh pot of decaf coffee so I can drink it all day long, and wrestled up some apples an cinnamon oatmeal, not even from a packet. I actually sauteed up some chopped apples in butter, cinnamon, and stevia and made something very aromatic and yummy. When I came downstairs from grabbing my computer I could smell it all - very comforting.

I was going to try to catch a movie today, but now that I'm home I feel so peaceful and happy that I'm not going anywhere until picking up the boys from school. I can't remember the last time I spent the whole day at home like this. I love home. This is awesome. As you can see from my picture I have Punky cat here with me. The mug I'm drinking from might look familar to Elizabeth T if she happens across my blog today. I hope she does. Maybe I'll suggest her tuning in today. Hi, Elizabeth!

Today I am going to do all of the things I listed the other day that I wanted to do during nap time. Now I can actually get all of those things in. I also have a Netflix I may watch in bed. If I fall asleep, sleep I will.

Someone is praying for me to have peace and comfort today, I just know it. My special day is off to a great start. Next step my BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) lesson, then off to bed I go to read or start that movie. I can't even remember what movie it is. Jane Austen Book Club, I think. Then later I'll knit my shawl with the merino/silk blend and I may just eat something green with my pepperoni pizza.

This is what I'm doing today. Don't try to stop me.

Love,
Punky's momma

I like to knit it knit it.

Isn't that just so P-31 of me? "She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands" (Proverbs 31:13).

"Knit one, purl two...knit one, purl twooooo..."

Does knitting seem like an old lady thing to do? Hey, if the shoe fits, right? But I really enjoy so many things about it. There is a whole knit culture out there that I never knew existed. There are "process knitters" and "product knitters" (I'm a process knitter), yarn snobs and general users (I'm more of a yarn snob), and because I can't think of a third distinction, female knitters and male knitters. There are both, I promise.

When I go to the local yarn store (LYS) I feel peaceful. It's comforting, like a big wool sweater. I could stand there for an hour with a cup of coffee and just take it all in. That is, if I had an unrushed hour to spend there. The local yarn store is a place with just yarn and related items so I don't get overwhelmed with all of the other ideas that pop into my head and never come out, like how I could decorate for every season and buy craft kits that the kids will never be into. I could just go there and dream, touch and smell the yarns, and then go home. Of course sometimes I buy some luxurious yarns like alpaca, silk or bamboo fibers. I've even knit a scarf and bag with banana yarn, spun from the banana leaf as far as I can tell.

I will shop for yarn at Michael's or Hobby Lobby when I have some mass production to go out, like the ribbed hats for members of my family (they were a big hit for Iowa Christmas), but for a special project I head to my LYS Yarnivore for some specialty yarn. Currently I have a wool/silk yarn from Manos del Uruguay in Olivewood. I actually picked out this yarn as an "inspiration piece" to help choose paint colors for our bedroom when we moved. I knew I could find color inspiration at my LYS. I started knitting a shawn just the other night and I love the way this soft yarn feels in my hands. Yummy.

A little over a year ago when we moved I had just started knitting and I knit up a storm in anticipation of our life change. One of the first things I did in our new town was to find the LYS and I couldn't wait to check it out. It was so comforting to me, and something I could do in our old home and our new. Then over the summer I lost some interest, because lets face it, summer in Texas is hardly the time you are motivated to imagine soft, warm knits. But recently, and especially with my new passion for knitting chemo hats, I've started going again.

I started with little projects like soft drink cozies and coasters, then progressed to scarves. Then I went to circular knitting hats and have made quite a few. (I am just now learning how to get the size right. Some of my original creations for adults were big enough for a human to wear over a helmet.) I also enjoy knitting handbags and recently sold one at a silent auction benefitting Hannah's Prayer Ministries. I have two currently unfinished handbags waiting for handles. I have also made mittens, a shrug, ornaments (OK, I crocheted those), and one half of a sock.

When do I have time to knit? That is an excellent question. The answer is "not often enough." That's why I am a process knitter and not a product knitter! I finish about 60% of the projects I start, although recently with the 5 hats I knit during the last two weeks of December my stats are up. I have some fun neighbor friends who I knit with sometimes, and we had a knitting club meeting in November which was nice. Now that the holidays are over we'll try to get a new one going. See you there?

Blog it, baby!

We've been running errands today and I'm plum tuckered out. I can hear the boys downstairs relatively calm and I just know in my gut that orange juice is being drunk out of the container and there is a pile of dried cranberries on the counter. Plus I just heard a door slam, and just a minute ago BB was asking for a rake. Why am I still upstairs pretending everything is fine? Because I love the water and I've found me a flowing river - DENILE.

Bad joke. OK, neither of those things actually happened, but they have before. My favorite are Ovaltine mountains on the couch. That's always a treat. The boys are at an age now where they will still take a nap but then bedtime is harder. Today I figured we'd run around and it would wear the boys out for bedtime. But now I wish it were my bedtime!

So this is day 4 of my attempt at a 21-day blog habit formation. I've talked some of my friends in to coming along! So in order of their agreement, here are some of my friends blogs.

Hope's family blog. Hope moved to my former hometown right after we moved away, but we've enjoyed some Sea World together in the past year. Hope is blazing the path for others of us whose homes are All Boy All the Time! Hope's recent post about gratitude ought to get us on the right start in the new year.

Next we have C, a very responsible blogger! She is also a real hoot and one of the most loyal and true friends and moms I know. She too is in the MOB (Moms of Boys) and is in the process of adopting another. Did I mention she was such a fun gal? She is!

Stay tuned for more new blog promos tomorrow. Right now I have to go see why it is now so quiet in my bedroom.

This time is different.

My dad is fighting cancer. And it is fighting back. Hard. Cancer is a vicious foe - everybody knows that. It strikes fast but can sometimes be held at bay. Then when you've let your guard down just a little bit, it can come back at you harder than ever.

Last week we received some good news - that the leukemia was retreating from the blood and my dad was a candidate for a bone marrow transplant and given pretty good odds. He was tired and wearing out from the fight, but we saw a light at the end of the tunnel. When I had the chance I was praising God from my Facebook account for the miracle we had received.

Then yesterday came the new data. The cancer has spread to the brain. It may be treatable, we have great hope for that to happen, but it may not be. This is life with cancer. You can only take it one day or minute at a time.

I wonder if when I posted that praise last week some might have thought, "Sure you praise God now, but what about those of us who haven't had such great news?" Well I'm one of you now. I don't have such great news. But I have a great hope and I still have faith.

I am still praising my God even in this news. I praise Him because He will carry us through. I praise Him because someday my dad and I will both be in heaven together and we will be the healthiest cats ever. I praise Him because even though it makes no sense to me right now why such pain exists, I know that God has a sovereign plan and none of this is a surprise to Him. I don't believe that God gives us cancer, he's not a puppet master, but I do believe that evil exists in a fallen world and somehow, God has a plan for that, too. I know that he surrounds us with love during this time, in the form of family and friends and a peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7).

Back in October when we first got the diagnosis I was miserable. I felt like the world would never play in color again. I looked way ahead into the future and worried about all of our plans that might never be. Every precious thing that happened in that week when we were waiting like we are now again was sad for me. I didn't find joy in those things, only sadness that my dad might never experience those things with us again.

This time is different. Not easy, but different. We are armed and stronger from the last battle. I am assured that all I know right now is that my dad is being taken care of as best as his family and doctors can. I know now that things are going to get worse over the next 48 hours before they have a chance to get better. That stinks. (Unless God does a healing miracle which I believe He can.) What I don't know is the number of tomorrows, there might be hundreds! We might kick this brain cancer and go back to the treatment plan that brought us such good news last week. We might! None of us know how many tomorrows we have.

God says in Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future." That's a promise. Psalm 34:4 says, "I sought the Lord, and he answered me; He delivered me from all my fears." Notice it doesn't say He will take away our troubles. It says He will deliver us from them.

Don't get me wrong, I've said it before - this stinks! But all we can do is hold tight and wait. The next thing that happens is the next thing. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things; Philippians 4:8.

And pray.

Well, would you look at me!

What do you know - two days in a row. I am coming to you "live" from the playroom on January 3rd 2011. As you can see my Stupid Human Trick still looks tricky! This is a face I usually only pull out at parties, but any time I get two small boys to nap at the same time does feel like a party.

This morning I woke up thinking about what I would try to write about today. I decided to outline my perfect day. It starts with me getting up at 6:30 and reading my Bible for 30 minutes, spending deep, meaningful time with the God who made me. Then the boys wake up at 7:30 and stay in their room until I come for them, as soon as I finish my morning coffee and unload the dishwasher for the day.

Next, the boys quietly color at the table (you know, on actual paper and without ingesting any crayon) while I cook a great breakfast. Then we all sit down to eat at the same time. We watch a quick show while I clean up and then go play educational games in the playroom and immediately clean it up to its original immaculate state. After playing for 30 minutes we read books and the boys quietly play together while I do the laundry and have a snack.

After a nutritious lunch the boys would go down for their nap without even a threat of spanking or closing the blinds. The would sleep for 2 hours while I do the following:

My quiet time with God would come first, then
Blog, of course
Knit
Read non-fiction
Read fiction
Have a cup of coffee
Check my email and Facebook
Organize something
Take a power nap.

All of those things.

Then the boys wake up, we play outside with neighbors and nobody gets scolded or cries, and we would then go inside for a dinner I would have made a month ago and placed lovingly and healthfully in the freezer for such a time as this.

But the reality is, I stayed in bed until LB got me, BB woke up and we all played, and then I cleaned the playroom to some extent. I fixed the boys breakfast and managed to eat something myself, they argued and pushed each other around, we watched TV for 30 minutes and then I scrambled to get them dressed for the gym. LB will only wear jammies these days and hates all of his shoes, so he whimpered all the way to the car about his brand new shoes being wrong. The same shoes he's been wearing since September only in a bigger size.

We came home, BB whined and stole food, I fed them lunch and then managed to eat something myself (notice a theme), I tried to read books but they wouldn't listen, they got in beds for naps and BB got in trouble for disobeying, I had to close the blinds, they complained, then fell asleep. I don't know what the rest of the day holds, but I do know there's no way I could ever do those things that are on my above list!

If my day had actually gone according to my perfect plan, I'm not sure whose children I would be raising! My boys just don't sit and the table and color quietly - they're boys. They aren't gentle all the time and they do practice boundary-pushing on a daily basis. I'm not the mom who has the whole day planned, and if I did I'd have to change the plan anyway. That I can do. I'm a pretty good plan changer.

As for all of the things I would love to be able to do, maybe I ought to adjust my expectations just a tad? No way am I going to get to all of those things every afternoon. But what I can do is spend less time on Facebook and more time in other pursuits. I'm doing pretty well with less TV watching but not so great with limiting my incessant internet usage.

This is a good day. I got hugs from each of my boys, I have some free time, I can still make that silly crooked fish face, and I have so many blessings I don't deserve! I can see the carpet in the playroom, I washed my hair and brushed my teeth, and I have food in the fridge. I only have to put my coffee cup into the microwave and press go (again) for a little caffeine boost. Life is good. I'll take what I have - there is another chance at the perfect day tomorrow.

Or not. And that's perfectly good.

HNY!

Did you notice that yesterday was 1/1/11? It would have been more interesting for me to have pointed that out yesterday, but alas I did not. Today is 1/2/11, but that is not interesting at all. When it is 1/2/21 that will be nifty. I'll be 50 years old. What? In October it will be 11/11/11. Now that's cool.

I don't believe in New Years resolutions, do you? Eat better, exercise regularly, get organized, read more books and spend less time online, blog more. Did I hear blog more? Can I get a what, what??

It used be I found myself pretty interesting. Going through infertility and experiencing the adoption process was pretty exciting stuff, and I found that writing about it and using my self-professed sense of humor to get through were helpful.

So are trial and struggle the only interesting things to blog about? It's not that I don't have either in my life right now, but most pressing is how do I raise my little men. This is my most important mission now. As a formerly infertile woman, who still identifies greatly with that plight, I've had a hard time blogging about parenting. There are tons of blogs about parenting. I'm also not that great a parent! I have some cute stories, though.

My Wendi has managed to continue blogging and being a mom sensitive to her readers who are experiencing infertility. (Did I just insert a link all by myself?) She is a blogging inspiration! (Did I really just insert a link?) Others have done it too, right?

I shouldn't feel like I have to apologize for being a mom. No one tells me I should, but I feel a self-imposed need to shelter my IF friends from All Mom All The Time. I think this is why I stopped blogging. That and I really don't have a lot of uninterrupted time to get my thoughts down. (Enough time to play a lot of Facebook Scrabble though!)

So anyway, I want to try to blog more. I did used to really enjoy it. I should stop apologizing to myself about being too momish. I am a lot of other things too, but I am a mom with mom issues and parenting struggles.

So I'm going to go for it. I'm not making a NYR, but I do commit to blogging something every day for 21 days and try to make a habit. I give myself permission to talk about parenting and I promise not to only talk about parenting. If I can get back into the gym, I can do this!

Any other part-time bloggers care to join me for a 21 day attempt at daily blogging?

Tips from a Not-So-Supermom.

Today's tips - stay tuned for new tips every 3 months - haha.

Tips for Making Christmas Cookies with Preschoolers!

1. Lower your expectations.
2. Buy pre-made dough.
3. Lower your expectations.
4. Bake at breakfast time. You'll be more fresh and won't have to cook breakfast!
5. Lower your expectations again.
6. Embrace the mess as part of the process.
7. Plan to offer actual nutrition the rest of the day.
8. Plan on only you and your children eating or seeing the cookies. This way when they put the icing tube in their mouth you won't have to worry about your neighbor or their teacher getting their germs.
9. Make each child a cookie with the first letter of their name that they can decorate any way they want and then eat.
10. Take lots of pictures!

Blessings

I'm sitting in my new kitchen. It's ginormous. (How did "ginormous" pass the spell check?) It's embarrassing, really, how big it is. The other day we delivered a loved crib to a single mama from our church. She has an absolutely gorgeous 6-month-old son with the hugest brown eyes you've ever seen. She lives in a small old house with a rotting porch with her mom, her older son, her little baby, and perhaps someone else - we couldn't tell. She and her mom were lovely and very grateful for a crib for their little sweetheart.

We dropped off the crib at the non air conditioned house and hopped back into our comfy, cool minivan to return to our new home where Granny was caring for our boys, much as that little baby's grandmother likely takes care of him sometimes, too. As we drove off I realized how embarrassingly comfortable we expect to be as a family.

In Austin we lived in a 1400 square foot house with two little boys. It was tight but we were determined to make it work until we could pay it off. People live with much much less space, obviously, and although we occasionally longed for a bigger place to spread out (mostly for a bigger kitchen), we were all happy there.

Enter a new city with a much lower average housing cost. We rented a big ol' house (to us) for a year, put an offer on this place in April, closed in June, and leased back to the original owners for two months. Now we're in our new home and are really happy to have more space. But we really aren't any happier than when we had less space.

I know as middle-class Americans we have much more than we need and are terribly spoiled. I know that "on paper," but dropping off the crib at this mom's house was a tangible reminder of how blessed we are. We could be wealthier, but we couldn't be richer, and we wouldn't be happier.

I would be happier if it weren't football season. (Just kidding, darling.)

Hindsight

Some of my most beautiful memories come from when we were struggling daily, monthly, and annually with infertility. How is that possible? At the time it was the most devastating experience of my life.

I look back at joining Hannah's Prayer after 9 months of infertility. What an amazingly incredible blessing HP has been for me over the years. I have been a member now for over 6 years and now moderate two forums. I have met endless beautiful ladies, some whose arms have been filled with children and some whose hearts have been filled with peace and joy as families of two!

Reading some of my old posts in preparation for my support group tomorrow simply warm my heart. Helpful comments from friends like Crunchy Christine who has now advised me every which way on topics like infertility, open adoption, breast feeding, and anger management. I get to see how God gave me peace and contentment in my life even before my arms were filled with my two precious blessings, and how He has grown me in the past 7 years.

Tomorrow I go sit with a group of ladies (no idea how many folks will turn up) who are currently struggling with infertility and my purpose is to point them to the God of healing and love. He loves us whether we feel it's true or not - it's just a fact. Whether I have faith or I don't, God is sovereign and holy and loves me. When I am angry with Him He still loves me. When I feel like I am not getting the good that I deserve, the truth is that I'm getting much more than what I deserve to be called His child.

Easy for me to point to God now that my arms are filled, right? Well that might be a valid point, but it doesn't make His promises and his word any less true. It's just hard to see clearly in times of personal crisis. It was for me, it is now in different situations, and it will likely be hard to see clearly for these ladies. I just need to continually remind myself that I cannot heal their hurts, but God can.

Support

My support group starts tomorrow. I was going to write about it when I heard on the TV about how lack of sleep can affect preschoolers FOREVER! So what am I supposed to do about that? Start bedtime at 6pm the minute my husband walks through the door so those kids can be asleep by 7:30? Drive myself absolutely INSANE taking it all upon myself to force those boys to go to sleep how, by holding them down in their beds and taping their eyes and mouths shut? I don't think so. I want those researchers to come to my home and get my kids to sleep by 7:30. Wouldn't that just look like an episode of Leave it to Beaver?

I have to make lunches for tomorrow. No time to prepare for my support group. Can I have a snack now? It's only 9:35 p.m. The kids have been asleep for less than an hour and I got an, "I hate you, Mommy" from my little angel. Perhaps all this nonsense is meant to be a distraction for me and I shouldn't let it.

Prepare...

This is gross. You may want to stop reading.

Not for the coprophobic.

This morning I decided to make a healthy green smoothie for part of my balanced breakfast (1 cup water, kale, 1 banana, 1 c. of frozen berries). I had my first 3 ingredients in the carafe and two boys sitting on the kitchen counter. They were, well, let's call it "helping."

I turned my back to rinse out the lid when the blender turns on and banana-kale-water flies into the air with the greatest of ease. "NO!" I scream, and walk speedily out of the room to get my bearings. As I went back to check the damage it wasn't that bad and so I counted my blessings.

Ah, here comes my delicious smoothie. By this time LB resigned to the Mickey Mouse Club on TV while BB was still helping me. Thank God I was standing there because BB picked up what looked like a flattened felt pad from the bottom of our kitchen chairs and went to put it in the blender. "Stop, BB," I said, and took the object from him. "What is that?" I thought aloud as I held it up to my face to inspect it.

It was then I realized that it was poo. It had fallen out of BB's pull-up and he'd flattened it with his foot. I squealed, threw it away, and vigorously washed my hands. I turned to BB who was looking bewildered from the kitchen chair next to the counter. I asked him, "Were you trying to make a poo smoothie?" He smiled sheepishly and we went on with our smoothie-making. One might think we would not want to drink the smoothie that almost went fecal on us, but we only had one banana left so we had to.

It was good.

You might be a mom of boys if...

Mom

That makes me:

Referee
Coach
Personal Trainer
Teacher
Pastor
Chef
Maid
Nurse
Mediator
Counselor
Friend
Mrs. Nice guy
Mean lady :o)

Quiet.

It's quiet. What? I'm just soaking it in.

LB broke the blender earlier. That was loud. The boys are tired today. They're loud. I have a lot on my mind today. My thoughts are also loud. I'm paralyzed by quiet. What do I do now? As soon as I start something I'm certain to be disturbed. It's hard to get started on something cool when I'm always wondering when someone will wake up and need me.

I'm not complaining. Parenting is a gift. But it's a loud job.

What should I do?

Humbled

A little under a year ago we moved to a new city and found a new church. It's very different from the church we attended last, a big Baptist church. Our current church is one of the world's largest (like #20 or so) and is filled to the brim with outreach ministries, both within the church and community. It has been wonderfully interesting lately finding out about all of the ministries, especially the Pastoral Care department. There are 20 or so support groups at our church helping people going through trials like alcoholism, marriage issues, and abortion recovery. It's amazing. But there has been a group close to my heart that has not yet been served - couples going through the monthly heartbreak of infertility.

Every service the pastor calls people to the alter who would like to receive prayer. I am usually in the choir loft during one of those services, so I often see the faces and tears of our dear brothers and sisters coming for intercessory prayer. I often wonder if some of those tears are for the monthly losses associated with being unable to conceive or to carry a baby to term. Every time I watch this type of alter call I pray fervently for those women and men. I began to feel led every Sunday to talk to someone about starting an infertility life group at the church.

After an obviously God-ordained series of events, I was put in touch with the director of support services in the Pastoral Care department and, long-story short, we met and proposed a plan to the Pastoral Care department to start an infertility support group in the fall. Last week I received word that our Community Bible Church has approved the group. We will start in September.

"Now what?!?!?" I ask. I am not a professional counselor, I am just a busy mom who has not forgotten where we've come from to get there. I don't look like a professional - right now I'm sitting in my PJs gazing over an extremely toy-strewn playroom and periodically making sure my boys are not eating from the sugar bowl like they enjoy doing. I don't dress to shoes every day and I've barely done any professional work for almost 4 years. I'm not a trained speaker, I ramble on and on sometimes, and I am certainly not "good enough" to be in a position to minister to how ever many women come to our fledgling group. But you know Who Is?

So I'm humbled that God has chosen to form this group and I am praying for a co-leader. I can't wait to see who God turns up! I know He has chosen her already and she just has yet to be revealed. How exciting!! We need to nail down a book to guide our time (I'm thinking Hannah's Heart by Jenni Saake), and then discuss some group details. I will have to pull out some of my counseling skills from Nat "What are the tears about?" Kees at Colorado State University. (That was a fun time in my educational career so it will be fun to think back on that.) Above all I will be praying for the ladies who would venture into our group.

Yes, we're parenting little kiddos now and our infertility days are not our current reality, but I have not lost the heart for this group of ladies and I am looking forward to seeing what comes out of this. I don't think anyone who has walked the lonely road of infertility has forgotten, either. Will you join me in prayer?

Bible Gateway dot com.

“But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen and protect you from the evil one.”- 2 Thessalonians 3:3

That's all. :o)

Operation Wear 'Em OutI

Once a week or so I have a mom's night. No, not a night where I go out and paint the proverbial town, but a night where I am the only grown-up. I have a plan. I shall retitle the evening, "Play-our-faces-off night." I need some high-energy activities for us so I can put them down early to bed and have some me time. I love me time.

Looks like Chick-Fil-A is on that agenda. They have a playscape that that boys love. LB is always dripping with sweat by about 5 minutes of play. BB wants to fill up the pool, but I might leave that for nights when Randy is home and can help me wash grass of these guys.

Operation Wear 'Em Out begins...

Mommy, you're pretty.

I was just trying to get the kids settled down for their naps. They were pretty riled up. BB kept climbing into LB's bed and when I went to take him out they clung to each other and BB said, "But I love LB so much!" Awww.

A few minutes later I was singing the Cheeseburger Song (Veggie Tales), and BB said, "Mommy, your toenails aren't pretty." A month or so ago I had painted my toenails pink and BB was bragging to everyone about them. Who says boys aren't into beauty! I removed the pink a few weeks ago and went au natural until 5 minutes ago. Now my toenails are plum.

I asked BB, "Do you want me to paint my toenails?" and he got a sweet smile on his face and finally began to settle down. Who knew all it would take to get them to sleep was toenail polish?

I love my boys.

Clean eating

I'm not sure what this means, but I know it doesn't mean what I ate for dinner last night! But, I am on a health kick and am interested in changing my diet so that I feel more energy and less moody. Today we are going to a local farmer's market for some fresh produce. They also have "clean, wholesome, grass-fed beef and pastured chickens," whatever that means.

We started "getting ready" at 9:15 and now it's almost 10:30. We do not do "getting ready" fast in this house! The blessing for this morning is that LB let me dress him without screaming at me. A small victory.

Off to the farmer's market. LB hopes to see a cow. I don't think he means a steak, though.

Unexpected, non-child-related blessing.

Today I had plans to go to my friend Elisabeth's house for lunch with some of the moms from the boys' school. I was expecting to either know everyone there or have something obvious in common with everyone. When I knocked on the door an older woman answered and I was momentarily confused and thought I had gotten the wrong house. But then Elisabeth popped around the corner and I was relieved. Elisabeth is Swedish, although she has lived in the states for 10 years, and today I met two other women from her home country. One was a young married woman, and one was an 85-year-old widow. I Americanized their names and then began to mingle with the women I knew.

Then I met Marion, an engaging 74-year-old woman who is also a widow of 4 years. Then Vienna who I didn't know, and Doris from Puerto Rico. I ended up knowing fewer than 50% of the women there. I wouldn't say I was disappointed, but it just wasn't what I was expecting.

The moms from school sat at a table together, and the other table was the "international table." Although there was a seat at either table, I sat with the women I didn't know. I had a fabulous and blessed lunch with my new friends. I spent most of the time talking with Marion, as she told me about her 52-year-old beau and her upcoming move to be closer to her daughter. I chatted a little with the Swedish ladies about the Americanization of their names, of their language, and of the failure of the U.S. to encourage language learning in our schools.

Elisabeth served a traditional Swedish Smörgåstårta or "sandwich cake." It was just amazing. Isn't it gorgeous? I could have eaten 5 servings. We had ice-cream afterwards, and that paled in comparison to the Smörgåstårta. I never ever ever ever thought I would have preferred a sandwich over ice cream. Crazy.

I'm not sure I can express why I felt so blessed afterwards. I guess because it was so unexpected and different than having lunch with a pile of people I knew. Also because Elisabeth was so hospitable and planned an interesting international gathering with a dish from her country. Plus, as much as I adore my kids, our conversation was pretty much void of kid talk. It felt great to have flowing conversation with people in a different life stage than mine.

I really have no idea who reads my blog anymore, besides my mom, Niki, and Allison! But I want to encourage "my readers" to maybe sit at a table full of people you don't know at the next social gathering you attend. I know I will.

Thanks, Elisabeth!

Resting

Boy, life has been busy lately! We moved in September, began to get adjusted, and the boys are into everything at all times. Then we rescued Gracie and rehabilitated her through a leg amputation and now a spay. We are looking for a new home and I have evening plans tonight.

I went to look at homes this morning with our awesome, smart, beautiful real estate consultant and then came home to quickly pick up my care group list for choir. I called Randy at work to update him on the home situation and he encouraged me to take a breather this afternoon. Now I'm breathing.

Random thoughts. I saw 4 homes this morning and two of them were very nice. Another was quirky and quaint, not exactly our style, and another had a complicated back yard that would not be conducive to our current lifestyle. However, both of the areas we looked in are a little farther out than ideal for us, so we probably won't continue to look in those areas. We go back out on Saturday.

Gracie is doing well and was spayed yesterday. So now she has an even more interesting fur pattern. Here is a picture of her from Saturday.

Tonight I am having dinner with a college friend who I have not seen or spoken to in over 15 years (until last night, that is). I'll find a nice Texasy spot for us to dine. Should be fun!

Pillows

As I sit and do some nonsensical work on my computer, two naked boys play sumo babies.

BB just chased after LB with their pillows held to their chests, naked baby booties passing me by. Both giggling with naked glee. "Let's go to the yellow room," BB said as they scampered off.

Blessings.

(I could make this into a haiku, don't you think?"

Gracie's recovery, day 4

Gracie is very slowly and very surely perking up. She had her bandage taken off today and the vet said she looks really good. I'm not sure "looks good" describes it, but it is definitely an improvement from before. This is a real fighter. Not only is she getting used to being a house cat after living the wild life for the first 6 months, but getting used to two new cats and the loss of a limb. A lot of adjustments! She will need some time to figure out how to get around more stealthily with her new physique. I felt sad for her when she fell over during this video, but if you're not falling you're not trying, right? Maybe that only applies to skiing, I don't know.

Being scared of the other cats in the house hinders her recovery. She is still living in the bathroom and it's pretty small. There aren't really too many exciting things to do in there so there's not much reason to move around. Maybe she'll learn to flush the toilet. Although I'm not sure how, since we haven't used that bathroom for over 2 weeks. The vet thinks that after the sutures come out would be a good time to introduce all of these guys. I guess I should be glad to have another female in the house. This almost evens out the gender count at home.

She plays

These are some pictures from yesterday.






We went to the vet for a bandage change today. They took the bandage off completely and planned to leave it off until I reminded them that Gracie likes to lie around in her litter box! We'll leave the bandage on until Wednesday. Hopefully she'll be feeing much better and would rather hang in her bed instead of the poop box. The doctor said she seems to be doing well and things are healing up nicely. The visual image is a little Bride of Frankenstein, but not too bad. I'll have two days to get used to the image in my head before bye-bye bandage.

So tonight I went in to give her medicine and hold her for a little bit. She loves to be scratched under the chin. She purrs so loudly! After petting her for awhile I introduced the catnip mouse again. She actually batted at it for the first time. I was so proud! She looked very interested in it as I bat it around on the floor. Maybe some pouncing is in our near future!

Gracie's recovery, day 1

The recovery - day 1

Gracie one day post surgery:


The Fence, Gracie's nemesis:

Officially a tripod.

The vet called earlier today to let me know that Gracie is now a tripod kitty! He said she was hopping around before the surgery and he thought she would do great without all that dead weight. I can't wait to see her! She will have a drainage tube for 5 days and we'll have to monitor her closely for infection. In 2 weeks she'll have her staple sutures taken out and be almost as good as new!

Thanks, Dr. Fernandez!

I've got two legs.

Gracie has three. I think.

We took Kitten to the vet yesterday for a bandage change but there was so much continual damage they decided to keep her there and perform the surgery today. I am supposed to get a call when they are through. It's a little after 11:00 now.

Miss Kitty will have her front right leg amputated at the shoulder. Sounds gruesome, doesn't it? She will come home on Saturday and have to go back to the vet every few days for bandage changes and then to have her stitches removed. People at the San Antonio Feral Cat Coalition have given some money individually to help pay for these costs and we certainly appreciate it. Yes, it is expensive! How could it not be? But this kitty happened to end up in our fence and we will make the financial parts work. Consider it taking care of God's creation.

The videos I've been seeing on YouTube show tripod cats to function like many other able-bodied ones. I even saw a video of one cat a week after surgery and it looked like he'd been three-legged all of his life. Type in "Milton cat - one week after surgery part 3." His bandage is off and his fur has not grown back in, but it is not gory or anything. Unless that kind of thing totally freaks you out.

Oh, on another note, my neighbor captured the patriarch of this feral cat colony in a humane trap the other day. He has been neutered and returned to his colony.

So I'm off for lunch with the psuedo-crunchy Christine! I'll post another Gracie update later.

Gracie

Guess what. I like her! This little hissy kitty is turning into a real sweetheart. I am looking forward to getting to know her as a tripod kitty. I was just watching YouTube videos of three-legged cats and it seems to me they look pretty happy! Most are missing a back leg and Gracie will be missing her front, but they all seem to get along really well!

Last night a neighbor came by to meet Miss Kitty, so that I could get her opinion on whether or not she seemed adoptable. My neighbor felt quite confident that she would be. And so do I now. There was not going to be much of a life for a 3-legged kitty out on the streets of San Antone. At first the goal was reunification with her feral cat colony. But everyone is afraid that she would likely be harmed by another neighborhood cat or dog because she would be seen as the weak link.

One week from today she will have her surgery. Her post-amputation care will include regular dressing changes, medications, and stitches removal. Then after she is healed from this she will be spayed (insult to injury, right?) and adoptable. It has been a long week of kitty care, but I feel good about what we are doing. There must be a reason it was our fence she was caught in. More and more people are becoming emotionally invested in her life and recovery. This bodes well for kitty!

So am I going to fall in love with her and want to keep her? Uh, well, uh, no dear, not at all. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Two days later.

OK, so that wasn't really what I've been learning.

I've been learning that even when we are ugly and behaving badly that God still loves us and Jesus still died for us. Whether or not we "deserve" His love, we get it. He tends to us when we feel like nobody cares and maybe even nobody has reason to.

And I've learned all this from a kitty cat.

When we brought the kitten in to our home after my neighbor Sarah and I rescued her from the fence, I figured we were just a temporary holding tank. I thought Sarah would take her to the vet and then take her home to care for her. But Sarah had to work that afternoon and I ended up taking the cat to the vet.

The doctor said there were no broken bones and that she may or may not regain use of her arm. The veterinary bill was $150, which my sincere, animal-loving neighbor had given me before she left for work. No prob. I would give the kitty the medicine and she would learn to walk without her leg until the feeling maybe came back. At that point, there was still a little bit of hope for the limb. The kitty let us give her the medicine, so it seemed like things might be easy.

Until the smell. The wound had become infected but there was still circulation to the limb, so there was hope that she would regain use of it. The bill was $60 including the office visit, treatment, and meds for the infection. Upon going back today, however, more cells had died and there is no choice but to amputate the limb or euthanize the cat.

Yes it would be cheaper to euthanize the cat. I know it is an animal and not a human. But at what point is an animal no longer worth saving? No, this is not a beloved house pet, but it is one of God's creatures who needs help. I would not have taken this on by choice, but it has kind of fallen in my lap. Now it's not such an easy decision.

We've had this cat for a week and have been through a lot together. I know, "IT'S A CAT!" but it is still a living creature. I believe she will be adoptable, and I have been promised some assistance with the vet bill. Yes I will likely end up taking care of the cat after this procedure, but I'm willing to do it. She is used to me and she trusts me. And yes then we will try to find a home for her.

I have also learned that different causes speak to different people. Someone asked me today why I was going through so much effort to raise money to save this three-legged cat. Shouldn't I be more concerned with raising that money for medical care in Haiti? Or to help feed hungry children in Texas?

Of course I am concerned with those things. And at other times in my life I will absolutely give to similar causes as these. But right now I have a sweet kitty in my bathroom who I think has a great chance at being adopted and having a good life. There are plenty of happy, three-legged pets out there. In fact, more than one person has told me that pets with disabilities are often more quickly adopted than healthy animals. I am sick about what has happened in Haiti. I have several friends who have children, family, and friends in Haiti and are very worried about their lives and safety. It's terrible, and I am praying for those families.

If Gracie the cat, and yes, I named her, did not seem appropriate for adoption I don't think the best solution would be to have her leg amputated and let her back into the wild. Originally the goal was to get this feral cat back to her colony. In that case the most humane thing would be to euthanize. But now she's tame. She purrs. She's beautiful. In my heart of hearts I think she is adoptable and will bring someone a lot of joy.

I am not an animal rights activist. I'm not a vegetarian and I don't believe that plants have feelings. But I do believe that God created animals and He cares about His creation. I do have a very specific kitty to help. I'm not going to go out and roam the streets searching for kittens to take in, and I'm not going to stop giving to other charities because right now our money and the money of some other cat lovers are going toward saving the life of a previously feral kitty.

When I had a miscarriage years ago I began giving to the March of Dimes. Then that memory and resulting passion faded and I stopped donating there. I donate to the Special Olympics and other similar organizations because I am a music therapist and work with people who have those concerns. When there was cancer in my family I donated to the American Cancer Society. Right now I have an animal that needs help, so I am giving money to help her. Who knows to which organizations other circumstances might lead us in the future.

This post has changed directions. It was originally about what I believe that God is teaching me through this "feral cat ministry." Now it is me processing my beliefs regarding charitable donations. If you don't want to contribute to my ministry because there are other areas of ministry that you feel more passionately about, then give there. That's awesome! Keep me informed of other ministries and areas of need in the future. In the meantime, where's Bob Barker when I need him?

What I am learning this week.

First off, I am learning that animal rescuing is not a passion of mine. I am happy to help out a few animals I've become attached to, but I am not in this business for the long haul.

Last Monday the kids and I were playing in the backyard for the first time in what felt like ages. We were playing chase and hide-and-seek and having a lot of fun. But I kept hearing this aggressive meowing from our neighbor's yard. Each time I would walk toward it it would stop, so we'd keep playing.

Finally I went all the way to the back of the yard following the meowing and saw what looked like a chipmunk stuck through the fence. On closer inspection I noticed it was a very swollen cat's paw and the meowing was coming from a pretty, long-haired grey kitten who was looking hurt and angry! I couldn't figure out how to get her out, so I packed up the kids and walked over to the house where most of the kitten was stuck. Nobody was home.

So I called Animal Rescue and they said they couldn't help with domestic pets. I tried to get her out from my side of the fence, but there was no way. I have no idea how she got so stuck. The opening between the slats where she was couldn't have been more than about 1 centimeter. I know how big a centimeter is because it's the size of a miniature marshmallow, right, Mom?

What could I do? It was nap time for the boys, I hadn't eaten lunch, and this cat was absolutely pinned in there. I ended up calling my neighbor Sarah who, in a related animal story, was keeping Pink the beagle who I've blogged of before. She had told me she had rescued many animals before, so I thought she might be able to help me with the kitten. She jumped over the fence, wrapped Kitten in towels and gave me instructions on how to open up the fence slat a little with the head of a hammer. She got the kitten out!

This paw was swollen enough that it was probably as big as a golden retriever puppy's. She had no use of it and obviously needed to be taken to the vet. So Sarah gave me some money and arranged a vet visit. They did an x-ray and discovered that nothing was broken, but she obviously had considerable nerve damage. So I came home with a strange, angry cat who has been living in our downstairs bathroom for a week tomorrow.

The vet gave us some anti-inflammatory medicine to give to the cat. I put out some signs and slipped a note under the garage door of a neighbor who I thought could be the owner. She later called me (this was Tuesday night) and confirmed to me that the cat was a bona-fide member of a feral cat colony in our neighborhood. This neighbor, Pam, had just returned from a workshop teaching about how to manage feral cat colonies!

More later, as I am now on nap duty.

A new respect for single moms.

Not that I am anything near being a single parent, with my husband out of town for five days, and not that I haven't in the past had a respect for single moms, but I've a new appreciation today.

Over the past three years and two months there have been weeks when Randy has been out of town, but I've always fled the scene! I've spent several weeks with my wonderful mother-in-law and one week a few summers ago with my mom and dad in Iowa. We became very spoiled when Randy worked his last job as he didn't have to travel at all. But in the past two months he has had to travel almost two weeks. I am just not used to this nonsense! But it's OK, honey.

Anyway, my MIL could not make it down this time and after traveling for the holidays I didn't want to traipse the boys all over creation, so we decided to stay put. So this is my maiden voyage of parenting two very active boys by myself for the week. Ee-yikes!

Today went very well until bedtime. Then yikes again! We went to Chick-Fil-A for lunch which gave the boys a chance to run around a little. They did great and we had fun. BB even ate all his chicken for the first time ever, but poor thing forgot to beg me for a brownie before hand, so I didn't have to get him "a brownie if you eat all of your chicken." Oh well! Nap time went great and BB only climbed out of bed once. A victory!

This afternoon we took it easy on the TV (only 45 minutes - wow!) and had some great races in the hallway - running, hopping, leaping, skipping, and marching. Then bedtime. Yikes (of course I know I'm overusing this word).

The kids were in bed by 7:30, but that is when the fun (ahem) began. BB is our problem bedtime child. He climbs out of his bed numerous times, asks for snacks, puts things in his brother's crib, jumps around in his bed, throws things out of his bed, etc. Cute, huh? Well he is, but not so much when we're ready to end the day. So there was a lot of mayhem going on.

The problem is that LB is a total mama's boy and can't stand it when I'm not right with him. So every time I have to put BB back in his bed, LB screams "Mommy! Mommy!" Well not every night, but tonight. So after putting BB back in his bed about 4 times, one time after which he came down to the kitchen for a cheese stick, and one time after which I found him sitting in our bedroom playing on my computer, I decided to bite the bullet and stay in their room until they went to sleep.

All was pretty quiet as I silently listed the 50 United States in alphabetical order four times, until BB stood up in his bed and was trying to touch me. Anything to get my attention, right? So I got up to rub his back and hair for a few minutes seeing if that would put him to sleep. He was quiet, but as soon as I stopped he started to stand up again. So I left. And LB screamed bloody murder for several minutes.

I decided to just let them fuss for a little while and take a break, but when I went back up BB was on his way to our bedroom again, the little stinker, and LB was still screaming. I'd had it! I don't remember exactly what then transpired, but I know that I not-so-sweetly scooped BB up and put him back in his bed and told him to go to sleep. Then I shut the door - a major no-no. But I know when enough is enough for me, so I just let them cry it out. LB gave up first, and BB eventually gave in, too. I went to check on them expecting BB to either be on the floor or in LB's crib, but he was sound asleep in bed. They both were. Halleluia!

So one night down, three to go! We can do it! Back to Chick-Fil-A tomorrow? Perhaps. But I do know that I need a good night's sleep, God willing. So I'm off. See you tomorrow.

Yikes. Double yikes!

Our first Christmas eve

So it's not technically our first Christmas eve because really it's BB's fourth and LB's third, but it is the first year that both of our sweet, smart, strong boys have been able to grasp what Christmas is. All season we've talked about Jesus's birth, how Mary is Jesus's mommy, he was born in a manger/stable/barn. We have talked about how Joseph was Jesus's earthly father and how God was his heavenly father. I've used the words adoptive father to describe Joseph, but it's hard to continue that metaphor since BB has a birthdad, an earthly father, and a heavenly father. I wouldn't exactly describe God as a birthfather, though, would you? But that's not really my point.

We have also talked a little bit about Santa Claus. I don't see any harm in entertaining a Santa Claus, as long as the main focus of Christmas is on Jesus. Maybe someday I'll be convicted otherwise, but as of today we are going with both. This is really my point.

So tonight was the first time we really "played Santa" for the boys. We set out the stockings for Santa to fill, put out cookies, coaxed the kids to actually fall asleep, which wasn't easy, and then fill the tree with some presents for them and for us and Granny. It made me so happy! I'm thinking this is probably the last Christmas we will actually get to sleep without having to corral BB back into his room at different points during the night. In fact, this might even be an issue tonight.

Last night at 2:30 a.m. (yep, I realize night is not a.m., just go with me on this one), Granny found BB curled up in a chair in the living room sleeping. We have no idea how long he was there, but she put him back into his bed and he slept until 7. So there was some discussion this evening about when to put the gifts out - before going to bed or before the boys waking up. As of 10:pm the gifts are out, so we'll see.

We had the boys each choose a cookie to leave for Santa. BB carefully selected a gingerbread man and placed it, well, gingerly on the plate. Then it was LB's turn. "LB, would you like to pick a cookie for Santa Claus?" He sure did. He grabbed a gingerbread cookie from the tin and promptly bit its head off. As the grown ups tee-hee'd at LB's exuberance, BB began to tear up. He was sad because his little brother had eaten part of Santa's cookie. I was so sorry not to have gotten that exchange on video!

After the boys were in bed, one of whom was asleep, the other unknown, we were getting ready to go to bed when I realized the cookie plate was gone. "Where are the cookies," I asked? Randy had put them away. I looked at him like he was from outer space and said, "Are you kidding? How will they know Santa got the cookies?" From there we had to stage the cookie ingestion. I took a gingerbread out and bit off its head just like my son. Then Randy ate the arm. Then, aw what the heck, ate the whole thing and left out some crumbs. Now that's the way to make sure Santa ate his cookies! (What are we going to do if he really comes and we've eaten his snack?)

So it remains to be seen what happens tomorrow. One of the great things about Granny's house is that Randy and I get to sleep in in the mornings while Granny tends to the little ones. But we don't want to miss their little faces tomorrow! I told Granny to hold them off as long as she could and then come get us. I will have the video camera out this time!

Merry Christmas!

Fair is fair.

This morning I was pouring milk for the boys, one in a short cup and one in a tall cup. The tall cup actually had less milk in it because I planned to give it to LB and he doesn't drink as much milk as his big bro.

When I got to the couch where they were sitting I gave both cups to BB so he could decide which cup he wanted. He started to go for the short cup, then held the two up together. Noticing one cup was bigger than the other, he gave the short cup, the one with more milk, to the little guy.

All is fair in love and brotherhood!

Now for something that might actually be interesting!

It's weird to go from a blog about infertility and the quest for parenting to a blog about daily life with a toddler and a preschooler. Many times I feel like I have nothing interesting to say anymore besides BB did this and LB did that. See the pictures of my boys, aren't they cute? I'm tired, we moved, etc.

Now that our son BB by adoption is 3, a lot of the things which at first were adoption issues are now just parenting issues. Adoption does not really affect us day to day so there usually isn't anything really interesting to blog about on that front. But I'm having a hard adoption day today and thought I'd put it out there into cyberspace.

For someone who is just beginning to consider open adoption, it might seem strange to hear that you're likely more likely to want more contact with your child's birth parents than you get. I've always heard that and was thankful that it wasn't our experience. I have been very happy with the amount of contact we have had with BB's birthmom. I have not been satisfied with the level of openness with his birthdad. This has nothing to do with how I feel about him, because I really feel fine, thanks, but I so wish we could catch up with him sometime and that hasn't worked out yet.

I get it. It can be hard for birth parents. I would imagine that especially for the dad, who did not carry the baby and may not even have been a part of the pregnancy, to want to or understand how best to be a part of that child's life. In our case we saw BB's birth dad when BB was 2 months old and haven't seen him since. But I feel like I must point out that I don't believe that this stems from a lack of feeling on his part. I know how much he cares for BB and the life we try to provide for him. Fortunately, with the magic of Facebook we are able to keep in touch on some level, though, and I am so thankful for that! He is our Facebook friend and so are some of his family, giving BB a nice little extended family on Facebook. But nothing beats the face-to-face visit for sure.

So I am not too surprised to find out that it doesn't look good to meet up with him this trip. It was a possibility but is not coming to fruition. I understand we all have busy lives now apart from each other and it's difficult to coordinate. But I also feel like BB is getting to the age where he understands a lot more and will some day figure out that he has a birthmother in his life but not a birth dad. The more time that passes the more concerned I become that we will not see BB's birth dad in person again.

What I was not prepared for is the likelihood of our not meeting up with BB's birthmom this time, either, also due to changing life circumstances. This brings me a great deal of anxiety. I know it's been just this once, but what if this is an indication of things to come? What if she is out of our lives now? I'm trying not to let my mind go there, but I can't help it. I want what is best for BB and I think that means regular visits with his birthmom. Plus, I like her and want to see her, too. Selfish me.

Up to now we've had what I think is an ideal relationship with BB's birthmom. Randy's mom lives fairly close to her so we've been able to see her each time we've come to visit. There have been many opportunities for the boys and I to hang here for a week at a time which has made it very easy to continue visits. Last Christmas she came to our home and took our couch back with her for some new furniture. She was with us the weekend before LB was born and came to family pictures. We have had many chances to get to know each other and for her to spend time with BB.

I think I'm being dramatic about our relationship possibly being over, but it's how I've been feeling and I wanted to get that down "on paper." My guess is that this trip is just a bust in terms of trying to catch birthparents, but that the next time will work out better. It's the first time things haven't gone as planned. (As planned in my mind at least.) And it's only Monday which means that we could still work something out this week. I hope so.

Well, gosh. How cute are these?

Pink's owner has been found!

They live down the street. The woman who called me to ask if I had lost the dog told me that her neighbor across the street took the dog in for the night on Tuesday and took it for a walk the next day to see if anyone recognized her. They did! I'm not sure why she was missing her tag, or why her owners weren't looking for her, but I'm so happy to find out she is taken care of. She was a very lovely dog.

Sweet doggy.

Ever see Annie? There's a song she sings when a stray dog finds her and decides they belong together.

Dumb dog, why are you following me?
You're as dumb as they come, dog,
Why don't you just let me be?
I ain't gonna feed you - ain't got a scrap for you,
Need you - don't give a 'rap for you
Dumb dog! Dumber than they come, Dog!
You're the most presuming dog that a human could know.

Ugh. The other day we met a sweet doggie we call "Pink" because she wears a pink, rhinestone-studded collar that currently has no tag attached. I am beginning to be afraid that her owner ripped the tag off and let her loose in our neighborhood hoping that someone will take her in.

She had been following a neighbor who was hoping we were the owners. The boys were so excited about the dog and she was so friendly and pretty, that I decided with some trepidation to keep her in the back yard until we found her owner. Pink and the boys played joyfully in the back yard for awhile before the humans and I went in for lunch and left Pink outside. She jumped the fence and was gone.

"Oh well," I thought, "we certainly don't need a dog!" but the longer she was gone I started to worry about her and miss her. After lunch BB and I were sitting on the couch and he said, "I miss doggy." I told him I missed her too and that she had gone to find her family.

The next thing I know I hear whimpering and scratching at the door, and lo and behold, Pink had jumped back over the fence and wanted to come in. So I let the stinker in. She happily sniffed around and let the boys play with her. I took pictures. Then I put her back outside in order to make some signs to put up.

I made several haphazard signs to put up, and left Pink in the yard while the boys and I went to post them. When we got to our second stop, here she comes running by, having escaped again. I went ahead and left the signs thinking at least I would know if someone was looking for her. No calls. Well, I did get one call, but it was someone asking if we'd lost a dog. And let me say, this is no dumb dog. She grabbed one of BB's shoes when she left our house and carried it half way down the street. I think she was trying to return the shoe.

She didn't come back. After the boys woke up from their naps BB said, "Where did my doggy go?" and LB said, "Cant see her. Mommy, give dog this bell? My can't see her." Think they fell in love just a little? Think I did?

I told Randy all about it and he was just as happy to come home to a house sans dog. Part of me was glad that she didn't return, but part of me was hoping she would. This was Monday.

So last night when I returned from BSF and was preparing lunches for my guys, Randy looks out the back door and says, "We have a visitor."

I am beginning to worry about this dog. I really hope she is just jumping her owner's fence like she jumps ours. I just wish I could know for sure so I wouldn't worry about her. She is obviously a loved dog, seems to have been recently groomed, and is SO good with kids. BB liked to pry her mouth open to look at her teeth! She is also a young dog. Not necessarily a puppy, but maybe a tween? Ha.

We don't need a dog. Can I say that again?

What do you think I should do if this dog keeps returning - attach a note to her like a homing pigeon? That's laughable. Message in a bottle?

I really hope she does not come back again tonight. Or do I?