Unweaned….really February 25, 2008

When I was pregnant with Selah, first munchkin of our tribe, I remember an old friend of my mother’s visiting for the summer.  Now this woman is one of the most outspoken, opinionated bold mommas you could ever happen upon.  Basically an older, slightly crunchier version of me.  At the time I was floating in the pool, gorgeous prego belly exposed to the sun.  Complete bliss.  She was interrogating me on my plans for how I would parent.  Would I have a home-birth, would I go back to work… and the inevitable… would I breastfeed? 

For me there was no question.  There’s no doubt that it’s the best thing for my baby.  I personally couldn’t imagine messing with bottles in the middle of the night when I can just break out the boob.  The idea of ‘running out’ of formula sounded like a pain in the butt.  No way, I’m way too lazy for that. Not to mention the fact that I’m seriously too  cheap to pay for formula when breast-milk is free.  I’m not judging anyone who chose differently.  For me it was never even a question. 

So, clearly the answer was an immediate yes.  Then the next question was “How long will you breastfeed?”  That one hadn’t really come to mind yet.  I thought about it for a second.  I have vague memories of this woman being the epitome of mother earth mixed with the whole “hear me roar” thing.  Super power mom.  I know she nursed her babies longer than I probably would.  So I asked how long she did.  She had 6 children (I think that’s right) but she said that the one she nursed longest she had to wean eventually because the dentist said his teeth were getting cavities.  I looked at her in shock…

Me: Well how old was he?

 Supermom: I think he was in first grade.

Me:  Are you kidding me? (insert dumbfounded look of shock)

Supermom: Well, How long do YOU think you should breastfeed? ( justifiably defensive at my rudeness)

Me: Well I hope I stop before her teeth rot out! (paddling off to the deep end with brain reeling)

Now I think of this exchange often.  First of all, I’m still embarrassed at my rudeness.   (K and L, please don’t stop reading, I love your mom!)  Sometimes I think I should carry around a shoehorn for how often I put my foot in my mouth.  Yes, it was a bit extreme but  was it really that bad to have extended breastfeeding?

I’m ashamed to admit that I nursed Selah to 9 months and then weaned out of laziness.  Not saying that  9 months is ‘too short’.  I just know in my heart that it was for me that I weaned her.  Even at 9 months I would often have unexpected leakage issues.  I was working part time and forced to pump in the car.  It was embarrassing.  One night a single guy at church pointed at my shirt and said “Um,  you’re ahhh, ummm..”.  When I looked down and saw the left side of my shirt drenched I knew then and there that I was done with it.  Selah was an independent baby and didn’t seem to care.  She’s not scared, although I wonder if the finger sucking issue is connected.  I’m not getting down on myself.  I just know that now I would do it differently.  I have to be honest and say that my judgement on Supermom caused me to overreact and fear being seen as an ‘over exuberant’ nurser. I didn’t understand it. 

  With Jacob we went to 15 months, mainly because of his huge list of food allergies.  It was quite convenient to always have something for him, ummm… ‘on hand’, so to speak.   So when, at 8 months, I found out Lucas was on the way I kept it up as long as I could.  At six months into my pregnancy the cramps I was having during breastfeeding started to worry my OB (having had both Selah and Jake on the early side, with preterm issues).  So we weaned and he never looked back.  Ironic is the hindsight.  Maybe if I had kept up the breastfeeding I wouldn’t have been pregnant for 42 weeks that time! Who knew…

So here I am.  Lucas.  Last month we got down to nursing once every couple of days.  I got irritated with the inconsistency, and the fact that my nips were starting to be tender.  I decided he was done.  And he didn’t protest much either.  I was a bit shocked that we went all the way to 18 months without even thinking about it being any different.  I thought about Supermom.   I could see it.  Just keep going and don’t worry about it.  Somehow doesn’t seem like a big deal now. 

Well, that was last month.  We went about 4 weeks without nursing and suddenly I’m faced with the fact that my child actually has become UNweaned.  Last week he got a cold and out of the blue he was begging to nurse.  No big deal.  It was probably soothing.  I know my body will still make milk for months.  So, nurse we did.  And it really isn’t a big deal. 

He’s back to nursing just in the morning when he wakes up.  I never offer to, but he’s asking every morning.  To be honest, I just don’t see the point in denying it.  I look at Selah who is in kindergarten, and Jacob at three.  Nope, I love me some Supermom but I still don’t think I can do that.  On the other hand, what’s the big deal? 

I think the only issue I would have is if breastfeeding is for your identity.  Trying to prove something.  Or some neediness on the part of Mom.  I don’t think that was why Supermom did it.  I think it just kinda worked for her and wasn’t a big deal. 

On the other hand, I have seen a mom make it a big deal.  Following her 4 year old around at the park offering to nurse at every turn ‘just in case she wanted it’.  I mean, if the child still feels a need for it, let them ask.  If mom feels a need for it….where does that put you?  Do you need that to be important? Is it your soapbox, your identity?   That kinda doesn’t sit so well with me…

As it stands, my unexpectedly un-weaned 19 month old is welcome to keep nursing for now.  With homeschooling, working from home and general mom and wife duties, he may just see it as his best opportunity for some peace with mom. Why would I deny that?  And I have to say, it’s the only time I get a glimpse of him as a baby anymore, rather than the toddler in constant motion.  So nurse we will. Till….whenever….

I think Supermom would be proud. 

The Next Step in Futility February 22, 2008

For anyone who got a laugh and a tear out of my last post on Jacob, we’re onto the next step.  After all of that, the barium enema and xrays showed nothing wrong.  It’s confusing how they can see that as a good thing.  Maybe because they aren’t the ones sitting several times a day holding him while he cried out in pain, or wiping him when his rear end is bleeding.  I don’t really see anything good about all of this happening to a three year old, myself.  Jake has had blood in his stools since October. It has gone from once every 10 days to now consistently twice a day (Every time he poops). He’s in a lot of pain because of it, and has already been tested for allergies, Celiac Disease, Iritable Bowel Syndrome, Crohn’s Disease, internal hemorrhoids, hernias…  Often, when he’s hurting the most he asks, ever so sweetly through the tears, for us to take him to the hospital so they can make it better.   It’s agonizing.

We took the next step yesterday and had an appointment with a pediatric gastrointestinal specialist.  Jacob and I left at 6:45am to be there by 7:30, but I have to say it was worth it to be able to go without the other two munchkins to spar with. The kids are up by 6am every morning anyway.  Huh, and people think homeschoolers get to sleep in all of the time…

 Being one of the first appointments of the morning made the wait pretty quick.  And Dr H was all happy and chipper.  He was clearly good with children.  He had the most atrocious zoo tie on.  Jacob adored it and now wants me to make him a tie to go with his play doctor dress-up set. Dr H. asked all of his questions and seemed pretty unconcerned.  He examined Jake and ordered a colonoscopy.  Ugh…the things you hear adults saying about colonoscopies, and they’ll be doing it to this little bitty guy. 

 He kept mentioning that it was most likely just a polyp (sp?), but then said that wouldn’t cause the constant pain (and screaming, trauma, anguish…).  I highly doubt that is it.  But I have no idea what it could be. For some reason the suggestion of it kept annoying me.  Was he listening?  Did he understand how much pain my son is in at night?  Maybe I’ll send him a video of it…take pictures of the blood for proof that it’s more than ‘just a little streak here and there’….. Too much?  Yeah, I guess that’s a little dramatic of me.  It was just a bit disheartening when he wrote out the order for the colonoscopy and said to come back in three months.  Three months?  and in the meantime, what do you suggest?  You’re kidding, right?
Anyway, here’s to hoping that he’s right.  That it’s a little thing, like a polyp,  that can be fixed easily while the poor guy is under anesthesia already with scopes up his A…  Just whatever it takes for it to be done, and not three months from now.

Rice Milk February 21, 2008

It is so easy to make Rice Milk, yet it’s ridiculously expensive to buy.  Because we avoid  dairy in our house and soy has some side effects that aren’t the safest, I’ve been making my own rice milk.  Here’s how I do it.

RICE MILK- one quart

• 1 c. cooked brown rice (still hot is best)
• 4 c. warm water
• pinch of salt
• 1/2 t canolla or coconut oil
• 1 t. vanilla
• sweetener ( I use agave nectar or honey)

I start with the  rice and just enough water to cover it in the blender.  It needs to blend for quite awhile to get it as pureed as possible, and as it thickens I will add water a few splashes as a time.  Let it stand for 5 minutes so that the silt and left over pieces can settle at the bottom before straining.  I’m sure it’s done better through cheesecloth, but I use a small strainer because that’s what I have.  I strain it into my pitcher, then reprocess the left over ’silt’ a bit with a little more watter.  Add as much water as you would like to get the consistency you like.  One cup of rice makes one quart the way I like it

Chocolate Rice Milk add 1 tbs. powdered cocoa and make sure you use sweetener.  I add it half way through the blender time.  Yummm….makes a special treat once in awhile.

 Banana Rice Milk  add 1/2 a banana and no sweetener.

*************************

I keep it in a jug identical to this, but from Walmart for $4.98.  I couldn’t find it on their website, but this one from Target costs three times as much. Take a look and go get it from Walmart.

http://www.target.com/Chiller-Glass-Lid-64-oz/dp/B000HDKI52/ref=sc_ri_1/601-7422909-5238543

I buy organic short grain rice in a 25 pound bag for $19.99.  It lasts us about 6 months.  At only $.80 a pound, I can make rice milk for about $.20  per 1/2 gallon.  So,  if Rice milk costs about $8 per gallon, I make about $7.50 in the 20 minutes worth of work it takes (not including the stand time).  I usually just make it from left over rice after a meal so I’m not making more dishes, wasting energy and all that jazz… 

Go try it and come back to tell me what you think!

EDITED TO ADD: Below there is a comment from the owner of this blog.  I haven’t checked it out yet but thought it looks interesting.  While I’m not a gung-ho anti-dairyist..ahem… There is some truth to milk not being the healthiest for human consumption.  Check it out for yourself.

http://themilkblog.blogspot.com

When Patience Wears Thin February 20, 2008

It’s amazing how this perfect little being comes into your life.  Ten finger. Ten toes.  Eyes that steal your heart and lips that breath the most alluring sweetness. They’re enchanting.  We live for them.  Yet they try every bit of patience we have within us.

Sometimes it’s direct defiance.  In the past it’s been easy to say that Selah and Jacob are inherently good on their own.  It’s humbling when people assume that our parenting has formed these perfect little people.  Well, they’re still young to be sure.  Plenty of time to shock us.  And, they just are well behaved for the most part.  Yet still.  They have their ways of testing the limits.

 At 19 months, Lucas pushes me more than Selah or Jacob ever have.  He’s the one who’s going to test all of my parenting.  Now, I’ve never read any books on how to ‘deal with a strong willed child’.  I don’t really feel like it’s prudent to label my child as such.  Not that I judge anyone else for it.  I just don’t like defining anyone with such few words.  Are we not all, as individuals, much more complex?  Trust me, I think about it. I just try to avoid it.

I have my own way of discipline. No books really.  My instinct has always told me to diffuse the anger. To hold both of the child’s hands gently yet firmly to calm them.  To make and hold eye contact, and using a quiet low voice, say things like “This is not ok.  Acting like this is not appropriate because….Etc.  It is my job to teach you to be respectful. I cannot let you act like this. If you want to tell me something then be calm and talk in a normal voice.”  Now I tend to just keep talking in a soothing voice until the child calms.  I’ll often even ‘help them breath’ by telling them to copy me and breathing deeply while maintaining eye contact.  It seems to work.  I will notsay things like, “It’s ok. Poor baby…”  I do NOT offer bribes.  I do make it clear that if they don’t choose to calm they will have to have some time in bed or time out to calm on their own.  With most children it works wonders as they begin to listen and calm down.   And yet what they are hearing is not affirming their actions, and it’s not escalating into a full blown power struggle.

 Last Tuesday I’m convinced that I heard no less than 3 hours total of intermittent screaming of “No! No! No!”.  Sometimes I wonder how he even breaths!  Lucas gets completely hysterical, major meltdown. Eyes bulging out and veins popping in his little head. His cheeks flushed, his tiny fists clenched while snot and tears mingle together to cover every bit of his face turning him into a child I’m not quite sure I know.    And YES, my 19 month old was being defiant.  He was screaming no because he was not getting what he wanted. Namely, to open the oven, the knife drawer and the refrigerator.  He was not injured, hungry or in a dirty diaper.  He was PISSED.  

After several minutes or talking to him, he went to the crib to be alone.  Several times.   We went around in circles in this disastrous waltz of defiance. It burned up all my reserves or patience and by the end of the day I was ready to stick my head in the oven.  When time came to buckle them all in to the car, I breathed a sigh of relief.  Only 5 minutes and Travis would be in the car.  I wouldn’t be so out numbered.  And can you believe how brilliant a toddler can be?  I had no more than backed the car out of the drive way to go down the hill and he starts squealing “Popi! Choo Choo!”  Now, if that child is smart enough to know that the only reason we EVER turn that way out of the driveway is to go pick up his father… certainly he understands enough when I’m talking to him.

Of course, everything was joy and roses once Popi was in the car.  I wonder if he believes me when I say we had a tough day because some alter-egos in the form of angels take over their bodies when we get him in the evening.  I can’t blame him for wondering what what I mean by a “tough day”.   This night was no exception. 

So you can imagine why I felt the slightest bit justified the next morning when Popi made the acquaintance of ‘Lucas the Terrible’ over breakfast, and was compelled to put him in his  crib after a long bout of ‘No’s’.  After about 5 minutes in the crib the screaming from the bedroom stopped, so we headed in for the ‘follow up’ to talk to him.  Travis went in first and said “Can I hold you now?”.  That little stinker yelled “no!” and ran to the other side of the crib where I stood.  So, I offered my arms and got the same response.  Then he actually ran to the back of the crib against the wall.  Literally he turned his back to us, trying to peek out of the corner of his eye to see what our response would be.  I’m not sure what he was imagining.   We simply said.  “Lucas, it’s your choice to have a bad attitude, but that means you’re choosing to stay alone.” And there we left him for a few more minutes… and that’s how that day went, too.

So now afew days later,  the two step with the ’tude has slowed to a waltz.  I haven’t seen “The Terrible” rear it’s head in a few days.  It’s interesting how they can all be so different, yet they all know how to find that last bit of patience you have and stomp all over it…best way to teach us to have more, right?

The Most Important Meal… February 11, 2008

I’ve gotta say, I just hate it when they call it that.  Sure it is, but what mom really has time for breakfast?  And what mom doesn’t struggle with how to get a healthier one for her kids that doesn’t have the morning wrecked or her waking up at the butt-crack…you know.

I’ve got my kids used to the idea that the main purpose for food is that it is nourishment.  Fuel for their bodies to keep them going, and tasting great is a lovely side effect.  They know better than to beg for something else for breakfast, because they get what they get.  I do often give them an option between two things, but it’s off of a pretty short list.  A list that is simple, healthy and easy for me to maintain.

So, my breakfast list is mostly like this

• Homemade Granola
• Homemade grapenuts
• Frozen Spelt Waffles ( I make 40 at a time and freeze them)
• Some kind of bar I’ve got made up (right now they are Carrot Honey Squares)
• A boiled egg and a piece of toast
• Oatmeal
• On a rare occasion, scrambled eggs with spinach or something

Now, you’ll notice that I don’t ‘cook’ breakfast.  Mornings can get pretty harried around here.  I think most households are that way. My kids wake begging for their breakfast and the world could fall off it’s axis if they have to wait for me to cook oatmeal or scramble eggs. On the occasions where I sense an unexpected undercurrent of patience I play with fire… or the stove, I guess. 

We do buy cereal once in a while.  And when I do it’s a big stock up.  We pretty much only buy Cheerios and Raisin Bran.  I will wait until they are buy-one-get-one-free and even then only buy if I have coupons for $1 off or something, bringing the cost down to about what it would cast me to make my cereals.  I’ve been known to walk out with eight boxes of cereal for $5.  That was a happy day.

Over the next few days I’m going to post the recipes for my breakfast stuffs. They do take some time.  I think I took 3 hours the other day to make enough to last for 3-4 weeks.  But not too bad of a time investment in the long run, if you consider what a pain it would be to spend 30 minutes every morning making something. Or settling for feeding them Pop Tarts… don’t they wish!

I Can’t Cook Once A Month February 11, 2008

There are women out there, amazingly organized women, who have this astonishing capability to cook meals for the whole month in one day.  I know it’s possible, don’t be shocked.  I’ve tried it when I had one child who was a mere wide eyed infant.  The results were amazing and I loved it.  The results with homeschooling, working from home and three small children would be quite a different story.  Not something I feel like adding to my plate, so full already.

Like everything else, I find my middle ground. Once a month doesn’t work, but I can do a little extra every week.   I allow for a slow buildup over time by setting aside a few hours a week to work on one or two ‘convenient  ingredients’ or meal type things to have in my freezer.  For instance, two weeks ago I cooked three pounds of dry black beans in my crockpot all day.  Easy and took hardly any effort.  At the end of the day, I divided the beans into 2 cup portions in quart sized freezer bags and labeled them.  I had enough for dinner that night, lunch the next day and seven bags. 

 Why not use canned beans, you say?  Well, I’m cheap and somewhat picky.  Canned beans have been cooked twice, once to cook and again to process in the can.  Much more nutrition is lost.  Canned beans are also about $.89 a can, or you can get store brand on sale sometimes for as little as $50.  One can, once drained, is about a cup (I think).  So I have 17 cups.  17 times $.89 is $15.13.  Well, my beans are organic from the Dekalb Farmer’s Market and cost $1.39 a pound.  I cooked three pounds.  $4.17.  Thus for the time it took me to throw some beans in water, turn on the crock pot,  and divide them into bags several hours later, I ‘made’ $10.96.  That’s my ‘mom wage’.

My ‘Mom Wage’ is something I try to keep in mind when I’m working on saving money. A reminder that what I do to is VALUABLE and that I can ‘earn’ more money by being cheap as….  well, more than I would otherwise.  I try to see how high I can get it. It’s a fun challenge but typically it’s around $20-30 an hour.  I spent less than half an hour total fiddling with the beans.  Pretty good wage for the time I invested, right?

So, every week I’m going to post my ‘Mom Wage’ of the week.  Just something I did to EARN a savings.  Keep an eye out for it. See it in the list of categories?  Click there sometime. I hope it can inspire.  Feel free to comment and add your ideas, too!

I’ll also be periodically (translate-when I get a chance to breath)  adding recipes that I find simple and helpful.  I make so much from scratch.  It sound so overwhelming until you really try it.  Like making the beans. It was simple.  basically foolproof, unless you have a tendency to knock crockpots off the counter. I cna’t really help you out with that one.  Things like cream soups to use in recipes.  What recipe DOESN’T use cream of something?  Did you know it only takes a few minutes to make it yourself for much, MUCH less? You don’t have to be some crazy supermom or Martha Stewart.  I’ll tell you how.  But not tonight.  Tonight I am going to be in bed at a reasonable time.   I promise!

Urine in Contacts = Not A Good Substitute for Saline January 26, 2008

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

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

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

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

MY BRAVE ONE

Little House … in the Ghetto September 6, 2007

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

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