Miscellaneous From Missy

Sunny Stream Of Consciousness

2009-11-12T13:35:00.005-06:00

1. I usually ignore all of the quizzes on Facebook, but my sister sent one called "What Is Your Native American Indian Name?" Mine turns out to be "Sunny Stream - You are content and happy. Like a leaf that floats on the water, going wherever it may take you." I like the sound of that!

2. Jeremy and I were on the phone with my mom around midnight last night, and apparently I fell asleep. Today, Jeremy informed me that in my sleep, I told my mom she could have some apples if she wanted. After more questioning, I told her that she could not have any grapes because we're all out. At least I was accurate in my sleep: we ate the last of the grapes for supper yesterday.

3. I walked silently into the kitchen a while ago and found Liberty standing in front of the open fridge, deciding. I made a small noise with my throat, and in one smooth motion, she slammed the door shut and whirled to face me, an innocent smile decorated her features. "Hi, Mommy. It's nice to meet you," she politely said. Then she shook my hand and left the kitchen.

4. My daughters are growing up, but that was not in our original contract. I pulled it out this afternoon and examined it with my magnifying glass. It explicitly states that any children born to Missy and Jeremy are to start out at six months of age and/or able to feed themselves and sleep through the night, and to perpetually use cute baby-ized English and thought processes. They are not to grow more than two feet tall or be able to open doors, think for themselves, or tell me "Nussin'" when I ask what they've just been doing.

5. I just returned from Liberty's room where she has tied her new helium balloon from the dollar store to a wooden spoon to weight it down and then planted it on the floor of her carpeted bedroom. What a great idea! Except that she also watered it so it would grow.

Backwards Potpourri

2009-11-04T11:50:00.003-06:00

Inhale deeply. Savor the aromas.

That's right, I just baked chocolate chip cookies. Ah, the heavenly smell.

Before that I gave the girls a bath and shampooed their hair. Nothing smells as wonderful as freshly washed baby hair. Unless it's a just-baked chocolate chip cookie.

Before that I made egg salad sandwiches for lunch (thus creating the need for baths). Mmm, the aroma of boiled eggs, still slightly warm, mixed with mayo and mustard and piled onto freshly toasted bread makes my mouth water every time. Nothing smells as wonderful as warm egg salad sandwiches. Unless it's freshly washed baby hair. Or just-baked chocolate chip cookies.

Before that I opened the patio door and crisp fall air rushed into the room. Crunched leaves, distant wood fire, cold. They all combine to make a uniquely FALL smell. Nothing smells as wonderful as Fall. Unless it's a warm egg salad sandwich, or freshly washed baby hair, or just-baked chocolate chip cookies. (Or Spring!)

Before that I changed Mercy's stinky diaper.

Oops, you inhaled a little too deeply.

Finally, A Bright Idea

2009-11-02T21:05:00.003-06:00

I have been pondering Christmas presents for my beloved husband for several months now, about eleven to be exact, and it wasn't until thirty seconds ago that inspiration struck after I read this post by my friend Beth.

I know the PERFECT gift, and I CANNOT WAIT to give it to him!!!!

Let the Christmas count-down begin!

PS> It's top secret, so don't even think you'll get it out of me. You'll just have to be surprised like he will be.

PPS> Ooooh! I'm excited!

Happy Halloween!

2009-11-02T14:39:00.003-06:00

From two beautiful girls!

I Just Need A Few Minutes To Sit In The Corner And Cry

2009-10-28T09:54:00.002-06:00

I am sitting in front of the computer right now when I should not be. There is too much to do, and I'm not doing it. On the other hand, if I don't Stop. Right. Now. I will lose my mind, and that would not be pretty. So maybe I should be sitting at the computer right now.

I can justify with the best.

Today...

Where do I start?

Yesterday, Liberty woke up whining (I love her). We rushed out the door to get to Mercy's story time at the library on time. Mercy dirtied her diaper on the way there, and I discovered her diaper bag had run out of spares. I almost had a car accident on the way. I pulled out in front of another car and never even saw it. Thankfully, that driver slammed on her brakes and pounded her horn.

Liberty stopped to collect dead leaves on the way into the library and refused to leave them at the door. I pretended I couldn't smell Mercy's diaper throughout story time. Liberty scattered her leaves all over the story time room and refused to pick them up. When we returned home, Liberty brought more leaves into our house. She then proceeded to rip them into tiny pieces and bury them between the fibers of the carpet. The chunks that she chose not to bury were spread all over the living room floor.

EVERY WORD THAT CAME OUT OF LIBERTY'S MOUTH WAS SPOKEN AT FULL BLAST ALL. DAY. LONG.

When Jeremy came home from work, we rushed out the door to get to the drivers license place in time. They asked for twelve kinds of ID (no, I never exaggerate), and one of mine is packed and in storage. I could not get a license. My car is not completely paid for, so they had to fax a title request to the place in Iowa that holds it. I could not get license plates. Jeremy missed one sign question too many on his drivers test. He could not get a license. We drove to the drivers license place in my car, so his VIN number was not able to be checked. He could not get license plates. We wasted our evening. I wanted to cry.

But you know what? My awesome husband took me to Cracker Barrel instead of back home for supper. (Maybe he sensed we could all die if I was required to go back home and face the mess that used to be called our living room.) And you know something even more amazing? While we were eating, someone from the next table came over and told us how well behaved our children were and what a great job we were doing.

Her seeing-eye dog helped interpret the sign-language she used to communicate.

I collapsed into bed around nine pm, an unheard of bedtime for me, and Jeremy rubbed my back until I fell asleep.

I woke this morning with a renewed vibrancy. Ready to tackle the day with joy. I even had a chance to spend some time with God this morning before the girls woke up, and I just knew life would be grand.

Liberty smiled when she saw me. We ate breakfast together. Mercy slept in. Yes, a wonderful day.

We dropped the car off at the shop for an oil change and a strange-behavior diagnosis, and Mrs. Sue gave us a ride home. (Her husband owns the shop.) We chatted pleasantly, getting to know one another, but Liberty decided it wasn't enough. She waited for a break in the conversation, then she said, "Mrs. Sue, this is Mommy," with her hand she formally indicated me.

Mrs. Sue bemusedly asked me, "Is she introducing us?"

I've been through this before with Liberty, so I smiled and nodded.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mommy!" Mrs. Sue played along happily.

Liberty nodded solemnly, "Yes, and this is me," she pointed to herself. "I'm Yibby Gace."

Mrs. Sue shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Liberty Grace."

"And this is Meecee Dane. She's a sister."

Now, see? It's a good thing I took this computer break because I've made myself smile.

Maybe I shouldn't finish telling you about the rest of this morning that involved a video from the library getting stuck in the VCR and Liberty stringing the tape that used to reside inside the video all over the living room, Mercy having diarrhea in the bathtub and stopping up the drain, orange juice creating a sticky mess all over the kitchen floor, finding out that we are out of laundry detergent on a morning when Jeremy informs me that he is completely out of clean clothes for work and I have no car to pick up some more.

In fact, I won't tell you about it. I'm ready to get back into cleaning it all up. Send chocolate!

Wascally Wabbit

2009-10-26T13:15:00.004-06:00

Liberty ran today. She RAN! This is the first full-out, long-distance run that I have witnessed since that virus attacked her in early September. She RUNS!!!

This morning, she told me she was a bunny rabbit, and she hopped all over the living room and hallway for the better part of an hour. I turned my back to work on something, (will I never learn???) and I heard the slap of bare hands and feet on the kitchen linoleum. The seal on the refrigerator door made a sucking sound, and I turned to see my bunny rabbit perusing the merchandise.

"Are you hungry, Liberty Grace?" I inquired, using her full name as she now insists.

"I not Yibby Gace," she rather indignantly informed me, "I'm a bunny wabbit." She waited for my apology.

"Oh. Are you hungry, Bunny Rabbit?"

"Yes, I need some cawwots."

"How does a nice bunny rabbit talk?" I prompted feeling slightly silly.

"May I need some cawwots, PLEASE!"

Good enough. "Be careful not to spill them," I said as I handed the package to her.

"I'm going to spill them onto my plate," she reassured me. She chose a green plate to simulate grass and poured a multitude of carrots onto it. I eyed the pile, decided that Chomper would love to finish off the Bunny Rabbit's leftovers and said nothing.

The little hopster is now on her third plate of carrots.

That's a lot of roughage.

I'm just sayin'.

Reality Always Seems to Be Hanging Around

2009-10-23T15:00:00.003-06:00

Earlier this month, I put a pink streak and a blond streak into my naturally brown hair. I very much enjoy my new look; it's quite fun, and today, at the request of a couple long-distance friends, I decided to take a picture.

Three year old Liberty was in the midst of her afternoon siesta. One year old Mercy still kept me company, but she is the "easy" one -- quiet, compliant -- at least until she turns two. The timing seemed right, so my one year old and I headed into the bathroom together where I took this picture.

Note to self: Next time, clean toothpaste off of bathroom mirror before taking photos for the blogosphere.

Second note to self: Figure out how to work your camera settings.

Right about this time, I began to congratulate myself on a picture well-taken when I heard a splash from the toilet region.

So much for that "easy" label.

My Namesake

2009-10-21T10:32:00.004-06:00

This morning, Liberty woke Mercy before light arrived in the world, and they decided to join me in my big bed. I hoped they would fall asleep again so that I could get just a tad more rest. Instead, they shared the pillow next to mine and wrestled playfully. Occasionally, an arm or leg would jab my side or abruptly smack into my face, ensuring that my dozing was fitful at best.

I finally gave up dozing and rolled to my side facing them. Mercy's head had landed near Liberty's feet, and her feet rested on the pillow next to Liberty's face. Liberty threw her arms around Mercy's foot and began petting it. "Aw, my doggy," she cooed. She touched a ticklish spot, and Mercy giggled. "Such a nice doggy, right Mommy?"

I nodded barely. One of my eyes remained shut.

Liberty continued hugging Mercy's foot to her cheek and caressing it. Then she connected her gaze with mine and proclaimed, "I love my doggy so much, I'm going to name it Mommy."

I have a foot named after me.

Hmm.

Should I be proud, or humbled?

The Culprit

2009-10-21T06:56:00.003-06:00

Two little girls sit happily side by side on the living room floor. Two little heads, one light and one dark, bend over a plastic spoon and a Capri Sun straw, stirring something imaginary. Two little voices meld harmoniously together, discussing their project.

I open the shades on the patio doors, allowing morning sunshine to stream into the room. Suddenly, a noxious odor assaults my nostrils, and I wrinkle my nose unpleasantly. "Whew!" I say out loud, examining the two cute daughters sitting innocently before me. "Something stinks!"

One dark-haired little girl suppresses a giggle and takes off at a dead run, careening drunkenly through the living room.

Aha!

The Good Life

2009-10-20T15:09:00.002-06:00

Potatoes bake in the oven. Pork chops simmer in their gravy on the stove. The washer beats a down-home rhythm while the dryer sends forth a wonderful, warm, clean-laundry smell that mixes homogeneously with all the others. Willie Nelson lazily croons "Old Buttermilk Sky" in the background, and Liberty proudly shouts, "Mommy, yook! I'm upside down!"

From my living room vantage point -- sitting in the old, soft, rocking chair my mother bought for me when Liberty was born -- a content powder blue sky and wispy puffs of clouds beckon me through the glass patio doors. The leaves of two trees meet up across the way, splashing gold-red and yellow-green together. The sun creates a perfect shadowy pattern on the wall of the apartment building across from ours.

Willie starts in on "Moon River." I glance towards my feet where Mercy grins up at me, the edge of a plastic five from the refrigerator door peeks between her lips. I fish it from her mouth and blow a quick raspberry onto her chubby right cheek. She giggles and then claps when she sees Liberty's somersault.

The cream and pumpkin neighborhood cat, Tommy, peers in our screen door and mrrows plaintively, willing us to feed him again. The girls both meow back at him and rush to the screen calling "Sitty!" They scare him and disappointedly call, "Come back, sitty! Come back!"

Willie switches to "To Each His Own," and my thoughts turn to my Own. I smile, remembering a conversation we had last night and begin day-dreaming.

Daddy will be home any minute.

(Don't) Burn, Baby, Burn

2009-10-16T07:14:00.004-06:00

Our library has a storytime hour every Thursday morning for Liberty's age group. (Storytime for Mercy's age group happens on Tuesday mornings.) Yesterday, our group met at the fire station instead of the library, and this is what Liberty learned. **Mercy is the child roaming the room wearing pink and a hood.

Hee-hee!

2009-10-15T14:08:00.003-06:00

Yesterday morning, the girls and I drove to our new friends' house.

Well, I drove.

Liberty and Emma played dress up in "real pincess cose, Mommy!" [insert huge three-year-old grin here] while Amy and I took turns rescuing Mercy from the staircase and pulling her out of the lovely fall wreath that Amy had on a stand in her living room, and talking. Lots of talking.

Then Emma and Liberty decided to play the piano, and all talking ceased. No, that's not exactly accurate. All hearing ceased. The talking gave a determined effort at continuing. Until we saw Mercy dancing to the piano "music" and Liberty and Emma singing along with their pounding.

That's when the laughing started.

Mind Over Body

2009-10-13T14:31:00.003-06:00

After all the traveling we did last month, I took a break from the blog to get my mind and my house back in order. Actually, the rainy weather and the tiresome schedule I had been keeping combined to put me into a slump. I woke up every morning and took care of the girls all day, but the get-up-and-go in me had got up and left.

I had a talk with God about this slump and my desire to get out of it, and He sent me a pilates video in the mail by way of my friend, Brenda. Last night, I sat down with my dayplanner to figure out how my days should be organized in order to fit that workout into my daily schedule. Because I'm easy-going and flexible like that.

Speaking of flexible, I just finished my first session of basic pilates about fifteen minutes ago, and I now know that I will need to rearrange my schedule. The workout will have to take place DURING naptime instead of after. I thought it would be great for the kids to wake up from their nap and stretch and workout with me, but I didn't realize that Mommy on the floor equals children on my tummy.

They thought it was playtime, and boy, were they excited! Mercy squealed and lunged onto my tummy before I understood her intent, and Liberty followed closely behind. My instructor Mari on the video had told me to imagine her hand pressing on my belly button taking it to my spine, but I didn't need to imagine anything. The real thing had been forced upon me in my living room.

The good news is, I feel invigorated and healthy. You know, after that one session and all.

Oh well, I suppose it's all in the mind anyway!

Another Summary

2009-09-22T19:24:00.003-06:00

I had such high hopes for that laptop, but alas, finding a wi-fi connection can be harder than I expected. Let me sum up.

I spent a few days at home with my family in Illinois, left the girls, and drove to my house in Iowa to meet the movers and close up shop. A crazy two days kept me busier than I expected. I met with some friends and had to cancel fun times with other friends, but I was able to accomplish the necessary tasks. I had some fun posts ready in my head, but everytime I sat down to blog them, my laptop refused to connect to the internet. This is sad because those posts were really funny. (I can say that because without reading them, you won't be able to contradict me.)

I arrived back in Illinois around midnight on Friday and have enjoyed hanging with my brothers and sister and parents. Mom and I recorded specific designing shows on HGTV and watched them together every night. I'm going to miss that a lot.

Pete and I are preparing to leave in the morning with the girls. The van is packed except for the playpen Mercy is sleeping in right now, my wall charger which is plugged in and a few odds and ends that need to wait until morning to be packed. We're meeting Jeremy at our apartment in Indiana and restocking the refrigerator for him in preparation for next week. Then we will all drive to Ohio to meet up with my whole family and Suzy's whole family for a joint birthday party for Liberty and Abraham. (Suzy is my brother Nate's wife and Abraham is their son.)

We'll spend the weekend there, and then the girls and I will travel back to Mom and Dad's once more. I have to make another trip to Iowa while Jeremy stays behind in Indiana, but after that week is over, we will finally be a family again. Happy all together, as Liberty says.

And now if you'll excuse me, Liberty is trying to listen to my heartbeat with Grandpa's tape measure. "Mommy! Turn around; I need to see your beat-beat."

PS> To everyone who has been calling and emailing about Liberty's health condition: thank you for loving us! She is doing great. Her spots are almost all gone; her fever has been gone for over a week now, and other than a slight tenderness in her knees and ankles and a reluctance to climb or run too fast, she is back to normal. Isn't God kind? :-)

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

2009-09-15T12:01:00.004-06:00

My parent's house in the middle of Illinois cornfields holds such strong feelings for me. Last Thanksgiving, I wrote this post, and this morning that same peacefulness washed over my heart as I pulled back the crimson sheers covering each of the living room windows to let in the beautiful morning light.

I sat on the wide front porch and watched my children enjoy the sunshine, the tire swing, the trampoline, the apple trees, the sweet, corn-scented country air. Sturdy porch boards under my feet and thick rafters and beams overhead surrounded me with my dad's handiwork and symbolized the love and protection always available to me.

I thought back to the previous day's journey. The girls and I had encountered no less than seven road construction and painting crews between Inna-inna and Illinois. At one point, the traffic had crept along at a 10 mile per hour pace for three miles before we encountered a flagger holding a "SLOW" sign. I wondered if I should go even slower as I passed her.

We stopped three times in the first hour to change a diaper, to pick up a fallen baby doll and to rescue a very important blanket. Rather than risking getting lost, I chose to pull off to the side of the road instead of taking exit ramps and finding parking spots. During our twelfth pullover, a kind man knocked on our window and asked if we needed help. I held up a stinky diaper and said, "Not unless you want to dispose of this for me!" He laughed, shook his head, and beat a hasty retreat.

I took a wrong turn once and stopped for directions once. All in all, not too bad. The worst element of our journey was my full bladder. It wasn't until about three hours into our trip that I realized I hadn't made a plan for my own bathroom needs. I pondered my predicament for the next five hours sometimes more urgently than at other times.

But sitting on the front porch, enjoying Liberty's and Mercy's glee, the song of birds, the sound of corn rustling and leaves dancing, the easy breeze, and knowing the laughter and camaraderie of family was only an arm's reach away, I decided without hesitation that the full bladder, and the longer than necessary journey was definitely worth it.

The only thing missing is my Jeremy, and he'll join us here on Friday!

A Very Expensive Diagnosis

2009-09-13T20:11:00.007-06:00

On Wednesday mid morning, Liberty sat down on the picnic table bench next to me at the park and put her thumb into her mouth. My friend Calle and our four remaining little girls continued the high-pitched shrieks that only the joyfullest of little girls on a beautiful sunshiny day are capable of reaching. (For the record, Calle wasn't shrieking.) I glanced at Liberty beside me on the bench and frowned. "Are you okay, HoneyBunny?" I asked.

She popped her thumb from between her lips just long enough to whisper, "Yet's go home, Mommy, I'm cold."

"You mean, you're hot?" I smiled down at her.

"I'm cold," she whispered and continued staring off into the distance.

Tiny alarm bells sounded in my head, and I decided it might be important to return to our apartment where Liberty could sit out of the sun and have a cool drink. The mid-eighties temperature and non-shaded park underscored my decision. We picked up our sand toys, and Liberty hopped off the bench to help. Then we walked home and gave out juice boxes to each girl. It wasn't until I had served a plate of lunch to the girls that I realized Liberty was missing. With her plate in my hand, I looked around and found her sitting quietly in her rocking chair.

"Lib? Are you ready to come eat?"

She just looked at me.

Calle and I exchanged a something's-not-quite-right glance, and I remembered the park incident. I set the plate down and crossed the room, confirming immediately the presence of a fever. Liberty's underarm temp proved to be 101.8. I gave her Motrin and tucked her into bed.

Six hours later, Liberty quietly walked into the living room, her hair dripping with sweat and impossibly curly. I had checked on her several times throughout her nap and chosen to let sleep do its best to heal. She sat and watched a twenty-five cent garage sale "Tummy-tummies" (Teletubbies) video with her daddy and refused any sustenance.

Thursday morning, both of my girls greeted me with smiles and good mornings when I stepped into their bedroom. I lifted Mercy from her crib and turned towards the kitchen. "Wait! Mommy, help me please. May you please help me please?" Liberty's voice entreated.

I smiled at her politeness and stopped at her bedside. "What do you need?"

"Help me get out of bed."

"Help you get out of bed?" I repeated, unsure of her purpose for asking. "Can't you do it yourself?" I teased.

She quietly but pleasantly said, "No."

I lifted her from her blankets and gently set her feet on the floor. She let out a small whimper and landed on her bottom. Puzzled, I looked down at her. She didn't move from her position and did not look up. "What's going on, Liberty?" I asked.

"Help me please, Mommy."

I placed my hands underneath her armpits and gently raised her to a standing position, but when I began to release her weight onto her feet, she urgently grabbed my shirt and held tightly. The first stab of genuine fear found its way into my heart. After much questioning and experimenting, I realized her legs would not hold her weight. I carried her into the dining room and placed her at the breakfast table. She wasn't hungry and her temperature registered at 102.7.

The rest of the day continued according to the pattern established in the morning, broken into cycles of Motrin and Tylenol doses.

On Friday morning, Liberty struggled to sit up in her bed and asked for help again. Her underarm temp was 103.2. When I placed her into the bathtub and began running water, she cried out in pain, "The water hurts me, Mommy!" She struggled pitifully in the water, unable to move her legs effectively, and my heart broke inside my chest. I looked at my daughter who at least twice each day happily tells me, "Bye, Mommy. I have to RUN!" and then proceeds to run 20 or 30 laps up and down the 100 foot sidewalk in front of our building.

I called the doctor.

When I explained Liberty's symptoms to the nurse who came to the phone and requested an appointment "as soon as possible," she set one up for one thirty that afternoon. Someone from church came to watch Mercy since I knew I would have my hands full carrying Liberty.

At 1:30 PM on Friday, I carried my almost three year old daughter into the doctor's office. She hunched in my arms, very protective of her legs. Her knees were drawn up almost to her chest, and her back arched in a permanently rigid, painful looking posture. Both feet seemed frozen in an overly stretched position. It made me wonder if her feet were cramping into that pose. Looking at her scared me.

Apparently, it scared the family doctor, too. He diagnosed her fever and the spots that had broken out all over her body about ten minutes before we started for his office as just a virus, but her uncomfortable and twisted posture he referred to an orthopedic specialist who "happened" to be in town at 2:00 that day. He called the specialist, and an immediate place on the schedule magically opened for us.

The specialist turned out to be a very nice man. He joked with Liberty and quickly put her at ease. He attempted to massage, squeeze, pull, push, bend and stretch Liberty's little body, but he did it so gently and so comically that Liberty spent most of her time giggling at him and thinking he was tickling her. She only displayed tears when he touched her calves and when he attempted to straighten her legs, and even then she bravely smiled at him through her tears. "I want to be happy, Mommy," she said to me with a smile on her face and a voice tight with tears.

Oh, Liberty, I want you to, too!

The specialist conferred with our family doctor, and they decided to run some tests. Liberty gamely painted imaginary pictures on the examining table with an imaginary paint brush while we waited our way through each test and the arrival of each team of testers.

Strep was eliminated early on, and I was told that polio and rickets were never even considered. (The only ones that I could think of.) Meningitis was on the "short list," but farther down. Blood tests were ordered, and we were sent to a pediatric specialist for a new examination. By this time, we had been at the hospital for six hours, and I was starting to feel thirsty and dizzy. Liberty probably was too. I lifted her once again and attempted not to jostle her painfully cramped body as we left the blood suckers and headed for the pediatrician. Her skin felt hot, and red encircled the skin around her eyes. When we arrived and before I filled out another form, I firmly but nicely requested from the receptionist that Liberty's temperature be taken, a drink be given to both her and me, and if the thermometer confirmed what I suspected then a dose of Tylenol be given to my daughter right away.

A nurse hurried out to us and took Liberty's temperature, bringing with her a glass of water. She ducked out of the room to retrieve some Tylenol and quickly returned with the tiny dosage cup. Slightly relieved, I began again to fill out forms, but was interrupted when a different nurse spotted us in the waiting room. "Are you Dr. _____'s patient?" she asked, naming our family doctor.

I looked up. "Yes."

"I thought so," her eyes indicated Liberty's bent form. "Come in right away; we don't need those papers."

As we passed a group of people in scrubs, I overheard their conversation. They were discussing Liberty's condition and exchanging possibilities. Two people studied files in their hand, and one person stood near a fax machine reading papers as they came through. One person called out, "Did Dr. ________ order a Strep test?" Several papers rustled as the answer was searched for.

"He did," I said as I passed them, carrying Liberty towards the examining room, "It came back negative."

The group hushed, but I did not stop to chat or see their faces. Then I heard someone say, "That's Liberty." By this time, my back was to them and Liberty's face over my shoulder smiled at them. (She only stopped smiling when her blood was taken, and even then, her smile jumped back up when she got a balloon "Bubboon.") Someone made a sympathetic "Mmmm" sound.

We waited in the examining room. Practice makes perfect, you know. We played with her bubboon, and her laughter slowly grew stronger sounding as the Tylenol began working. The newest doctor and her nurse practitioner examined Liberty and commented that she did not seem like a little girl in pain. I sighed inwardly and tried to explain, "She never does. Her pain tolerance frightens me sometimes."

The doctor decided that Liberty was probably fine. She asked us if we would like to wait there another hour or so for the blood work to be finished, or if we would like to return home and wait for a phone call. She explained that there was a possibility that the blood work results would require Liberty to be admitted to the hospital, but we could easily return if that was the case. I voted for going home and eating and having a chance to pack our bags in the case of a hospital stay.

An hour and a half later, the phone call came. Blood work shows a virus that has probably settled in her spine or leg joints causing the severe cramping and pain. The only treatment necessary is Ibuprofen every six hours until the virus runs its course.

Thank you, Jesus! I will get to see Liberty running again.

Quick Update

2009-09-10T14:55:00.003-06:00

Liberty has had a fever of about 102 for two days and nights -- not too high, nothing to worry about --but she's complaining of pain in both shins and calves and struggles to walk. I've never seen anything like that before. If she still has a fever tomorrow morning, I'm going to take her to the doctor.

A Post of Future Posts

2009-09-09T14:53:00.003-06:00

Yahoo! Wonderfulness has been poured on me, and I don't have the time or the attention-span to blog it all.

1. Grandpa and Nonna came to visit over the weekend. That single sentence will have to contain it's own joy for now. I will probably post bits and pieces of the visit as they come to my mind over the next little while.

2. Jeremy gave me a few hours of alone time a couple weeks ago, and I spent it at a local coffee shop. I'll have to tell you the funniness later.

3. Our house has passed most of the hurdles prior to our closing date, and I get to go to Iowa next week! Jeremy said I could take his laptop, so I'll be able to blog along the way.

4. God has changed my hurting heart. I'll give you more details on that later, too.

Unofficial

2009-08-30T10:59:00.002-06:00

Another important occurrence during my rain-induced blogging break was the sale of our home. Yes, I did just blandly throw that sentence out with no exclamation points or signs of excitement. How is that possible?

We're supposed to close September 23rd. Since it has not officially happened yet, I'm not allowing myself to rejoice yet. We have to pass a home inspection (which should not be a problem); we have to pass an appraisal (which I don't think is a problem, but with this strange economy, I'm not sure), and we have to find someone who will loan us enough money to cover our loss (amazingly, Jeremy's new company has offered to split the loss with us, so we only need to get a loan for half of our loss!)

Yes, we are thankful to be in the process of selling, but we were hoping to break even or only lose a little. According to our realtor, we have accepted an unbelievably great offer. I'm sure she knows what she is talking about.

I suppose what I'm struggling the most with is saying goodbye to our first home. I love that house. The wonderful kitchen, the lovely fireplace, the red walls. I know, I can paint the walls of our next home, but stop being so practical, okay. I'm trying to grieve here.

And WHY am I trying to grieve, anyway???? We were asking God to sell our house, and He did! Yay for God!

Except it's not official yet, so... small smile for God. ;-)

Liberty Conversations

2009-08-27T11:52:00.003-06:00

Rain clouds have forced our wi-fi connection to be sporadic this past week. A lot of important things have happened while I was disconnected, and I have decided to post the one closest to my heart first: Liberty conversations! You know, before I forget them.

LC number one:

Liberty donned a pair of glittery, gauzy wings and fluttered past me. She made a swooping turn and stopped at my feet. "Yook at me, Mommy. Dess what I am."

"Um, are you a butterfly?"

"Nooooo."

"Are you a fairy?"

"Nooooo."

"Well, what are you then?"

"I'm a fly. Better dit a spyspotter, Mommy, and smash me!"

LC number two:

"Yook at me, Mommy. I'm a froggy."

"Oh! Now, how did this froggy get into our house?"

"Uh-oh. Better put me outside, Mommy."

LC number three:

Liberty and I had played several rounds of hide and seek, and I finally found a great spot to hide on the side of my bed farthest from the door. It took about five minutes for her to find me which is about three minutes longer than it usually takes. When she finally discovered my hiding place she cuddled my hand against her heart and gazed at me tragically.

"Mommy, I was never going to be happy again."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I need you to stay home with me always."

Time Travel

2009-08-18T11:04:00.002-06:00

Two of our closest friends from college, Rodney and Alicia, came to visit over the weekend. They left yesterday afternoon. Alicia and I were roommates during our first two years of college, and we all easily fell back into the pattern of late nights full of fun and days filled with wonderful conversation.

We taught them to play Settlers of Catan, and they taught us to play XMachina where I had to invent a way to travel in time.

Next time that request is made, I will know an easy way to accomplish it: just invite Rodney and Alicia over. Time moves backwards without anyone realizing it.

Unfortunately, it somehow moves forward by the time morning rolls around. I'll have to make a few minor tweaks to my invention.

Moving Forward

2009-08-13T12:21:00.005-06:00

I wrote about a strong hurt earlier, and someone sent me this email (and gave me permission to copy it here):

I read your blog today and I wanted to say that I totally relate to what you said. I’ve been hurt badly by people that were closest to my heart and I found myself withdrawing not only from them, but also from others. If people I care about most hurt me, than other people are sure to hurt me right?

We have very few friends at all due to this and even find that we’re distancing ourselves from family members. I’m not sure how to reverse this. Every time I allow someone to get close the first time they make the slightest wrong move I am retreating again. I know in my head that it is unreasonable to expect people to be perfect, but my heart likes to run and hide.

The struggle to move forward.

Truthfully, I don't know how to do it either. This is a subject that Jeremy and I discussed in depth a few days ago. I don't know what to do, what to let go of, what kind of expectations to have for myself or for relationships, how to get past my own wall. It's frustrating because I see myself eventually turning into a lonely, bitter person and that is exactly what I would NEVER want to be.

I begged God a few days ago to show me what He wants. I know He doesn't want my current state to be my perpetual state. In my meandering through the Bible, which I have mentioned before, my devotions that night were in Isaiah, and God showed me this verse.

Isaiah 30:15 - "This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.'"

Hmm, maybe all I need to do is nothing. I've faced my heart; I'm asking God to help me change; now, I just need to let His Spirit do the changing. I'm sure at some point that will require action from me, but right now, I'm supposed to repent, rest, be quiet and trust.

Surprisingly, I have found that hard to do. Letting God DO without me doing? Apparently, I'm not even very trusting of Him! :-)

Accomplished!

2009-08-13T11:22:00.002-06:00

I feel so smug. The girls and I ran errands all morning, our first morning-full-o'-errands since arriving in Inni-inna. AND these errands were all accomplished before their expiration dates. Can you say WOO-HOOO? I may be getting the hang of this.

We stopped at the new doctor's office with signed transfer paperwork. (Yes, this would be paperwork that I mentioned needed doing in a post a few weeks ago, what of it?) We stopped at the bank to deposit a check (and BONUS - got our address changed and successfully said no repeatedly during a meeting with the bank's pushy sales rep [the noes were directed at the sales guy, not my daughters - DOUBLE BONUS!]) We stopped to balance along the tops of several concrete bumpers in every parking lot. We stopped for obedience lessons, and Liberty continually made some very good choices mixed with a couple bad choices, but overall -- GOOD! We stopped to learn the first line of the pledge of allegiance (every. single. time. we. saw. a. flag.) And let me tell you, this is a patriotic town! We stopped to pick up mid-week supplies at Walmart. Liberty learned the "No-Suching-Innyting" rule. (No Touching Anything -- It's a very important rule.) We stopped to buy Swiss Rolls because I couldn't help myself. They had them lined up at the entrance. Evil Walmart people.

We did not stop to pick up a potty training book with my new library card that arrived in the mail yesterday, but there's always tomorrow!

Healing

2009-08-11T07:59:00.003-06:00

My blog has remained silent for a while, not because I have nothing to post, on the contrary, posts seem to be bubbling up within me. But every time I concentrate enough to type, the one post that I do NOT want to write is the only one sitting at the tips of my fingers.

So here goes.

It is possible that just typing it will be enough for me. Maybe after I write it out I will be able to delete it and move on. Or maybe it will have to be published. I'm hoping that I can delete it.

For several years, Jeremy and I have struggled with a certain situation about which I want to remain vague. This struggle has shredded our hearts, leaving mangled pieces dangling, exposed to pain whenever the wind picks up. The struggle is now over, but somehow, during those years and especially during the extreme last few months, I erected a protective barrier in front of my heart.

The barrier was never intended to keep people out, just pain. It was a coping mechanism, to borrow a popular phrase; I thought it helped me stay close to the people while keeping the pain-level lower. I think I was wrong.

The only way to minimize pain is to hold the pain-causer at a distance. It's a bit like hugging a hand-grenade, knowing it will explode on you at any second. Minimizing the effects of the blast can only be achieved by running away before the explosion.

But what if -- and here's where the analogy doesn't work very well -- what if you love the hand-grenade? Running away from it is not an option. That dangerous explosion hurts not only you; it destroys the grenade. Jeremy and I would do anything to prevent the destruction of the grenade. Alright, enough with the analogy that no longer works!

All of that was really background information anyway. The point of this post, the subject I intended to address is this. God has brought Jeremy and I into a time of rest. He moved us to a land without connections, without expectations, without a past.

At first, neither of us realized how handicapped we had become. We continued to live inside shells without even knowing it, but slowly we began to see ourselves, to see some of the emotional withering and its affects. I, for example, no longer quickly develop relationships. I laugh at my daughter, Liberty, who stands on our patio and shouts, "HI, FRIEND! WANNA PLAY WITH ME?" to anyone passing, but the truth is, until a year ago, I used to be the one shouting and making immediate friends. Now, I meet people; I chat politely; I long for real friendship, but I hold myself at a distance. It's not fun being burned, and how can I tell who will burn me?

God knew how fragile our souls have become. He knew where we needed to be in order to begin healing. He moved us.

He moved us to a church that I cannot find words to describe. The people love. That is all that can be said. They reach out. They don't believe in just Sunday relationships. At this time when I am unable to reach out, God knew I needed someone who would reach out to me. So He brought us here.

Jeremy is hurting also, and his armor shows up in other areas of his life. Without going into any detail, I will let you know that God has also put him in the specific right spot to recover.

When I say recover, I do not mean that we will revert to the innocence of the way we lived before. No, we hope to grow, accepting the stains, still loving the reasons for the stains, but becoming more mature in our walk with God because of the stains. We do not want to remain in our protective armor. We want to have soft hearts. Hearts that know hurt is possible, but that reach out and hug anyway.

It will take time, but our God is good. And He created time.

Here's To Friends

2009-08-02T21:11:00.002-06:00

Last week, the loneliness bug bit me, and I begged God to send me someone to talk with. Someone to be a real friend. He has introduced several people to me as little pick-me-ups, but I'm looking for someone long term and like-minded to share my heart. I specifically have been asking for a lady who has kids right around my girls' ages. I want a friend who will encourage me, but also someone whom I can encourage. I want a friend who will laugh with me until some sort of beverage shoots from her nostrils. And then laugh some more. I want a friend who is up for any kind of adventure, and loves to talk long into the night. I want a friend who loves God with all of her heart and keeps her relationship with Him as her top priority. I want a friend who loves her husband and family and keeps that relationship as her next priority.

I've had a few good friends like that in my life, and I've been separated from them for several years now. Jennifer, Melody, Alicia and Jackie are still my wonderful friends, but distance creates a barrier to daily interaction and adventures.

I read some of the literature that our new church sent us, and I noticed a little paragraph about a MOPS group (Mothers Of Preschoolers) that meets regularly. My eyes brightened, and my heart tingled, that's how God's going to introduce me to my new friend! I just KNEW it!

When Dian (without an e) and I got together on Friday, I asked her about the group. Her kids are now in their twenties, so she has stopped keeping tabs on the MOPS group. "I don't think they are still meeting," she told me. "There was a logistical problem that they were working on, and I think they quit meeting last month."

"Oh," I smiled unconcernedly at her while my heart crumbled. "That's too bad."

The following day, since Jeremy went to Chicago with the guys from church, I had another time slot to fill up. I strapped the girls into the van and drove around town.

Guess what?

I FOUND THE LIBRARY!!!!!

I immediately drove home to gather the necessary piece of mail with my name and address on it in order to obtain a library card. Did you know that in two weeks, I have not received any mail? Or if I have it has my old address on it. How frustrating.

So, I gathered several pieces of mail. One with Jeremy's name and the new address, one with Liberty's name and the new address, one with Jeremy's and my names together and the old address and my old drivers license, and I prayed all the way there.

The librarian's name was Anne. I would guess she was in her late forties, maybe early fifties. She had dark brown hair and a gentle face, but the most amazing part of her was the fact that being around her felt comfortable and easy. I felt loved and cared about immediately. She quickly joined Evelyn from my old church on my List of Women Whom I Would Like To Be Like Someday.

She bent the rules on documentation in order to give me a library card, and she asked a strange question without any context at all: "Would you mind terribly if I gave your name and phone number to another lady who has children right about your girls' ages?"

I stared at her for a second, wondering if I were understanding her intent correctly. "Wh-what do you mean?" I finally stammered.

"Well, I can see that you are new in town, and I'm sure you will be needing some friends. There are a few moms who like to get together every so often..." her voice trailed off, then she clarified, "I would like to give your contact information to one of the ladies, but I certainly would not do so if you would rather that I didn't."

I blinked to dry up the tiny moisture springing to my eyes. There was more moisture there than I expected. I laughed and fanned my face with a nearby brochure, "This is ridiculous!" I told her.

Anne smiled in understanding. "It's okay," she reassured me with a hand on my arm. "I've been new before, too."

Liberty selected a book from a nearby shelf and flopped to her tummy in front of the desk to read it out loud. Anne and I laughed together, she recommended a book to me and then she told me about the story time sign up sheet for preschoolers. I signed up for a Tuesday morning time and a Thursday morning time.

We took two Curious George books, a novel by Roxanne Henke called Learning to Fly and a mended heart home with us.

It felt wonderful!