I set the clock this morning for 5:30. I thought I'd tell the bus drivers/assistants why in the world Manuel had been taken from school again after he got soaring remarks last week, but I felt out of sorts and crashed back in bed. I woke to a call from the school, because his mother had already called with her story; but they wanted mine. I certainly obliged them. Then, I obliged the social worker. Of course, this is a story she's heard time and again. "Mom gets another goal on her mind and decides to say her children are too close to the caregivers or vice versa." I have other words for it.
We had a couple more dental issues to resolve today and AFTER they gassed Macklynn, they decided that the hung tooth was something for an oral surgeon, but this is the last day before our insurance lapses - long story. At least they saw him and McKala after I showed up 2 hours late getting the appointment cards confused. There are still some cheerful, God fearing state workers in the world. No, I'm not ashamed to say I took the children to the Iredell County Health Department for this. I rather enjoy being one of the ones whose first language is that of "American". I had to find something in town to remove the permament marks a couple of little fellas left on our floor. Too bad there isn't something to remove the damage to the souls left here........So, Dad sent me to find M.E.K. I doubt too many guys are frequenting my blog, but if you are one of them, you should already know that it's some BAD stuff. We've tried everything else to remove the glow-in-the-dark marker on the linoleum. I also got cash for the laundry mat and to get the $3.29 price for gas. I cannot believe I'm saying that or that Mike spent $100 K on fuel last year to run 1 truck.
We hauled 6 huge loads of clothes and sheets to wash. Mike's suggestion was a relief. Believe me, it's not the first time. Once, we did 14 loads while we were having septic problems, on our anniversary none the less, but it was a little like being a new couple. All I know is that these HE front loading machines like we bought are just about worthless. Only good thing is they spin the clothes almost dry BUT that last little bit seems to be what leeks out.... In walking back to the car, I spied a gray striped kitten under a tire. I called Miranda out to grab her chicken from work to tempt it to us. She succeeded and now we fully expect help with pest control in the barn and will probably do as we have in years past, let her have a litter of little helpers before we "fix" anyone, not to mention the joy the kids will have in new babies. Funny to find out when we got home that Megan had also adopted a stray today, a puppy she's thinking of naming "Sprocket" since he'll live in Mom and Dad's shop with her, my young mechanic.
We couldn't have left for home at a worse time. Within a couple of minutes, we were right in the middle of the worst halestorm I've ever been caught in. I was absolutely blinded and pulled into a driveway, only to finally see 2 really big trees. Yep, I backed that baby up, but don't think I didn't consider for a moment that this situation was interestingly coinciding with the claim I had to file for Miranda's wreck in the driveway this weekend. There was a tornado warning right there and I'm thankful once again for a safe return and that the cat didn't claw Miranda to pieces in the midst of it all.
My ankles have been swollen for an unusual several days in a row from standing, stress, and the amount of ham we've had around here. Miranda had requested one recently, so we ate on that for 2 or 3 days, then God bless my Mom; she brought one my Dad smoked all the way from Georgia and we made a couple meals on it. I swear I think someone here even cooked SPAM after that. Anyway, Mike picked me up a bottle of muscadine wine bottled in nearby Mocksville and I'm enjoying it immensely right now. Afterall it's a diuretic, so I'm in need of it, right?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Only God Knows
This week was laden with things that kept it from moving smoothly. Monday's visit to the dentist in National Children's Dental Care month seemed to be a good thing 'til I found out that 4 of the kids had cavities. We normally take over the office, ham it up, and get rave reviews in the end. Best I can tell, one of the things that I have encouraged has lent itself to them. A large family often causes a "get what you can while you can" effect. Saving stuff in their rooms (instead of eating it up right away, a good thing) has fallen over into snacking before bed. AHA!
I took Michael to the library to hopefully inspire him, only to have him say he'd already seen all about this or that on TV; we do watch a lot of history and science. I have to admit there have been times when I've avoided the library like the plague, as many mothers with several small/vocal children have, I'm sure. We headed to the dreaded Wal-Mart afterwards and just as I got out of the car, behind us I saw driver of a truck climb down out of his rig. He looked like a younger Mike and tired, kinda dirty from whatever he'd been unloading. I guessed he was there to get supplies and food for his truck. His lonely existense gave me a momentary flashback of what all those trips Mike had taken over the years must've been like. And as hard as it's been for any feeling to return to this relationship, I was glad to have a sudden twinge, a spark of compassion. After all, his truck turned 1,000,000 miles this week. He has put every last one of those on in the last 10 years and has brought home many a dollar to us for it.
Sebastian reverted in his potty training this week, peeing in his clothes and on whatever else was around as many as 5 times a day. Melody found out she has another UTI, which led to even more laundry. There is a tremendous amount of it to get done. Madalynn appears to have embraced her new sickly, whoa is me so I can get away with anything, attitude. She also tripped off the retaining wall to add to her list of whoas. All of this and more happened before today.
Today I planned to spend preparing for my parents and little niece, Maggie, to come up from Georgia with the most magnificent desk I've ever seen that Michael designed and my Dad built for him. Miranda volunteered to get up and take McKala to her first softball practice for the middle school and Melody to her last basketball game. In moving the car before the windshield was thawed and accidentally turning on the wipers and freaking out to get them off, she ran right off the driveway and into the fencepost. She didn't just tear a huge hole in our front bumper and broke the mirror off, but somehow kept going and scratched the car all the way to the back. Here's the problem: we already have enough claims. Several solutions have been tossed around, but because this is her SECOND time doing this, it will not be easily resolved.
Heck, this morning I finally found clean panties and then misplaced them between taking Manuel to the bathroom and the computer, which I found the screen image turned upside down on when I returned and I surely don't know enough to straighten out after little fingers have been at work. A little later, I realized I had a mix-up in kid "taxiing" and put a call in to a coach to hang onto 1 of the kids 'til I could get there. While I was in transit, a call came to the house that a friend had that child because the coach had been hauled off in a Sheriff's car. WHAT? I will say on his behalf that the ref he had it out with is terribly one-sided and the coach is ordinarily a very nice guy.
And here's where this week became soberingly serious: I learned of some things that've been said and done behind my back. That was disconcerting enough, but today, out of the blue, we were accused of trying to have the boys for ourselves. I went SLAM off on that phone. I told the mother that I haven't looked this bad in a while and it's because I committed to doing what is right with the boys. I let loose and the neighbors over the hill could probably hear every word. I doubt I'm at liberty to say too much, but long story short, she came, babbling about how she didn't understand, hadn't said this and that, someone must've lied, crying innocently. One of the girls got in her face and let her have it. See, the mother thinks we have grown too close to them and neglects to see the daily sacrifice of time and effort that has been made by each and every member of our own family. I hope that our children will still see fit to help others after they saw the display of her ripping her children away, going 3 hrs from here to an old friend's home to live, to mooch some more. Difference is what she thinks is going to free her from Social Services just ensnared her. They're onto her already. She just quit the first job she's had in a year to run away and start again. The boys won't be sleeping their sound 12 hours in Madalynn's dark and comfortable room in their own beds tonight. She has fled in her own pride and paranoia for about the 6th time in the last year, dragging them along with her claiming to protect them. I have seen improvement in some areas and it breaks me to see the halt it has come to. We didn't want her boys. We wanted to make a difference. A slap in the face is what we got for that. I do not regret any of it and I can only hope that seeds planted will find a way to blossom.
I took Michael to the library to hopefully inspire him, only to have him say he'd already seen all about this or that on TV; we do watch a lot of history and science. I have to admit there have been times when I've avoided the library like the plague, as many mothers with several small/vocal children have, I'm sure. We headed to the dreaded Wal-Mart afterwards and just as I got out of the car, behind us I saw driver of a truck climb down out of his rig. He looked like a younger Mike and tired, kinda dirty from whatever he'd been unloading. I guessed he was there to get supplies and food for his truck. His lonely existense gave me a momentary flashback of what all those trips Mike had taken over the years must've been like. And as hard as it's been for any feeling to return to this relationship, I was glad to have a sudden twinge, a spark of compassion. After all, his truck turned 1,000,000 miles this week. He has put every last one of those on in the last 10 years and has brought home many a dollar to us for it.
Sebastian reverted in his potty training this week, peeing in his clothes and on whatever else was around as many as 5 times a day. Melody found out she has another UTI, which led to even more laundry. There is a tremendous amount of it to get done. Madalynn appears to have embraced her new sickly, whoa is me so I can get away with anything, attitude. She also tripped off the retaining wall to add to her list of whoas. All of this and more happened before today.
Today I planned to spend preparing for my parents and little niece, Maggie, to come up from Georgia with the most magnificent desk I've ever seen that Michael designed and my Dad built for him. Miranda volunteered to get up and take McKala to her first softball practice for the middle school and Melody to her last basketball game. In moving the car before the windshield was thawed and accidentally turning on the wipers and freaking out to get them off, she ran right off the driveway and into the fencepost. She didn't just tear a huge hole in our front bumper and broke the mirror off, but somehow kept going and scratched the car all the way to the back. Here's the problem: we already have enough claims. Several solutions have been tossed around, but because this is her SECOND time doing this, it will not be easily resolved.
Heck, this morning I finally found clean panties and then misplaced them between taking Manuel to the bathroom and the computer, which I found the screen image turned upside down on when I returned and I surely don't know enough to straighten out after little fingers have been at work. A little later, I realized I had a mix-up in kid "taxiing" and put a call in to a coach to hang onto 1 of the kids 'til I could get there. While I was in transit, a call came to the house that a friend had that child because the coach had been hauled off in a Sheriff's car. WHAT? I will say on his behalf that the ref he had it out with is terribly one-sided and the coach is ordinarily a very nice guy.
And here's where this week became soberingly serious: I learned of some things that've been said and done behind my back. That was disconcerting enough, but today, out of the blue, we were accused of trying to have the boys for ourselves. I went SLAM off on that phone. I told the mother that I haven't looked this bad in a while and it's because I committed to doing what is right with the boys. I let loose and the neighbors over the hill could probably hear every word. I doubt I'm at liberty to say too much, but long story short, she came, babbling about how she didn't understand, hadn't said this and that, someone must've lied, crying innocently. One of the girls got in her face and let her have it. See, the mother thinks we have grown too close to them and neglects to see the daily sacrifice of time and effort that has been made by each and every member of our own family. I hope that our children will still see fit to help others after they saw the display of her ripping her children away, going 3 hrs from here to an old friend's home to live, to mooch some more. Difference is what she thinks is going to free her from Social Services just ensnared her. They're onto her already. She just quit the first job she's had in a year to run away and start again. The boys won't be sleeping their sound 12 hours in Madalynn's dark and comfortable room in their own beds tonight. She has fled in her own pride and paranoia for about the 6th time in the last year, dragging them along with her claiming to protect them. I have seen improvement in some areas and it breaks me to see the halt it has come to. We didn't want her boys. We wanted to make a difference. A slap in the face is what we got for that. I do not regret any of it and I can only hope that seeds planted will find a way to blossom.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Rounding out the fun
I thought I had something to put together on here, but that was before we got home and the Skyping began, Facebook's obstinate album creator gave me grief, and Star brought the boys back from their day out. Now, it's almost 1 am, so we'll just see.
The pictures were of the kids' day skiing, rounding out the Febfest. Alright, I'm gonna assume anyone who's read or knows much about me, surely has figured out that, for lack of a better word, we "homeschool". So, today was "Homeschool Day" at the slopes - great price of $21 a head for gear, lesson, and time. We've been taking advantage of this for several years and are very glad we still live close enough to the mountains to make it worthwhile. All but Madalynn ski or board; she got to try out ice skates for the first time, having the whole rink to herself, since yesterday it was so warm that it melted down to the coils. Thankfully, it stayed in the 40's for a good portion of the day, warming suddenly though, and the layer pile started in the lodge. When we got there, I sat a bottle of sunscreen in the middle of the table. Did anyone use it? No. Will they regret it? Yes. Why didn't Mom do it? She was following a grumpy 3 year old around the lodge. Besides, anyone heard of live and LEARN? This has happened before.
Nothing too eventful went on with the kids except Michael getting stuck on the lift for 1/2 hr. What's funny is that he decided to take off the skis and jump when a patroller ran up and screamed for him to stop AND to pass that message down the line. Sincerely thankful I am that none of us were hurt in the fun. I enjoy watching the testing of themselves with new skills every year, taking calculated risks. We were surprised to run into several old friends. I sat a little with my circle of moms, who didn't have the homeschool look or "air"- instead were fit, colorful, silly, confident in their God-given beauty. (Status quo is no way to be, especially if you're talking about the mom/teacher look.) These ladies are not only playing out their most important roles to the max, but are running rental companies, going to nursing school, writing school curriculum and speaking regularly, travelling the world as the wife of a diplomat (who left the Congo this year and is headed to Cambodia), and, yes, there's me - truly the "stay at home" mom, very content in that, but sometimes hoping for a way to help out my husband.
This diplomat's wife was actually sitting in a corner minding her own business, when I interrupted her quiet, lowlit world needing a seat on the couch to keep Madalynn in a stronghold long enough for her to calm down and accept sleep. I did the kind of furious rocking that one does with a frantic child. I looked like a lunatic but it worked and I was finally able to have a meaningful conversation. She's only been teaching her children for 4 years and I for, well ever since I had kids, we all do really. Anyway, I told her I don't have any particular gifts; I tend to break machines; I don't bake and I didn't teach the girls to....but what I told her is that I "enable" them all and she eloquently replaced my word with "facilitate"....perfect, because when I see a bent forming in a child, I pray about it and find the resources, the places, the masterful to grow them there... God most often has already set it all in play; we just have to seek it out.
While we were sunk down there, Mike called saying I had to return a call he'd gotten 'cause he was in MA. Low and behold, I dialed up the Animal Control officer. He said, "Ma'am, I believe I have your horse." Through a broken signal, I said, "Oh, that's funny I already have it worked out to have him brought back to you tomorrow." Not knowing the nature of the original rescue from last fall (and that's one for another day, us not knowing he was a repeat offender escape artist, on top of several other things), the officer paused and asked, " You WANT me to take your horse???" "Yes, that would work out great for me," I said, sooo wishing I could see the look on his face. Catching a wayward horse and hauling it off are two fewer things on my list for Thursday. Man, that was easy, I think, that is, IF he actually caught it. Another lesson learned, you DO get what you pay for when you give $100 for a horse. Now, the horse the children had the honor of working with yesterday is an entirely different story. Reining that Percheron ("closest of modern horses to the medieval WARRIOR horse") down those rows, plowing up the earth was a notable experience. For me, just watching that gorgeous beast at work was a pleasure.
Back to Boone, Pizza Hut there after skiing has become part of the tradition. For some reason, they sat our big bunch of Harpers right in the middle of the room and I hammed it up with our server over it. (I got outta there eating 2 pieces, well, not counting the roll.) When it came time to leave, we'd noticed a group of homeschoolers parading into the other room - long skirts, could live with (and have, another story for another day) BUT in combination with tennis shoes, NOPE, no can do. I told him, "We're homeschoolers, too, and we like it better our way." He got a tremendous kick out of that. It's not that I give that much negative thought to what really are good intentions of others; I just don't care to fit in anyone's box. Being part of any category other than simply Christian ("no more, no less" as a friend says) is not for us. On the way home, the older girls came up with something that could be "for us". They laughed hysterically at their cleverness in creating a new government post: successful, experienced parents who should have permits to discipline other people's kids (when parents, who are out amongst the rest of us, won't discipline their own), kinda like a public service .... with a paddle permit! ;)
The pictures were of the kids' day skiing, rounding out the Febfest. Alright, I'm gonna assume anyone who's read or knows much about me, surely has figured out that, for lack of a better word, we "homeschool". So, today was "Homeschool Day" at the slopes - great price of $21 a head for gear, lesson, and time. We've been taking advantage of this for several years and are very glad we still live close enough to the mountains to make it worthwhile. All but Madalynn ski or board; she got to try out ice skates for the first time, having the whole rink to herself, since yesterday it was so warm that it melted down to the coils. Thankfully, it stayed in the 40's for a good portion of the day, warming suddenly though, and the layer pile started in the lodge. When we got there, I sat a bottle of sunscreen in the middle of the table. Did anyone use it? No. Will they regret it? Yes. Why didn't Mom do it? She was following a grumpy 3 year old around the lodge. Besides, anyone heard of live and LEARN? This has happened before.
Nothing too eventful went on with the kids except Michael getting stuck on the lift for 1/2 hr. What's funny is that he decided to take off the skis and jump when a patroller ran up and screamed for him to stop AND to pass that message down the line. Sincerely thankful I am that none of us were hurt in the fun. I enjoy watching the testing of themselves with new skills every year, taking calculated risks. We were surprised to run into several old friends. I sat a little with my circle of moms, who didn't have the homeschool look or "air"- instead were fit, colorful, silly, confident in their God-given beauty. (Status quo is no way to be, especially if you're talking about the mom/teacher look.) These ladies are not only playing out their most important roles to the max, but are running rental companies, going to nursing school, writing school curriculum and speaking regularly, travelling the world as the wife of a diplomat (who left the Congo this year and is headed to Cambodia), and, yes, there's me - truly the "stay at home" mom, very content in that, but sometimes hoping for a way to help out my husband.
This diplomat's wife was actually sitting in a corner minding her own business, when I interrupted her quiet, lowlit world needing a seat on the couch to keep Madalynn in a stronghold long enough for her to calm down and accept sleep. I did the kind of furious rocking that one does with a frantic child. I looked like a lunatic but it worked and I was finally able to have a meaningful conversation. She's only been teaching her children for 4 years and I for, well ever since I had kids, we all do really. Anyway, I told her I don't have any particular gifts; I tend to break machines; I don't bake and I didn't teach the girls to....but what I told her is that I "enable" them all and she eloquently replaced my word with "facilitate"....perfect, because when I see a bent forming in a child, I pray about it and find the resources, the places, the masterful to grow them there... God most often has already set it all in play; we just have to seek it out.
While we were sunk down there, Mike called saying I had to return a call he'd gotten 'cause he was in MA. Low and behold, I dialed up the Animal Control officer. He said, "Ma'am, I believe I have your horse." Through a broken signal, I said, "Oh, that's funny I already have it worked out to have him brought back to you tomorrow." Not knowing the nature of the original rescue from last fall (and that's one for another day, us not knowing he was a repeat offender escape artist, on top of several other things), the officer paused and asked, " You WANT me to take your horse???" "Yes, that would work out great for me," I said, sooo wishing I could see the look on his face. Catching a wayward horse and hauling it off are two fewer things on my list for Thursday. Man, that was easy, I think, that is, IF he actually caught it. Another lesson learned, you DO get what you pay for when you give $100 for a horse. Now, the horse the children had the honor of working with yesterday is an entirely different story. Reining that Percheron ("closest of modern horses to the medieval WARRIOR horse") down those rows, plowing up the earth was a notable experience. For me, just watching that gorgeous beast at work was a pleasure.
Back to Boone, Pizza Hut there after skiing has become part of the tradition. For some reason, they sat our big bunch of Harpers right in the middle of the room and I hammed it up with our server over it. (I got outta there eating 2 pieces, well, not counting the roll.) When it came time to leave, we'd noticed a group of homeschoolers parading into the other room - long skirts, could live with (and have, another story for another day) BUT in combination with tennis shoes, NOPE, no can do. I told him, "We're homeschoolers, too, and we like it better our way." He got a tremendous kick out of that. It's not that I give that much negative thought to what really are good intentions of others; I just don't care to fit in anyone's box. Being part of any category other than simply Christian ("no more, no less" as a friend says) is not for us. On the way home, the older girls came up with something that could be "for us". They laughed hysterically at their cleverness in creating a new government post: successful, experienced parents who should have permits to discipline other people's kids (when parents, who are out amongst the rest of us, won't discipline their own), kinda like a public service .... with a paddle permit! ;)
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
I wasn't kidding
I posted on Facebook recently that I'm just realizing there is NO such thing as a "perfect" day to start a lesson, a project, an exercise regimen, or anything for that matter. Yesterday was proof, a Monday, beginning of the week, hormones "stable", feeling chipper, spring coming, list of incremental weight loss rewards done, and the devil himself ready to stop me. All 4 little people woke me/us up sometime in the night Sunday: 1 with night terrors, 1 sitting on the end of his bed crying inexplicably, 1 talking in his sleep, and 1 restless from her doses of steroids, I believe, or maybe her body trying to digest the enormous amount of food she's been eating from them. Manuel has to get up at 5:30, 2 days a week for school, but before we did that, Mike left for TN at 3 am. You get the picture, broken sleep. I did go back to bed, but not without the phone ringing all morning.
With some sleep under my belt, I was onto my big walk. First I got a call from Miranda, who started her morning shift at Shoney's and had lost her debit card, went to the bank for cash, bank closed for holiday, wanted to use my card (but I reminded her that since I thought it was lost, I had it deactivated). She then informed me what really mattered is that she couldn't get our 3 month old car to start. After having her look through the manual, I had to tell her to make the dreaded call to Daddy. He fixed her right up telling her to move the steering wheel because the car was probably in a bind. He didn't find out 'til last night that she had no money and 7 miles to go on gas. Thankfully, she found her card in the bottom of her bag. Funny, that morning I was just thinking how good it is for a 16 year old to learn about banking, budgeting, car care, time management (and night classes soon), dealing with the public at large as well as authority, and finding out how difficult it can be to survive on minimum pay. She made it through this lesson while sitting at a vacant bank that was in a less than desirable location, independent but with a lifeline, short as it was with one bar of battery left on her phone.
Then, Mike called to say my card from our other account had been turned off because of "suspicious activity" and needed me to check on it ASAP - bank closed; going on my walk! A few more people managed to catch me on my laps around the property. One I particularly soaked in was the view of our neighbor on the hill plowing his field with his humongous horse. I love beauty and usefulness all wrapped up in one. Later, he came by and invited me to bring the kids to watch today; learning 101, I say!
The walk/sprints up the hill made me feel like a car that's oil has been changed. Heck, I had to do something after being pathetically out of breath on Saturday when Michael, now 13, and his fellow appreciator of all things dangerous accidentally started a fire in the field. The ironic thing is that I was on the phone with the other boy's mother talking about them and their potential to be the leaders and warriors of tomorrow. I turned around to see the small blaze behind the boys as they were laughing it up and walking back to the house, clueless. The firecracker scare to the horse didn't go as planned. The wind had blown it off the driveway. The boys did the smart thing and ran to the volleyball court for sand and were doing a good job with boots and rake, but then a gust came. I was coming with 2 half filled 5 gallon buckets of water. As I was running back up, ridiculously out of breath, I saw our neighbor run down wanting to help AND warning the boys that a family friend had been surrounded and died in such a fire. One of the boys didn't have his shoes on, so wasn't "staying in the black". Long story, short, the whole Fire Dept and all the volunteers came out. We know most of them as coaches and neighbors. Michael who had a game to play 2 hours later was the butt of many jokes, I'm sure. Less than "perfect"/scheduled days are what "life's lessons" are made of and the quicker I accept it and work around it, the happier I shall be.
So, this morning I've been up since 5:30. A beautiful thing is happening; my stomach is growling, which is God's way of saying it's time to eat, but only a little when one has so much other "fuel to burn". The sky is blue and a walk must be imminent. I broke my 3rd pair of ear buds yesterday; maybe it's a sign that I should do some praying while I'm walking. I know someone who just had a mastectomy, someone whose father has 2 chambers shutting down and is in line for a transplant, people who are facing their mortality daily, of a young girl who is mutilating herself - feeling displaced (left as a child, although she is well-loved now), a grandmother who is trying desperately to adopt her 6 year old grandson whom she has had since he was 2 months old and addicted, my husband whose body has gone haywire but he goes to work every chance he gets so we can have days like yesterday - picnic under the bridge, toes in the water, children where God intended them to be.....
With some sleep under my belt, I was onto my big walk. First I got a call from Miranda, who started her morning shift at Shoney's and had lost her debit card, went to the bank for cash, bank closed for holiday, wanted to use my card (but I reminded her that since I thought it was lost, I had it deactivated). She then informed me what really mattered is that she couldn't get our 3 month old car to start. After having her look through the manual, I had to tell her to make the dreaded call to Daddy. He fixed her right up telling her to move the steering wheel because the car was probably in a bind. He didn't find out 'til last night that she had no money and 7 miles to go on gas. Thankfully, she found her card in the bottom of her bag. Funny, that morning I was just thinking how good it is for a 16 year old to learn about banking, budgeting, car care, time management (and night classes soon), dealing with the public at large as well as authority, and finding out how difficult it can be to survive on minimum pay. She made it through this lesson while sitting at a vacant bank that was in a less than desirable location, independent but with a lifeline, short as it was with one bar of battery left on her phone.
Then, Mike called to say my card from our other account had been turned off because of "suspicious activity" and needed me to check on it ASAP - bank closed; going on my walk! A few more people managed to catch me on my laps around the property. One I particularly soaked in was the view of our neighbor on the hill plowing his field with his humongous horse. I love beauty and usefulness all wrapped up in one. Later, he came by and invited me to bring the kids to watch today; learning 101, I say!
The walk/sprints up the hill made me feel like a car that's oil has been changed. Heck, I had to do something after being pathetically out of breath on Saturday when Michael, now 13, and his fellow appreciator of all things dangerous accidentally started a fire in the field. The ironic thing is that I was on the phone with the other boy's mother talking about them and their potential to be the leaders and warriors of tomorrow. I turned around to see the small blaze behind the boys as they were laughing it up and walking back to the house, clueless. The firecracker scare to the horse didn't go as planned. The wind had blown it off the driveway. The boys did the smart thing and ran to the volleyball court for sand and were doing a good job with boots and rake, but then a gust came. I was coming with 2 half filled 5 gallon buckets of water. As I was running back up, ridiculously out of breath, I saw our neighbor run down wanting to help AND warning the boys that a family friend had been surrounded and died in such a fire. One of the boys didn't have his shoes on, so wasn't "staying in the black". Long story, short, the whole Fire Dept and all the volunteers came out. We know most of them as coaches and neighbors. Michael who had a game to play 2 hours later was the butt of many jokes, I'm sure. Less than "perfect"/scheduled days are what "life's lessons" are made of and the quicker I accept it and work around it, the happier I shall be.
So, this morning I've been up since 5:30. A beautiful thing is happening; my stomach is growling, which is God's way of saying it's time to eat, but only a little when one has so much other "fuel to burn". The sky is blue and a walk must be imminent. I broke my 3rd pair of ear buds yesterday; maybe it's a sign that I should do some praying while I'm walking. I know someone who just had a mastectomy, someone whose father has 2 chambers shutting down and is in line for a transplant, people who are facing their mortality daily, of a young girl who is mutilating herself - feeling displaced (left as a child, although she is well-loved now), a grandmother who is trying desperately to adopt her 6 year old grandson whom she has had since he was 2 months old and addicted, my husband whose body has gone haywire but he goes to work every chance he gets so we can have days like yesterday - picnic under the bridge, toes in the water, children where God intended them to be.....
Friday, February 18, 2011
Macklynn, Meant for More?
I've documented this week of appointments, confusion, parties, practices and games, sudden fevers, friendly conversations, all on Facebook. Tonight I'm just plain exhausted. After writing about the first 3 birthdays of the week, I shouldn't leave Macklynn's unmentioned. He's 6 today and the events surrounding his birth were as unusual as any.
My pregnancy with this sixth child was most healthy. I like to think I was in my prime and spent the summer swimming, and in the end, only gaining 6 pounds. I helped out as much as anyone while midterm; one day we cut and did 3 F-250 Longbed loads of wood. What I didn't realize is that my Jobst stockings had pinched behind my knee and quickly caused a huge clot to form in my inner thigh. It was extra painful; all thrombophlebitis is, a unique burning sensation. However, it normally isn't dangerous UNTIL it grows so large that it reaches the groin connecting to the deep vein. The entire vein was solid for a good 7 inches. That's when I got to meet with my first specialist. He put it this way: that he knew I had several other children and if I didn't want to be hospitalized, I would get 2 shots of blood thinners in my sides every day. Back then, I was only afraid of 3 things and that was one of them. Thinking I obviously had to deal with it, it was a go but then, I found out "I" would be the administrator. Needless to say, the fear of needles is conquered now.
Not used to being medicated for anything, much less with child, I was concerned for the baby until delivery, an induction of course (to insure the body has processed all thinners out). God blessed us with a big 10 lb 3 oz boy who looked more like a man than a baby. If he had lasted another week as he otherwise would've, he might've matched me at 10 lb 11 oz, my collarbone broken just to make it to this side of the world. Thrilled I was, hardly missing the rest when they reentered the room announcing that Daddy had taken them to the tattoo parlor down the road to add him to the Winnie the Pooh balloons that he is quite renowned for now.
We've always "roomed in" with our babies, so when Macklynn was gone for longer than I expected, I got antsy that his care wasn't timely, only to be met by a Pediatric Cardiologist. X-rays in hand, he said a young nurse had noticed that his heartbeat was faint. He had a reassuring look on his face, though. You see Macklynn's heart is flipped over backwards, almost sitting to the right side of his chest. It's called Dextrocardia. However, he is "plumbed" correctly, else he would've required immediate open heart surgery and if it'd gone undetected, dead in 3 days. This condition, because it doesn't have accompanying "mirrored" organs is considered not just rare, but "very rare". The numbers are only in the hundreds and most of those don't find out they have the condition until they're being checked for age related heart disease late in life.
My little guy has escaped, not only that, but this time last year, he developed what most parents would fear as much as cancer. Mike had taken him and Michael in the truck to Daytona for the Bud Shootout. Their birthday trip was cut short short when after being on the beach, Macklynn suddenly lost his ability to walk. Not understanding the severity, half thinking it was dehydration from vomiting. Mike drove STRAIGHT home to North Carolina. With no delay, we took him on to Baptist Children's Hospital where an ER doctor recognized the condition (that only arises once or so a year there). A neurologist rushed in, from bed. A spinal tap was required that proved he had meningitis AND the MRI showed the "white spots" on his brain that revealed encephalitis, too. It's called Transverse Myelitis. He didn't "catch it"; his body had turned against its own system, possibly in response to a simple cold 2 weeks prior, sending white blood cells into his spinal cord and the lining of his brain causing them to swell and paralyze him. They warned us that the progression wouldn't stop for 5 more days, even with the gargantuan doses of steroids they planned to start him on ...and that he would likely "lose" his arms also. 2 afternoons later, when he was eating a popsicle, his hand fell with it to his bare chest .... and he couldn't lift it. For 36 hours, he was a quadriplegic, but then the outstanding medical care and the cries to God payed off - he showed improvement. Regardless, they said his condition made it so that he would have to relearn to walk and that he would be admitted into an "in house" rehabilitation hospital for 4 to 6 months, even then only 50% of people regain complete physical and mental function.
His headaches, blood tests, glucose pricks, God- awful tasting medicine, and worst, the catheterizations, continued. So that they could closely monitor his condition, he wasn't medicated for pain. He suffered. So as he regains some feeling, how do you explain as you hold down the writhing arms of your 4 year old as they put the catheter into his burning, painful system that it's only helping him pee?! He pleaded and begged, BROKEN, that we would stop them from doing it! He ceased giving eye contact or acknowledgement to anyone with a lab coat on. My face is wet now from the remembrance. I surely hope that none who read this will ever hold this kind of memory. When a malfunction of a machine called for an unnecessary emptying of his bladder and Mike and I turned on each other; I locked myself in the bathroom, melted to the floor, and told God with clinched teeth that it was finally too much for me. My God heard me ... and my Macklynn, when lifted out of bed the next day, felt his feet. And then that child of mine WALKED under his own power right out of that hospital 9 days after it all began. But not before the hospital staff who had heard of our 4 b-days we had been separated for that week (and even though the hospital was closed to all visiting children because of a flu scare), they opened a conference room, "snuck" in the whole family, gave them presents, and had personally gotten a cake and decorations. Good people are blooming in cracks all around us.
He continued high doses of steroids for a month at home and by the grace of the Almighty, has NO lingering effects. I'm beginning to think this child has lived to tell so much because he might just be meant for more. I take seriously the training of a mighty man of God and am reevaluating myself on this as I write. So, when I say I was delighted to get the call that all my fellas were at that race this past weekend, I mean that my heart ached in sheer thankfulness and humility.
My pregnancy with this sixth child was most healthy. I like to think I was in my prime and spent the summer swimming, and in the end, only gaining 6 pounds. I helped out as much as anyone while midterm; one day we cut and did 3 F-250 Longbed loads of wood. What I didn't realize is that my Jobst stockings had pinched behind my knee and quickly caused a huge clot to form in my inner thigh. It was extra painful; all thrombophlebitis is, a unique burning sensation. However, it normally isn't dangerous UNTIL it grows so large that it reaches the groin connecting to the deep vein. The entire vein was solid for a good 7 inches. That's when I got to meet with my first specialist. He put it this way: that he knew I had several other children and if I didn't want to be hospitalized, I would get 2 shots of blood thinners in my sides every day. Back then, I was only afraid of 3 things and that was one of them. Thinking I obviously had to deal with it, it was a go but then, I found out "I" would be the administrator. Needless to say, the fear of needles is conquered now.
Not used to being medicated for anything, much less with child, I was concerned for the baby until delivery, an induction of course (to insure the body has processed all thinners out). God blessed us with a big 10 lb 3 oz boy who looked more like a man than a baby. If he had lasted another week as he otherwise would've, he might've matched me at 10 lb 11 oz, my collarbone broken just to make it to this side of the world. Thrilled I was, hardly missing the rest when they reentered the room announcing that Daddy had taken them to the tattoo parlor down the road to add him to the Winnie the Pooh balloons that he is quite renowned for now.
We've always "roomed in" with our babies, so when Macklynn was gone for longer than I expected, I got antsy that his care wasn't timely, only to be met by a Pediatric Cardiologist. X-rays in hand, he said a young nurse had noticed that his heartbeat was faint. He had a reassuring look on his face, though. You see Macklynn's heart is flipped over backwards, almost sitting to the right side of his chest. It's called Dextrocardia. However, he is "plumbed" correctly, else he would've required immediate open heart surgery and if it'd gone undetected, dead in 3 days. This condition, because it doesn't have accompanying "mirrored" organs is considered not just rare, but "very rare". The numbers are only in the hundreds and most of those don't find out they have the condition until they're being checked for age related heart disease late in life.
My little guy has escaped, not only that, but this time last year, he developed what most parents would fear as much as cancer. Mike had taken him and Michael in the truck to Daytona for the Bud Shootout. Their birthday trip was cut short short when after being on the beach, Macklynn suddenly lost his ability to walk. Not understanding the severity, half thinking it was dehydration from vomiting. Mike drove STRAIGHT home to North Carolina. With no delay, we took him on to Baptist Children's Hospital where an ER doctor recognized the condition (that only arises once or so a year there). A neurologist rushed in, from bed. A spinal tap was required that proved he had meningitis AND the MRI showed the "white spots" on his brain that revealed encephalitis, too. It's called Transverse Myelitis. He didn't "catch it"; his body had turned against its own system, possibly in response to a simple cold 2 weeks prior, sending white blood cells into his spinal cord and the lining of his brain causing them to swell and paralyze him. They warned us that the progression wouldn't stop for 5 more days, even with the gargantuan doses of steroids they planned to start him on ...and that he would likely "lose" his arms also. 2 afternoons later, when he was eating a popsicle, his hand fell with it to his bare chest .... and he couldn't lift it. For 36 hours, he was a quadriplegic, but then the outstanding medical care and the cries to God payed off - he showed improvement. Regardless, they said his condition made it so that he would have to relearn to walk and that he would be admitted into an "in house" rehabilitation hospital for 4 to 6 months, even then only 50% of people regain complete physical and mental function.
His headaches, blood tests, glucose pricks, God- awful tasting medicine, and worst, the catheterizations, continued. So that they could closely monitor his condition, he wasn't medicated for pain. He suffered. So as he regains some feeling, how do you explain as you hold down the writhing arms of your 4 year old as they put the catheter into his burning, painful system that it's only helping him pee?! He pleaded and begged, BROKEN, that we would stop them from doing it! He ceased giving eye contact or acknowledgement to anyone with a lab coat on. My face is wet now from the remembrance. I surely hope that none who read this will ever hold this kind of memory. When a malfunction of a machine called for an unnecessary emptying of his bladder and Mike and I turned on each other; I locked myself in the bathroom, melted to the floor, and told God with clinched teeth that it was finally too much for me. My God heard me ... and my Macklynn, when lifted out of bed the next day, felt his feet. And then that child of mine WALKED under his own power right out of that hospital 9 days after it all began. But not before the hospital staff who had heard of our 4 b-days we had been separated for that week (and even though the hospital was closed to all visiting children because of a flu scare), they opened a conference room, "snuck" in the whole family, gave them presents, and had personally gotten a cake and decorations. Good people are blooming in cracks all around us.
He continued high doses of steroids for a month at home and by the grace of the Almighty, has NO lingering effects. I'm beginning to think this child has lived to tell so much because he might just be meant for more. I take seriously the training of a mighty man of God and am reevaluating myself on this as I write. So, when I say I was delighted to get the call that all my fellas were at that race this past weekend, I mean that my heart ached in sheer thankfulness and humility.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Michael, 13 yesterday
He was conceived on the first "date" Mike and I had (in our new Suburban) 3 months after I gave birth by c section to McKala, which made him a huge surprise. I don't remember much about the physical pregnancy. I love the whole spectrum of being pregnant, but already having an infant blurs much of my memory. What I remember is the timing. Something life altering had been happening in Mike's world and had come to such a head that, although I had seen him flounder in a wide range of coping, I knew this time he was deathly serious about taking his own life. He left with gun in hand because he couldn't face what was in front of him. After he was gone, I recall being on my knees in front of our bedroom window in a voice that only comes a few times in a lifetime.....He came back later with a pregnancy test in hand. We had talked some about the possibility but had thought it was a complication of the section. The positive was just enough to pull him back to the optimism of reality. Little did he know that after 3 daughters, it would be his first son.
His birth went like clockwork, no meds, vaginal delivery. In the delivery room, Mike watched Earnhardt finally win the Daytona 500 as Michael was being born. I could've strangled him because he later said he assumed that I was a "pro" by then. Michael, Jr. was really blue from the cord and worried Mike more than all the other babies. He was 8 1/2 + lbs of healthy, blonde boy who was 4 days shy of being an Irish twin AND the first of our children born in North Carolina.
His birth went like clockwork, no meds, vaginal delivery. In the delivery room, Mike watched Earnhardt finally win the Daytona 500 as Michael was being born. I could've strangled him because he later said he assumed that I was a "pro" by then. Michael, Jr. was really blue from the cord and worried Mike more than all the other babies. He was 8 1/2 + lbs of healthy, blonde boy who was 4 days shy of being an Irish twin AND the first of our children born in North Carolina.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Madalynn
Madalynn is 3 today, our 7th (thus her Daddy found the German prefix, Zepto, for her middle name) and last natural born child. He had the "clip" done last spring to resolve every family member's and doctor's fears of how dangerous my pregnancies were getting. I was a vbac (had a section), over 35 yo with a clotting disorder which meant automatic high risk doctor and induction. The fact I had 6 deliveries also put me at higher risk they said, but I question that.
The varicous veins appeared during my 2nd pregnancy, but only caused a little discomfort sometimes. It had never occurred to me to check into genetics on the subject, but then I started to take into account the summertime spent at my Granny's. The hot, Georgia sun and her love to be outside gave way to shedding the pants for shorts. Her legs were covered in knots and snakelike veins and she only had one baby, but smoked to her detriment. I would whence, just as people do at me, because it looked dreadfully painful and ugly.
Thrombophebitis set into each pregnancy thereafter, starting early on because the blood almost doubles in a childbearing body and with valves that don't pump correctly to start with, it's a no win. The worst bout was with Macklynn and I had high hopes that it was a fluke. I exercised, moved around, wore the $150 custom stockings, gained little weight, stayed hydrated ... but it got me anyway. My entire inner calf was affected and it was growing no matter what I did and this meant 3 things: 3 blood thinner injections daily, bed rest, and the dreaded induction when it came time. One certainly can't go giving birth with thin blood.
Seems whiny now that I cried and cried when I finally presented myself to the doctor. I just think of pregnancy as the most magnificent time of life and a sick one, dependent on everyone for help, isn't my style.
The rest of the time before her birth was pretty uneventful, no other physical problems. Induction was planned. That whole process is funny to me, like ordering up a baby or something. Mike and I drove to Wake Forest alone knowing for the first time none of the children would attend. Macklynn had come in 1 hr 45 min start to finish, so I thought I'd forgo the pain meds again. Problem was Madalynn wasn't ready yet to show her pretty, little face to the world ... no progress, no progress, more pitocin, more pitocin. They maxxed it out (and then, of course, there was talk of "taking" her). NOT ONE person can compare pain they have had to that unnatural, unforgiving, incessant contraction unless he/she has had a body part severed unmedicated. I took it for another hour and threw all my "beautiful power" comments out the window and threatened the nurses if they didn't count down the time it'd take for the anesthesiologist to get there, I'd get up and find him. I've called a lot of women wusses for taking the easy route but the relief that day was better than any high could compare. Almost 11 hours total, more time than my first delivery, it took. Perfection is always worth waiting on, though.
The varicous veins appeared during my 2nd pregnancy, but only caused a little discomfort sometimes. It had never occurred to me to check into genetics on the subject, but then I started to take into account the summertime spent at my Granny's. The hot, Georgia sun and her love to be outside gave way to shedding the pants for shorts. Her legs were covered in knots and snakelike veins and she only had one baby, but smoked to her detriment. I would whence, just as people do at me, because it looked dreadfully painful and ugly.
Thrombophebitis set into each pregnancy thereafter, starting early on because the blood almost doubles in a childbearing body and with valves that don't pump correctly to start with, it's a no win. The worst bout was with Macklynn and I had high hopes that it was a fluke. I exercised, moved around, wore the $150 custom stockings, gained little weight, stayed hydrated ... but it got me anyway. My entire inner calf was affected and it was growing no matter what I did and this meant 3 things: 3 blood thinner injections daily, bed rest, and the dreaded induction when it came time. One certainly can't go giving birth with thin blood.
Seems whiny now that I cried and cried when I finally presented myself to the doctor. I just think of pregnancy as the most magnificent time of life and a sick one, dependent on everyone for help, isn't my style.
The rest of the time before her birth was pretty uneventful, no other physical problems. Induction was planned. That whole process is funny to me, like ordering up a baby or something. Mike and I drove to Wake Forest alone knowing for the first time none of the children would attend. Macklynn had come in 1 hr 45 min start to finish, so I thought I'd forgo the pain meds again. Problem was Madalynn wasn't ready yet to show her pretty, little face to the world ... no progress, no progress, more pitocin, more pitocin. They maxxed it out (and then, of course, there was talk of "taking" her). NOT ONE person can compare pain they have had to that unnatural, unforgiving, incessant contraction unless he/she has had a body part severed unmedicated. I took it for another hour and threw all my "beautiful power" comments out the window and threatened the nurses if they didn't count down the time it'd take for the anesthesiologist to get there, I'd get up and find him. I've called a lot of women wusses for taking the easy route but the relief that day was better than any high could compare. Almost 11 hours total, more time than my first delivery, it took. Perfection is always worth waiting on, though.
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