Thursday, December 31, 2009

Ringin' In Twenty-Ten

Twelve years ago tonight I said yes to Seth, to our lives together.

Sometimes, on nights like last Friday/Saturday, I get all frustrated and think, "This is not the life I envisioned then."

And it's not.

At all.

But that's not such a bad thing, ya know?

I had no idea how full my heart could get when I'd hear my six-year old son singing to his baby brother a made up lullaby about how much he loved his sweet baby brother.

I had no idea that I could love harder, faster andso fiercely over time than I did at 18, but I can, and that is a beautiful thing.

I had no idea that to grow we often must break first, and that these broken pieces can be fashioned into a new you that makes a devastatingly beautiful mosaic.

I know now that my mosaic is still being patterned and fashioned.... I'm finding theat letting go is the greatest thing we can do for ourselves, especially when we remind ourselves that we have chosen to let it go, meaning things are not going to turn out as we may have hoped or previously planned for.

My resolution is to more consciously let go of the things that I want to have my own control over and hand them to my God.

Tonight is a family night, watching movies, eating a good dinner in, and getting up in the morning to snowshoe (which we're hoping to make our NYD tradition now that we all have snowshoes! Well...Christopher has a backpack to ride in).

Be Blessed.



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, December 26, 2009

"This is NOT How I Wanted You to Remember Today"

 
So groaned my husband late last night early this morning.

Christmas was great - both sides of our family significantly downsized the presents aspect, something I've craved for years, everyone got along despite the lack of sleep afforded by Christmas Eve, and the juggling between my family and Seth's was a piece of cake this year - no guilt-inspired tug of war.

And yet, at about 11:30 I fell apart and sobbed on my husband's lap in front of my in-laws for a good ten minutes. Exhausted.

****

We sing a song in the children's programs at church:
The wise man built his house upon The Rock, his house upon The Rock....

The foolish man built his house upon the sand, his house upon the sand....
****

Tuesday night we experienced one of Kelsey's sensory superfits. While we saw the beginnings of one over Thanksgiving, we hadn't seen a big one in a LONG time. Like long ago enough that sensory integration dysfunction seemed like a distant memory.

Well, Tuesday not only recalled that memory but brought it front and center.

Sleep has been an issue of late for Kelsey. She's had trouble with insomnia, and calming her engine enough that she can successfully relax and induce herself to sleep. Result: chaos for an already disorganized brain.

Add to it that her school was in session Monday and Tuesday, yet really, all bets were off re: attempting normal schedule.

Mix in one mother, caught up in the holiday hustle and bustle, also deprived of sleep because of one teething infant, whose hypervigilance at waiting for the other sensory shoe to drop has been greatly reduced, and well, I completely missed the triggers.

At bedtime, we had a battle royale about sleep and it escalated such that I had to put her in her room and hold her bedroom door shut for a prolonged period (45 minutes...have I mentioned that the child is stubborn in addition to neuro-atypical?) while she screamed and beat at the door. It broke my heart to see her like this again. It made me want to crawl into a hole when she proclaimed that I was the "meanest mama ever," because when I tried to see things from her eyes I could see how she felt betrayed by me essentially locking her up, BUT I knew it was for her own good, lest I hurt her or she me.

****

It's Christmas night. We've just returned to Seth's folks after eating with my folks, exchanging gifts and playing Wii.

It's late.

I told Kelsey it's time to get ready for bed and she protested. She wasn't one bit tired! She wanted to read!

This is stubbornness, not a sensory issue, it seemed.

I told her she could read in the entry room but that the adults were playing a game and she didn't need to be in the same room.

And the melt-down began.

I want to cry and scream and pitch a fit because I am bone tired after Christopher's weeks of teething have been topped off with traveling sleep, which means none.

But I called upon some reserve somewhere within me.

After Seth had tried to reason with her, and failed, I began to see this was going sensory. She was hysterical and repeating that she'd never be able to get to sleep, all while having that other worldly look on her face. Nothing penetrates this look. Just gotta take the wild wave and ride it.

Manic, she flailed at me, screamed, shook her head and just fell apart as I tried to touch her, hoping that the deep pressure could bring her back to me. Her eyes held a look of fight or flight, terrified at what was going on inside her. I almost broke at the helplessness of knowing her neurons were in chaos and firing excessively - lot of good knowing what does when there is no rhyme or reason to alleviating the why of the problem.

Eventually, I got her to a spare bedroom. There I cradled my biggest baby like when she was a newborn and we rocked while she continued to huff and puff and slow her engine down.

At this point my sister-in-law entered the room, tears streaming down her face.

At first, I interpreted her tears as those of the "I can't stand her pain, make it stop" variety and felt a twinge of defensiveness raise its ugly head.

"What...can I do...to help? I want to help her....and you." Her face crumpled and her tears fell faster.

It was then that I sensed that she'd gotten a glimpse of what it is for me to mother Kelsey, this bittersweet hellish rollercoaster that I ride, along with two other children who need me just as much. Her words from our morning present-opening (we make a point of having the gift-giver tell their giftee why they love them before each gift is opened) echoed in my mind, "You're so brave."

I motioned her over to the bed with us. And she just sat while I numbly and automatically did joint compressions on Kels to calm her down. I remember at one point squeezing her hand so hard that my knuckles turned white and Kelsey whispered, "Harder, Mama." As I could feel her body quiet, I began to murmur to her that I knew it was beyond her control, that I wasn't mad and that I just wanted to help her come back. My sister-in-law asked Kels what would help her, which caused her to stiffen. She couldn't have known that in this state an open-ended question is just more chaos for Kelsey's disorganized brain. So I intervened.

At home Kelsey and I have a nightly prayer together before bed, but when traveling this nighttime rite is often tossed aside. Routine and ritual help soothe her. So I prayed while I held my girl, all gangly limbs curling over my arms, one of the longest, most heartfelt prayer I've prayed with her. It was long after she fell limp in my arms that I closed the prayer, my own eyes moist and damp.

I hefted her 75lb, nearly as tall as me frame, into her bedroom and tucked her in. Asleep.

Mission Accomplished.

But at what cost? Would she be mortified in the morning? And how can I keep this from happening? What's she gonna do when she's at college and noone knows to squeeze her feet, hands and compress her other joints?

These and other racing thoughts plagued my exhausted mind such that I gave voice to them with the hiccuping sobs that I melted into on Seth's lap. It was now 11:30. We'd battled for right at an hour and a half.

****

Sometime after midnight, we settled into bed. And Christopher awoke. Inconsolable.

We each took turns trying to soothe him. But no amount of rocking, nursing, Orajel, Tylenol, or Motrin would help.

Around 3am was when Seth made his statement re: how this day was going to go down in my mind's history.

It was then that the childish song popped into my mind, and I realized how this incident might have undone someone else, that someone else might have slipped into their own sleep-deprived, incoherent raging.

But that reserve from which I drew?

The rock upon which my faith is built, from which I draw my strength.

****

This week has been hard, as the sleeping has still yet to resume back to N-O-R-M-A-L, whatever that is anyway. But I have to say that the fact that my husband is an angel, my sister-in-law's empathic gesture of just BEING with me, and a silly little song have all helped remind me that I'm not alone and I don't have to do this all by myself.



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, December 24, 2009

For Those Who Didn't Get a Card From Us

Click here for our Christmas newsletter.

2009 was a wild and crazy year, best summed up by Kutless' song "What Faith Can Do:"
Everybody falls sometimes
Gotta find the strength to rise
From the ashes and make a new beginning
Anyone can feel the ache
You think its more than you can take
But you are stronger, stronger than you know
Don't you give up now
The sun will soon be shining
You gotta face the clouds
To find the silver lining

I've seen dreams that move the mountains
Hope that doesn't ever end
Even when the sky is falling
And I've seen miracles just happen
Silent prayers get answered
Broken hearts become brand new
That's what faith can do

It doesn't matter what you've heard
Impossible is not a word
It's just a reason for someone not to try
Everybody's scared to death
When they decide to take that step
Out on the water
It'll be alright
Life is so much more
Than what your eyes are seeing
You will find your way
If you keep believing

I've seen dreams that move the mountains
Hope that doesn't ever end
Even when the sky is falling
And I've seen miracles just happen
Silent prayers get answered
Broken hearts become brand new
That's what faith can do

Overcome the odds
You do have a chance
(That's what faith can do)
When the world says you can't
It'll tell you that you can!

I've seen dreams that move the mountains
Hope that doesn't ever end
Even when the sky is falling
And I've seen miracles just happen
Silent prayers get answered
Broken hearts become brand new
That's what faith can do
That's what faith can do!
Even if you fall sometimes
You will have the strength to rise
My illness threw us for a loop this spring, but faith in God's promises have gotten us through, per the letter.

May you all be blessed with such faith, hope and love this Christmas and for 2010!



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

It Doesn't Hurt...

Seth is not as addicted to observant of the e-mail as I am.

Nor has he ever really read my blogs without first being told to do so.

Which means, he did not look at the Invisible Woman e-mail his mom sent the other day, entitled "FW: Merry Christmas, Please Watch."

Last night, he sat down and looked at the e-mails in our inbox and he points to it, and asks me, "This any good?"

While it is the kind of e-mail that is easily relegated to the genre of "chick flick," I told him, "Yeah. It is."

Afterward, all he said was, "I see you too, though often it is in hindsight. Thanks for all you do."

And so ladies, perhaps that might be a reason to forward the e-mail on to all the men in your life - as they might need a prompt to tell their special lady who feels none so special, invisible even, something similar.

P.S. Note he WATCHED the e-mail, which means the video not the text one. This is important when sending to men!



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, December 21, 2009

The Invisible Woman

I believe that God speaks to us through many different media.

There are written words, both those breathed by the Holy Spirit in Scripture and those penned by people (who often will not know their impact) in tomes of literature, on display of a computer monitor or some other format.

Nature speaks to me, not audibly to my ears, but to my heart and soul which "hear" things my ears never could.

Music speaks to me in a way that integrates all the senses.

The analysis of a series of events often conveys messages to me - though some might call it superstition, I feel it is more of a discernment and intuition.

I could go on, but that would take me away from the point at which I'm trying to arrive.

I also believe that God, when He really wants our attention, will cause the same thing that speaks to us to lend itself to repeated surfacings. In the past I'll have read a certain passage in Scripture and then it will come up in class or a sermon, or in conversation with a friend - usually a combination of all of those, too!

Recently, I got an e-mail from a friend called The Invisible Woman. The words, dealing with the frustrations of being a mom who often comes last, can be found below. A few days later, I received the same e-mail with the message being spoken by the lovely and talented Nicole Johnson.

God's doing it, trying to get my attention. The overall theme of The Invisible Woman is directly applicable to my life, particularly the part about God seeing ME and caring about what I do or don't do and His admonition to keep at it.

And the timing....could it come at a better time? No, in the midst of several attempts to do fun things with the kids for the holidays (salt dough ornaments and then the painting of them, holiday baking with the kids' help, gingerbread cookies and then the decorating of them) and their quick lapses into complaints of "We NEVER get to do ANYTHING fun," not to mention my recent little pity parties, I'd say the timing on this is nothing short of perfect.

I'm going t share it with y'all, in the hopes that it uplifts you and speaks to your heart. Blessings!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YU0aNAHXP0&hl=en_US&fs=1&]
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?? Â I need that now Mommy!

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' Hurry Mom, I'll be late!

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!?

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe

I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it t o me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'



In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fuelled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it. And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.'

No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become. At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there..'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.




© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, December 18, 2009

The Christmas Card Photo

(Alternate title: In Which I Realize I am NOT This Great Photographer/Mommyblogger, Nor This One, Nor This One Either. Also, Not Her.)

(Alternate title II: Santa, I Can Haz Mad Camera Skillz? Plz?!?)

I'm late to the party, I know. 

But the cards will be in the mail TOMORROW.

We HAD to take a family photo.

But, uhm, not a lot of disposable cash, so we went about it amateur style: by ourselves.

Our camera has a timer, so it wasn't impossible, but it was patience trying, for sure.

whoopsies!
 
Whoah, Chris has three hands....

 
We can't just get "normal" smiles, we have to have the dreaded cheesey faces..."

Wow, normal smiles, but oh no! Chris isn't looking....grrr...

 
Colton sez..."Are we done yet?"

Chris sez..."I'm gonna pull sister's hair and see what she does." Scream, naturally....oy vey.

We hardly ever get couple pics so I insisted!

Our card photo - as none of them were quite the "it" picture alone, but together they are great!




© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, December 14, 2009

I was perusing my blogroll the other day and found a great post of Megan's over at Velveteen Mind.

She quotes from Meet the Robinsons:

From failing you learn. From success...not so much.

Lately, I feel as if I am failing everything (perfectionist) and everyone (people pleaser) though, and it gives me pause to wonder what it is that I('m supposed to be learning.

For example, this morning Kelsey and Colton were in prime form, willfully disregarding my entreaties to, "Please eat! ... Please quit reading riddles and get ready for school! ... Get your socks and shoes on, now please!... Eat your breakfast! ... Socks and shoes! ... Leave the dogs alone and do what I've asked you to please! :repeated ad nauseum: " I quickly transformed from harried, albeit polite, mother to a harsh monster as their mouths got smarter and sassier, not to mention none of the morning necessaries had gotten done yet. As my normal voice had gone unheeded three or more times already, I morphed into yelling. And that didn't work either. So then the flood of emotion started to build, as my inner dialog focused on my inadequacies as a mother - surely I was a failure as my children wouldn't obey me in getting ready for school, surely it was my fault that my daughter's eyes were rolling every time my mouth opened, surely this lack of respect for authority was going to wind them both up in prison on down the road - and they sensed it. Colton ran over to me, breakfast STILL uneaten, and tried to hug me when I leaped over the edge.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR &*%# HUGS, I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME!!!"

Yes, I swore at him. Yes, I felt like my stature went from 5'5" to miniscule in mere nano-seconds. FAIL!

Kelsey and Colton both chimed in chorus, "You hate us," and pouted.

I had to regain my composure instantaneously.

"No, guys, I do not hate YOU."

"Yes you do!!!"

"No, please, let me finish. I am very sorry for swearing at you and yelling, and wish that I could take it back. That was very wrong of me."

Deep breath.

"Can we please just get along, follow instructions and have a relatively easy morning from here on out?"

Solemn nods.

And that's just one example.

I feel like I'm floundering in so many ways. And I'm left wondering, what is the lesson in this floundering?

All I can come up with is that I can't make it all better on my own. I can't do all of this on my own. And that I am NOT a perfect person.

But God is, and was, and will be. And I just need to lean on Him more in times like these. Forget pulling myself up by the bootstrap and ask Him to help pull me out of the slimy pit I'm in, to ask Him to put my feet on a firm rock.



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Three Dog Nights and Two Dog Days

It's been a frozen tundra here in NoCo lately.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas indeed, as the snow we got last week has yet to melt. In other words December has arrived. And with it, some frigid temperatures that have kept me housebound. I'm in need of a good long run but it's too cold outside and I have no indoor substitute - no treadmill, no gym membership, and no indoor track that I'm aware of.

Christopher has been teething and as a result has become extremely clingy and light in his sleeping. Monday he got all of 30 minutes in daytime sleep. As a result his wakeful time was quite irritable and fussy. So, Tuesday when I got him to sleep I held him long enough to ensure he was really out, then carried him over to the swing and began to lower him down ever-so-gently when POP! went his eyes. I quickly retreated to the couch and sat with him, where he fell back asleep and we were one flesh for 2 hours. I was so glad that he slept that long, but was frustrated that I was rendered unable to get any of the household things done, and they need done badly as I've been sick and let a lot of things go while trying to recuperate from this nasty sinus bug.

My other beef with the temps is that our dogs have been indoors for a week and are beyond squirrely. Sometimes they wrestle to get out their energy, but that is LOUD and not exactly the safest with a baby crawling around. Consequently, I feel like I am shouting "No!" all day long and trying to divert their attentions to other pursuits.

I've been wrestling with parental guilt too as Kelsey and Colton have gotten into some bad habits of late, and I find myself wondering at the end of the days what I have done to foster such whiny, selfish, and disrespectful behaviors. I know that a lot of this is them being cooped up too - indoor recesses for a week due to the cold - as well as me being sick and thus not sticking to our routines, but....sometimes having an understanding doesn't always help the experiencing much.

I've been trying to find more activities to engage them to try and curb the insolence and I'm getting mixed results. I had the kids make salt dough ornaments with me last weekend and we painted them together when we were done, which was fun. They've been helping me out more with cooking - just last night they helped me fill and roll enchiladas for our supper and they really seemed to enjoy it. But the bickering and the obstinence over daily minutiae (what to wear, what to eat for breakfast, not following directions etc.) continues. Kelsey's sensory issues seem to be popping up in the nature of her fits at home, so I'm having to re-discipline myself into making sure there's structure and interjecting little ways for her to receive input here as school has pretty much determined that she's compensating well enough at school and thus there is no need for them to intervene - something that I agreed to at the beginning of the year as things were going really well.

So...pity party for me, lol. It's been a hard few weeks, and I sometimes forget that "This too shall pass."



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, December 7, 2009

I've made a move...

I won't be blogging here anymore.

You can find me (and all of this blog too) at http://ramblinred.wordpress.com. Please update your blogrolls accordingly.

Peace!




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, December 4, 2009

Been a Little While...

[taps] Is this thing on?

So, yeah, it's been a loooooooooong time since I sat down and pounded a keyboard.

Why so long?

Maybe because everything in the world has been on my shoulders and because I've been living the life of an ostrich (i.e. my head has been covered by sand, into which said head was thrust in hopes of acquiring the bliss said to be brought with ignorance)?

Maybe because everything is both so very right and yet so very wrong at the same time?

Maybe because I'm not at all anonymous in my blogging anymore, as my blog, due to a thoughtless click of a button, is now shared with all facebook friends, read: IRL people who KNOW me, or at least KNEW me at some point in time and not the random strangers or friends that the internet has offered me over the years. Funny, I used to think that I had carte blanche to say whatever I wanted when I was pseudo-anonymous (total anonymity is a farce, right?), but now I find myself censoring, wondering "What would that person think of me if I used PG-13 language," or "Would this hurt so-and-so's feelings?" or "Could this potentially be misinterpreted and held against me?"

I've been sick lately, so running has been out (and even if not sick, this week's arctic temps have kept me confined as I have a running partner who really needn't be exposed to brrr-freaking-cold air for the heck of it). Running has sort of taken the place of blogging as my sounding-off, head-clearing activity. Sort of. In that usually when I'm sounding off while running it is a sort of dialog between me and God. Not always verbalized, but a consciousness of themes and events in life that seems to make its way to Him in a Romans 8:26 fashion.

Money sucks. I hate this necessary evil with every fiber of my being. Yes, we are struggling. Yes, we have made dumb mistakes, repetitively even. Yes, some of the burdens were beyond our control, but no, we have not made the sacrifices we probably needed to to make ends meet. Relatively speaking, we are probably better off than many Americans, but personally, I hate this place we are in. I vacillate between thinking that I ought to go back to work and realizing that even if I could find something right now it probably would only cover childcare and possibly insurance. In other words, me working is not the magic cure-all.

Lil Guy is growing faster than I'd like. He's sitting up and starting to army crawl quite frequently now. He's my joy-bringer, that one. His smile, often accompanied by this one raised eyebrow thing that he does that implies a deeper understanding of the circumstance at hand than that possible of an infant, melts so much of the gray of life away that I wish I could just bottle it up for those all-too-frequent mentally rainy days.

Well, Lil Guy is awakened, so this is it for now.






© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, October 15, 2009

I made the top 500!



So, Saturday was my first 5k. Not my first 5k since being sick, but my first 5k. As in Ever. And yes, it was brrrisk out. Snowing and all of 17 degrees.

I am NOT a fast runner. I mean truth be told, some power walkers might outpace my "jog," but hey, it's my heart and it feels so much better to me when I jog versus walking.

I told everyone that if I finished in 45 minutes I'd be happy. My goal was to finish the whole thing running (no run/walk for this girl, thank you!), not a set time.

Well, how about finishing, running the whole way, in 43 minutes 10 seconds? (Yes, all you who follow on facebook that is a difference - there was a glitch in the official times on race day, apparently this is the real time - even faster than I'd thought!) Suh-weet! And, I finished 494th out of 1,000 runners, so I made the top half! And now I have me a really cool t-shirt too.

My friends above are all from church - the 5k was for CSU's homecoming and we'd planned on running with some of the folks from our campus ministry; however, only one of the students actually showed. Anyway, the gal on the far left is my age and the HS cross-country coach I ran with the week before the race. She and the guy next to last in the pic came back for me after they'd finished. They found me at about the 2 1/2 - 2 3/4 mile mark and ran the rest of the way with me - encouraging me and not only cheering me on, but engaging the spectators to cheer me on too! They're totally awesome like that. And in much better shape, I might add.

Thanks be to God for His healing in my body - this never would have been possible without Him.

I can do all things through Christ, because he gives me strength.





© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, October 9, 2009

These Vignettes Brought to You by Testosterone!

Yesterday morning in the kitchen as we are doing the morning rush:

Punkinhead - Hey, LMNOB do you have Oprah today?

LMNOB and me - Huh?????

LMNOB - You mean that black lady on the TV?

Punkinhead, exasperated - No! I mee-ean that singing thing you do!

:cue lightbulb: Oprah = Opera in his little boy mind! Aha!

LMNOB, all self-righteous: It's CHOIR, Punkinhead, not OPERA! And yes, I do have choir after school today.

Well, then!

***********************
My bedroom, the other night as Charlie Brown and I are settling in for the night.

Charlie Brown: Dang, woman! You are getting skinny on me.

Me (stupidly doing that female thing where I protest at a compliment): I'd hardly call myself skinny.

Charlie Brown: Better than a TURD like me.

Me: Charlie Brown! Why are you saying that, you don't let me get away with putting myself down, so knock it off!

Charlie Brown: You misunderstand, my dear. TURD....Totally Un-Resistable Dude.

Me: Bwahahahaha.....You're, muahaha, too much! Oh, my heck, my sides hurt. Besides, isn't the proper term irresistable?

Charlie Brown: There you go, putting me down again.

Oh brother.......

Men!




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, October 5, 2009

Running High

So, I didn't run after last Monday until Saturday. Yeah, 'cause I'm all about regularity and routine, eh?

Saturday, I ran with LMNOB while she was pushing Lil Guy in the stroller. LMNOB did not last long with running and so she walked while I would run ahead and run back to her. I did that for 23 minutes, which was a new record in recent history!

Yesterday, I went with a friend from church, who is a high school cross country coach (read: in much better shape, faster, smaller, etc. etc. than me) to the university track and ran a bit with her. I ran a 1000 meter with her (totally kicked my butt!) and then did 5 laps that alternated between running and walking. I was kind of perturbed at myself and my lack of endurance to just run straight like I had on Saturday, but gave myself some slack in the end and was just glad that I got out and did something.

Now...ya'll might be wondering what is my obsession with running.... While I was so sick I told God in a prayer that I wanted to get better, that I wanted my body to reflect His glory and healing powers. So what better than to take a person who virtually had no lung capacity and make them run mere months after such an ordeal? Not only that, but 5 years ago, I began running and it was such a thing of spiritual growth for me. Can't really explain it, but running and praying to God cast a new light on what relying on Him truly meant. After that initial year of running, I began to trickle out of it and would run only sporadically. My spiritual life kind of went through the same spurts and stagnants cycle as my running. And after being so ill and seeing my mortality with such clarity, let's just say that I don't want to become stagnant in my faith again.

So there's a 5k this Saturday....and I'm registered for it. So I've been getting even more serious about running as I need to train.

My goal was to run every day this week.

This morning it was gray and drizzly.

No matter, I'll get a hat and wear a jacket. I'll bundle the baby up good and warm.

And so I did. Got the older two off to the bus stop and set about my way at 8:20 this morning.

I walked for 6 minutes to warm up then started jogging and ran about a mile in 12 minutes. That's about right for me. Stopped to cross the street and continued to walk for about 4 minutes. Then I started running again, but only lasted for 4 minutes. 4 minutes, what the heck?! And I began to think of the cross, and everything that Jesus had to endure in his last hours on earth. Surely I could do better than 4 minutes. I walked for 5 minutes, visualizing the cross the whole time. Then I started to run again.....6 minutes this time, but to be fair it was all uphill! I walked for several more minutes again noting that I would run on the walking trail when I got to it. I got to it and ran, and finally it clicked. Another mile + down in 13 minutes. I thanked God and looked up. The giant clouds that had been raining over me had split and suddenly half the sky was blue and clear. A nice "thumbs up" from God, it seemed, and my heart soared with gratitude for the affirmation.

I will finish that 5k on Saturday. With God's help and example, I will persevere.

Acts 20:24 - However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace.

Now, if you'll excuse me - I really need a shower.


© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, September 28, 2009

Whispers of Reinforcement

This morning, after a brief sensory meltdown (initially she was cold, legitimately as Charlie Brown left the downstairs windows open last night, and from there it spiraled as she couldn't have the juice she wanted in her lunch....seriously?!?) made us late for the bus and I'd subsequently dropped the kiddos off at school, I ventured out for a run.

A run. As in that thing I haven't done most of September due to a cold that hit me particularly hard after Labor Day. As in that activity that helped me drop 7 lbs in 2 weeks while changing nary a thing in my diet (which is already pretty healthful as I'm feeding me and Lil Guy but there are the occasional transgressions ;)).

And as I did so, I was struck. Not by lightning. Not by some giant epiphany. I was love-struck. Not by my love for someone/thing, but rather I found myself face to face with the Love that my God lavishes upon each one of us. I smiled as I saw the autumn sunlight casting beams off the trees and landmarks, just like He knows I love so much. As the cloudless sky, so pristine and crisply blue, seemed to purify the air simply by being, I found the strides, the breaths effortless and exhilarating at the same time. Just 4 months ago I was being released from the hospital and could barely walk up my stairs to go to the bathroom - and here I am running with a healthy body. Praise God! He has been so good to me and my family!

I reflected on yesterday's bible class. This quarter we are studying the emotions of the Psalms, and for the past two weeks we've been focused on joy/praise as is found in Psalm 8. Despite Psalm 8 being more apropos for a starry evening, the words fit the moment this morning:

1 O Lord, our Lord, your majestic name fills the earth!
Your glory is higher than the heavens.
2 You have taught children and infants
to tell of your strength,
silencing your enemies
and all who oppose you. 3 When I look at the night sky and see the work of your fingers—
the moon and the stars you set in place—
4 what are mere mortals that you should think about them,
human beings that you should care for them?
5 Yet you made them only a little lower than God
and crowned them with glory and honor....

Indeed, when I think of ALL that God created and how small mankind is, relative to the planet, let alone the whole universe, and further how small I am in the grand scheme of things, I wonder how it is that I am so important to him that he is so intimately involved in my life - and those of others too?

And lately it seems to me that I can see God reinforcing this idea of his intimate knowledge of my heart everywhere I turn. Largely, where I turn in the Word.

Certain Scriptures keep getting cross-referenced in my path, reinforcing their truths upon my heart. I know better than to believe that these are coincidences, and know that God is working to let me know that He cares for me and wants me to rest in the promises of these passages that keep popping up.

The preacher's sermons seem to be tailor made each week for what I am facing personally.

This morning, as I was reflecting on the Psalms class, I noted that the first emotion we're looking at being joy/praise was just the jolt that I needed out of my recent depression. I mean, certainly there are Psalms where David was depressed and fearful - and those have comforted me in times of trials past - but it's no small thing.

Today is good. God's mercies are new every morning. I will rejoice and be glad in this day that the Lord has made.






© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Rejust served

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Finding the Right Words

I just want to be understood.

This lifelong desire stems from so many different experiences I've had in life.

As a child, I was often told that my feelings were wrong. Unfortunately, as a child I didn't realize that feelings are not like facts and thus not so easily relegated into the right or wrong categories.

Then, there were all those times when I couldn't skillfully articulate just what was on my heart and used a word or two that completely changed the message I was trying to convey. I'm grateful that God gives us the Holy Spirit to correct this in our prayers to Him and that He knows EXACTLY what it is that I'm trying to spit out, but it doesn't always work that way when conversing with other humans.

I hate being perceived as something so contrary to that which I wish to be about. For example, I recently was told that someone close to me felt like I looked down on them because they didn't hold a degree, that this person thought I treated them as dumb and ignorant. It hurt me deeply to hear this - partly because that is so disparate from my values system, which is that we ALL have something to bring to the table of life regardless of our socioeconomic status, education (or lack thereof), religion, race, etc., but mostly because in this misunderstanding, another person was caused pain. I'm a lover not a fighter, and to cause others pain, however unintentionally, always grieves my soul.

Sometimes, this desire to be understood, and thus accepted by others and loved, manifests in a tendency to overshare. Sometimes I don't understand myself and share for the purpose of having another person weigh in. Related to my childhood admonitions that my feelings were so far off base, sometimes I share as a means of checking my reality.

But a sense of cautiousness has grown over the years. As I've tried to make sense of things on my blog these past few years my sharing has hurt those who are close to me. Unfortunately, as much as I've claimed it's about me and not them it hasn't helped.

So, I have been in a quandary lately about what to share, what not to share, and everything in between. The things that are big in my life right now, and likely to be written about, are probably not best to be shared on a blog as they concern my close relationships - and I'm trying to deal with that privately and avoid dishonoring someone I love by oversharing.




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Monday, August 31, 2009

Super Bawl Sunday

So, it's been 2 weeks since this happened - finally time to sit and write about it, eh? Also; any mention of voices in my head is regarding that inner turmoil that we ALL have in our thoughts - no auditory hallucinations for this girl, thank you for your concern.

Two weeks ago, we had just returned home from our short-lived camping trip. Both Charlie Brown and I briefly entertained the thought of not going to church in the morning, since we were supposed to be gone afterall. We decided that was just silly and ended up going.

Sidenote- in the weeks preceding this I'd been having lots of doubts about life. Doubts about our financial security, my mental health status, and the joint decision for me to stay at home among many other things. In chatting with girlfriends about these doubts, a few of them had suggested I maybe look for a PT job to help me regain some of my self-confidence as well as make a little extra cash for those daunting medical bills. And the juxtaposition of all the voices of these doubts with the tidbits of "helpful" advice was driving me to the edge.

Ok....so, back to church.

Our Sunday morning bible study this summer has been on Romans. The text for the day was Romans Ch. 8. As the teacher droned on about how an abstract was different from a book review (re: a handout that he'd thought was helpful to the study), Li'l Guy began to fuss and alert me to his growing hunger. So I took him into the "cry room" (a little private area for nursing moms) and fed him. While doing so, I halfheartedly listened to the teacher on the speaker. As the abstract v. book review discussion went longer, I grabbed my Blackberry out of the diaper bag and pulled up Romans 8 using the Youversion app (which I totally btw).

I read the whole chapter, the words not unfamiliar to me as Romans is probably the book I've read most in Scripture during my walk with the Lord; but towards the end my face grew hot and moist as the tears came down, for I read:
26 And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. 27 And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers[b] in harmony with God’s own will. 28 And we know that God causes everything to work together[c] for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them...

...35 Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? 36 (As the Scriptures say, “For your sake we are killed every day; we are being slaughtered like sheep.”[d]) 37 No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.
38 And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[e] neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.
I'd been feeling guilt about my silence in the dialogue between me and my God lately. Even knowing full well that this promise of an intercessor exists for those times when life gets so overwhelming, so full of other voices that I cannot find my own, beyond the simple gut-wrenching utterances of "Lord, please help me," despite knowing that, I was in a place where Guilt had begun to plague me, adding just one more voice in the cacophony that my mind had recently become. So irrational was this Guilt, bothering me over things of which I had no control - namely my getting sick. Yes, I know, like I could have prevented such an anomaly; the doctors still aren't quite sure how I came to be so ill.

Through this passage, God assured me. The Voice of Truth stilled the others and spoke, in solo: You are still my child, sweet girl. I have not abandoned you and I know you are overwhelmed right now. My Spirit is translating the woes on your heart and I am listening. NOTHING can ever change that. Keep going.

I was so thankful that I was physically alone, just my baby and I, in that room because I wept freely at the reassurance the moment had afforded me.

Later, the preacher's sermon (link opens an MP3 recording of the sermon if interested) was on Luke 5:1-11. Specifically, he focused in on how the men, professional fishers of their day, had fished ALL night and not caught anything yet Jesus told them to go out and launch their nets one more time. They did and the blessings (fish) were more than abundant, they almost sunk their boats! Perseverance, especially when all looks bleak, pays off, was the message in a nutshell.

Keep going.

The words, coupled with my moment in the cry room, were just what I needed to hear. Tears streamed down my face long before the conclusion of the sermon, as the realization hit me that it was no mere coincidence that our camping trip had gone south and caused us to return home early. How amazing is this Love that notes every detail of my life along with those of every other living being?

I knew I had to go forward at the invitation, to ask for the prayers of my family. But what most people didn't realize is that it wasn't a feeling of hopelessness that drove me to asking for help - rather, the hope and reassurance that God had given me that morning made me want to publicly recognize my need for Him in my life. We have been so blessed over the past several months with my rapid recovery, the help and support we received, and through things not yet revealed. Several people mistook my emotion as a cry for more help - but as I talked with them I assured them it was just a realization that I needed to keep going.

And how much good it does me to know that as a direct result another young mom shared her struggles with me that night. And then another. When a dear older sister e-mailed me the next day to see how I was doing, she mentioned "mom coaching," so I called her and asked if she would meet with some of us to pray and talk some things through. Not only would she, but she and a couple other more experienced sisters had been praying for such an opportunity in the spirit of this Scriptural example. Not because of me, but because of God.

Keep Going.




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, August 28, 2009

Fragmented Snippets and Linky Love

Oh my....

Friday Fragments?


So I have a post in my drafts folder , one of many right now, that I'm working on. It's titled Super Bawl Sunday (watch for it soon) as it is about how God totally met me where I was a couple of weeks ago, and it is crystal clear that He arranged a couple of "coincidences," for this little meeting to occur. Said meeting of me and my God caused a bit of a breakdown in an "I can't do this [on my own]" fashion. Said breakdown inspired other people in my life to share their struggles....and now I'm heading up the organization of a ladies prayer/mentoring group at my church right now. Amazing how God uses people to facilitate events that have a greater purpose than originally imagined.

My good friend Jen/Huckdoll recently re-entered SAHMhood also and has a post up that pretty much describes my blogging state too.

On Monday, I saw my lady doc to get some "hardware installed." Apparently so did Amanda at The Mom Job....her rendition suffices for now, LOL.

I got a new haircut - rather, it's not a new style for me but it's been awhile since I've sported this particular cut, almost a year - on Wednesday. My hairdresser said when it was done, "I like you so much better with short hair. I concur, even if Charlie Brown called me "butch." Oh, yeah....he did.

Been running/walking everyday for a week now. 50 minutes of activity minimum. Feeling increasingly good with this.

Hoping that all of the above might rekindle some of the fire between Charlie Brown and I. Things are a little quiet on that front right now and I am getting cranky about it.





© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Dear Hanes,

Yes, you Hanes, the underwear, socks and T-shirt company.

Ok, good - I and all of my 20 readers have your attention with that clarification.

So, uh, yeah....your new "wedgie free" undies? Let's talk 'bout that.

They feel great upon slipping them on.

They even stay put, as promised.

Er, sort of.

On a low-moderate activity, kickin' it at the house kind of day - A+.

While working out, when being wedgie free is an absolute must lest we get our lady parts all mixed up with sweat from other parts and other nastiness, ahem, Not. So. Much.

Might I suggest that you invest in Goody stay put headbands technology for your leg holes?

Seems like that might actually work.




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, August 21, 2009

Forget Fragmented Friday, How 'Bout Fragmented Life?

So, new drill here, remember? Yeah, I'm doing Mrs. 4444's Friday Fragments thing. Click thru the links for more info.

Friday Fragments?

***In reference to the title above, I feel fragmented and chaotic in my mind. I have started to write several times in my head but get interrupted or never have the time to finish the thought itself, let alone being able to process it by writing/talking about it.

***Li'l Guy covered some serious ground today by pseudo crawling (rather like an inchworm, he has yet to coordinate his arms). The dude is not even officially 4 mos old yet (Tuesday), and we are dealing with crawling???? Oy vey!

*** LMNOB and Punkinhead started school Weds. and I have still not posted pics. slacker! LMNOB seems to really like her teacher who is a rather hip young thing. This is good as LMNOB is excited for the year and has not been anxious and fit-throwing. Punkinhead, on the other hand, is not quite as enthused with first grade. Seems kindergarten was Much Better in his mind.

***I have been living a luke-warm life when it comes to my faith over the past several years. I'm trying to heat things up which means some serious Growing Pains. Charlie Brown has been experiencing the same thing over the past year and this is good, but can be quite exhausting seeing all the errors of your ways in a relatively short period of time. Dying to one's ego and living for Christ is no small task....truely no one ever conquers it on earth, but we still push forward, eh?

***I have exercised 3 mornings in a row now, with some good running even! I am determined to show how God has worked in my body - from being on death's doorstep 3 1/2 mos ago and unable to inhale more than 500 mL at a time (normal lung capacity is about 4+ times that) to being able to run is quite something!

***Well, bus is almost here and baby is crying.....




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, August 15, 2009

A Day Late and Several Dollars Short

So, all the cool kids do it....I figured I probably would too...if I can promise to get on regularly enough to participate in Mrs. 4444's Friday Fragments.


Friday Fragments?



So.... let's go.


**** Li'l Guy started rolling over last Saturday, at 3 1/2 mos. Since he's begun to roll, he now fancies a life of mobility and has been spotted getting on all fours and pushing with his legs - and has started making headway. He has yet to coordinate his arms, however, and I'm hoping full-fledged crawling will be at least another month away. Can you imagine?!?


**** I have yet to write up Li'l Guy's birth story and he is as mentioned above, pushing 4 months old. For shame.


**** I have been in a weird funk of late. It could be that I'm looking down the barrel of post-partum depression. Or dealing with a form of post-traumatic stress disorder on the heels of nearly dying. Or, switching to a different tense of conditions, it could be pre-menstrual syndrome. Good ole PMS. Wait, Heather, aren't you exclusively breastfeeding? I mean what with the whole 'I nursed Li'l Guy come hell or highwater' attitude while you were in the hospital - you are still nursing right? Ahh, yes, I am. And yet, I had not one, but two periods in July, 21 days apart. My OB/GYN had the nerve to call me "one of those lucky women," and I had the nerve not to slap her across the face. So, going off my mental state, I am right on schedule for another dousing of estrogen and such. Add to it just some general senses of failures as a Christian mother, and well... you know, a lot on my plate right now.


**** The older kids start school on Wednesday. I am both elated and yet oddly enough, given my complaints about the stresses of dealing with 2 school-aged siblings over the summer, saddened by this. On the one hand, ROUTINE!! On the other, well, uh, ROUTINE!!


**** In effort to do just one thing that we'd originally planned to do this summer, before I got sick, we went camping this weekend. 'Cept that we only ended up staying for just over 24 hours due to weather. Tent camping with 3 kiddos, one of whom is under 4 months, kind of requires perfect weather. And we got torrential rains with gusty winds last night/this morning. Our gear kept us warm and dry; however, being forced into the tent at 7:45 last night kind of pre-empted LMNOB's nighttime pee before bed. And despite her gear keeping her warm and dry, she herself did not. Yeeeeeah. She was a good sport about it, as were we - I mean, it was completely cruel of nature to expect her super teensy bladder to make it 10 hours without release - but her warm nighttime clothes were not re-wearable despite the fact that her bag (actually MY mummy bag) was virtually un-touched by her leakage. So, yeah, we packed up and we are now home sweet home.


**** As mentioned in the title, we are still reeling from sticker shock of my medical bills. Much tighter budget than we are used to, sometimes to the point of blind faith - thankfully God has always provided an AFLAC check, a love offering from church, or a side job for Charlie Brown at just the right times. God is so good to us, and yet I struggle with worrying still. I am learning, slowly, that Jesus meant what He said in Matthew 6:25-34. I should know this inside and out after the big crisis this summer, but unfortunately I am very much like the Israelites, who after seeing and walking through a parted Red Sea, who were fed DAILY with manna and quail (BTW...could you GET any more organic than sustenance from HEAVEN and an un-chemical-ed earth? How many of us would LOVE that now?!?!) and basically had every need met still worried and grumbled about the hard things they were going through. So....still learning. Still growing. Still a work in progress.





© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Doll Gets Fox News Health Team up in Arms

First of all, folks, it is a DOLL. A doll makes the news these days?

Oh it does if it is a breastfeeding doll, that apparently is the equivalent of:

"introducing sex education in first grade instead of seventh or eighth grade"
I have so many problems with this statement, let alone the more asinine claims by FOX News' Managing Health editor that a DOLL could possibly promote earlier pregnancies, or better yet, traumatize young girls.

First of all, breastfeeding is more about human nutrition than it is about human sexuality - but once again a man, a man with a conservative bias being that he works for FOX News, makes the topic all about sex. Sorry, Dr. Alvarez but you are part of the problem. So much work has been made to de-stigmatize breastfeeding, in public or otherwise, and you immediately play upon the fears of your conservative audience by saying essentially that anything breast-related = sexual promiscuity.

Second, any mother who has ever breastfed a baby with an older sibling has probably already seen their older child "nurse" their dolls. I have. It's not a new concept, you know, that children model their parents' behavior. I've even seen friends' older sons nurse a baby doll when their mothers have a nursing baby in the household. Does that mean they are going to be confused about their anatomy growing up? No, it's called imaginative play - something we seem to have forgotten about in this hysteria.

Third, unless I missed something, no one said ANYthing about this doll being used for educational purposes in a school setting, so how is it like introducing sex ed to a first grader? Moreover, why wouldn't you introduce some age appropriate sex education to your children at that age, or even earlier for that matter? I am not promoting a public-school campaign at that age, at all. Despite being conservative re: sexuality, I'm not a fan of school-based abstinence only programs as

...scientifically sound studies of abstinence only programs show an unintended consequence of unprotected sex at first intercourse and during later sexual activity. In this way, abstinence only programs increase the risk of these adolescents for pregnancy and sexually transmitted illnesses, including HIV/AIDS.
No, as a Christian believer I feel that it is *my* duty to educate my children about sex in an age-appropriate, biblical, and open fashion. It starts early, too, because if we don't establish an open conversation about sexual topics when they aren't embarrassed, what guarantee do we have that they'll approach us with their questions during the height of self-consciousness and doubt of parental authority? We've already read the first two books in the Story of Me series with LMNOB and Punkinhead, and they're not "traumatized." Nor are they displaying signs of wanting to run out and have sex/a baby at the first chance they can get.

But I digress....back to the breastfeeding babydoll. For me, the only thing I take issue with the manufacturer is the name. Bebe Gluton = Gluttonous Baby. WTH? Kind of a mixed message as breastfed babies tend to be smaller, and more self-regulating with regard to feeding only when hungry, than their formula-fed peers - but whatever, right?

And back to FOX News' article....the fact that they cite Eric Ruhalter's lame attempt at humor, equating a breastfeeding babydoll to something as inappropriate as babydolls dealing with alcoholism and/or incarceration, shows me that they are simply perpetuating the sexualization of breasts and stigmatizing any functional, natural usage of them, real or imagined.

It just drives me bonkers - this one or the other classification of breasts. They are functional, life sustaining, beautiful and sexual. As God created them to be.



© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, August 7, 2009

They Didn't Teach THIS in Anatomy Class!

Several years ago when Punkinhead was 18 mos or so, he started staying dry overnight. As I'd go to change his diaper every morning during this time, I would find two things:

1.) a dry diaper; and

2.) his little "soldier" standing at attention

It kind of creeped me out - me thinking it was some kind of weird Freudian mother-son thing going on. But later upon recounting this to Charlie Brown, he told me, "He's got morning wood because his bladder's full, duh." I HAD NO IDEA that male plumbing worked that way!!! But, ahh, that made a lot of sense, thinking back on patterns in our own bedroom. Hmmm...

Fast forward 4 1/2 years.....

The other morning Punkinhead came down the stairs FREAKING out about having an erection.

"Mama!! My weiner," and let me just interject here that I insist on the appropriate anatomical terms in our house, but Daddy tends toward the more slangy terminology, "my weiner, it's all big and going places that I don't want it to - it's going up instead of down!"

Then.

He completely drops trou and says, emphatically, "SEE?!?!"

It. Took. ALL. I had not to just bust up laughing at him, bless his little heart, and the irony of how now this concerned him and yet later in life....

Calmly, I nodded and said yes, sometimes a man's penis would do that, and that perhaps he just needed to go pee for it to go "back to normal."

Skeptically, he trudged up the stairs to the bathroom. Within minutes I heard him shouting from the stairs that I was a genius and IT WORKED!

If only he knew how ignorant I would have been if not for Charlie Brown's enlightenment several years ago.



© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

A New Level of Marital Miscommunications

So, Charlie Brown and I are pretty tech savvy, right?

Yesterday, I had a pretty crappy day. I was so stressed about medical bills vs. income we had coming. Compounding this stress was the fact that my hormones were flying high as I [TMI in aboout 3, 2, 1] was on day 2 of my second period since Lil Guy has been born. [Sidenote: I know you're thinking it - she's like what, 3 mos postpartum and she's had not one but two periods already?!? I KNOW!!!] I'd cried most of the night before and several times yesterday as well. Charlie Brown had called me a few times during the day, all of which I ended up crying during.

Later, I received the following texts from him, right in a row before I had a chance to respond. My thought responses are below, however. Prepare to be entertained

CB - Wanna play tonight? Only 2 conditions...

Indignantly, Uhmhm, I have now I have confirmation that the man never listens to a word I say! I told him that I am "otherwise incapacitated" this week.

CB- [I] know you can do all that, you like a challenge

:chuckles: ok, well, let's see just what he has up his sleeve, even if it's all for naught.

CB - 1. hour of 100% positive encouraging words and body language towards everybody on the field, 2. Doing what I tell you if I need to (prolly won't)

At this point I was stymied and automatically sent a text back to him:

RR - ????? Is this meant for me???

But upon further analysis, I had the following thoughts:

1. I know I've been down today, but c'mon don't you think I can pull myself together for your softball game? It's kind of sweet though. And 2. What kind of kinky stuff are you thinking about, anyway? Dang, boy!

Right about then, he called me. He says, "Our friend sent those to me, as conditions for subbing on their team tonight. It didn't show that it was a forwarded msg?"

Nope.

So I told him what had been going through my mind as I'd gotten each text, and he got a good laugh out of it.




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Friday, July 24, 2009

The Costs of Health Care, if You Can Call it That

I just opened yet another stack of medical bills and my spirits are struggling to stay up, to have faith in God's providence.

I KNOW that He has done so much for us already, but it's almost as if our health care system is gambling with God right now. Oh yeah, well I see your $5,500 raised by your churches and I'll raise you $8,800 plus the unknown of the pulmonology bill that has yet to come. Or something like that, as I'm not a gambler.

And let's not forget that the state of Colorado wrote off a great portion of our hospital debt - like $65k worth of a $68k bill - through the Colorado Indigent Care Program. Thanks be to God, because without that we'd be in financial ruin right now. But here's the rub, and one that especially grates at my husband's ego as well as those of many others who qualify for CICP: we are not "indigent" by definition of the word:

in⋅di⋅gent [in-di-juhnt]
–adjective
1.lacking food, clothing, and other necessities of life because of poverty; needy; poor; impoverished.
2.Archaic.
a.deficient in what is requisite.
b.destitute (usually fol. by of).
Rather, my husband happens to be a hard-working man who works 50+ hours/week at a physically demanding job making pretty good money for our area. His employers offer health insurance, and we had it after I quit my job with the city for Lil Guy's prenatal care through his birth. However, the premium was scheduled to go up, again, s of May 1, 2009. To $880/month for our family, with a $5,000/person deductible, and then 60%/40% co-insurance after the deductible. Max out of pocket expenses in a year was $20k. Now, I don't know about you, but to pay virtually another mortgage payment every month so that I was assured that I wouldn't have to pay more than the $20k that I don't have sitting around for medical expenses didn't quite fly with me. We'd already downsized our income to have me be at home with the kids, and couldn't really afford this blow either.

But, rather than be irresponsible and have NO insurance at all, we knew that we needed to look for a plan B. So we found an independent broker and got our own health plan, then terminated Charlie Brown's before it renewed on those awful terms.

The only problem was that we had a 2 week gap.

And I happened to get deathly ill in that 2 week gap. Just 4 more days and we would have made it.

I'm grateful that CICP exists, don't get me wrong. But it's not enough. Thankfully God has supplemented us with the contributions from our church.

And I'm angry that people removed from these kinds of struggles are pitching a fit about health care reform - because this kind of thing happens EVERY DAY in America. I'm angry that people who work hard every day are being bankrupted because of medical expenses. I'm angry when I hear health care workers complaining that they have to do more with less - because really, what industry ISN'T being told that right now? Health care costs are TOO high. Particularly the insurance part.

I don't know that government insurance is the answer necessarily, because I haven't read up enough on the policy specifics to know what the bottom line is for taxpayers. And because quite honestly, where would the money for it come from? We are already tapped out fiscally as a country and if we just continue to spend our dollars will soon become as worthless as the German Marks did during the Great Depression.

But those naysayers who don't even want to have the conversations about doing something, anything, bother me. That's all I'm saying. I think.





© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

When God's Love IS the Church

Recently I read a book called “The Shack.” The story centers on a man named Mack and a weekend he spends with God, manifest as the Trinity. Without giving the plotline away, or even endorsing the book for that matter, [another post, coming up] I wanted to share a part of the book that touched me in light of my recent health struggles. Mack is talking with Jesus about the church, to which Jesus has just referred as “the woman I’m in love with.”
Mack paused, searching for the right words. “You’re talking about the church as this woman you’re in love with; I’m pretty sure I haven’t met her.” He turned away slightly. “She’s not the place I go to on Sundays,” Mack said more to himself, unsure if that was safe to say out loud.
Mack, not unlike a lot of people – churched or unchurched – hasn’t seen love in action that is in keeping with the Scriptures’ examples of what the church should be. So widespread is this problem that Christian band Casting Crowns even has a song called “If We Are the Body,” begging the questions:

But if we are the Body
Why aren't His arms reaching
Why aren't His hands healing
Why aren't His words teaching
And if we are the Body Why aren't His feet going
Why is His love not showing them there is a way
There is a way

But I have no question in my mind whether God’s Spirit is moving at our church. Over the years, we have seen prayer vigils for the gravely ill, outreach to families who’ve lost children, and so much more. And yet, while we see these things and know that our family is one ruled by Love – that is, Christ himself – it doesn’t seem to make as deep of an impact until one experiences it personally.

From the very beginning of our ordeal I called out to my church family, knowing I could count on our congregation. Thinking my pain was related to nerves, I asked for a ride to and from my chiropractor. And within a short time I received “feet,” or wheels rather, that were willing to go with me.

Later, after being rushed to the hospital via ambulance, our church secretary worked tirelessly as our mouth and ears, communicating our needs to the body on a regular basis. In response to these reports, we had an amazing fleet of prayer warriors calling to the throne for us, as well as countless “angels” who voluntarily cared for Lil Guy at hours during which most of us prefer to sleep. Many of said “angels” volunteered on multiple nights, too. These actions didn’t just minister to us, but to so many working at the hospital as well.

But it didn’t stop there. Many of our congregation prepared meals for us upon my release from the hospital. Others helped around the house while I was incapacitated. Still others transported me to and from doctor visits. A few took the older kids on playdates, which provided a break from their stress and was so invaluable for them!

Financially – I can’t even begin to write about this without tearing up – despite massive write-offs from a hospital program, we still wound up with several sizeable bills, not to mention the loss of Charlie Brown’s wages as he took time off. The generous donations from the people of our church to help offset these shortfalls have totaled in the thousands! Added to it was an unexpected, rather significant contribution from the church of Christ in Craig. God’s love and provision have been proven to us over and over throughout this trial, and mostly through the actions of His people.

In an e-mail I sent to our church in June, I wrote the following:

Throughout this whole ordeal I kept reflecting on Philippians 4:13, and I now have a new take on this special verse. You all were [are] the body of Christ – his hands to prepare meals and his feet to run errands, his ears to listen, his shoulders to lean upon and find comfort, and so much more. Now when I read, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” I think of Christ in totality, not just the Savior who died for me but the people who make up his body here on earth today as well.

When Charlie Brown and I think about the church’s role during this entire experience, the love and support is overwhelming. We are forever grateful. For ALL of it. Words cannot express the depth of our thanks for the help we have received.

We hope that we are able to return the favor several times over to our brothers in sisters in the future. Moreover, we plan on sharing our story with the Macks in our lives so they may see that God’s Love is working right here in under our very noses.





© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, July 18, 2009

When Going Through The Motions Doesn't Quite Cut the Mustard

The transition from pregnancy to having a new family member has never been an easy one for me and Charlie Brown.

With LMNOB we were so terribly young in both chronological age and our spiritual maturity. Charlie Brown had a habitual sin in his life that had plagued him from early adolescence into his adulthood, making our already formidable passage from newlyweds to Surprise! You're-New-Parents that much more difficult. Add a dash of my depressive tendencies and a shake of financial woes and we were doomed from the get go, right?

Apparently not, because things got better, slowly, and not too long after LMNOB we felt like we could face this transition again, albeit on a more planned basis. I didn't have nearly the depression issues with Punkinhead that I'd had with LMNOB, but the demands of parenting a pre-term newborn with an often trying toddler (now we know that her "difficult" and "stubborn" behaviors were mostly attributable to her sensory integration problems, but at the time, not so much) made his babyhood a hard time for me, as well as for Charlie Brown because again his sin came into the light. Sparing a lot of details, suffice to say that this go round was especially tough for me and went on for years. We went to counseling, did Dynamic Marriage, I had another depressive episode and finally, the struggle culminated [for me] when I ended up having an equally sinful emotional affair with another man. Fortunately, as I got further and further into my fantasy land with this man who made me feel so good, God humbled me to the point of repentance when it became clear that my "affair" was all in my mind and quite unrequited. This prompted a lot of soul searching for me over the course of 2006 and 2007 (leading to the creation of this blog) and late 2007 and early 2008 was a monumental healing period for us.

So much so that a year ago we began a huge journey of faith together and decided to try for another baby. When we began talking about it I expressly mentioned my fear of the post-partum transition, noting that while we'd both grown and matured since the last time, that while the habitual sin seemed finally conquered, PRAISE GOD!, and discussable [as opposed to something that was unmentionable even when only tempted and not actually something in which he was indulging], I knew that Satan likes to sneak in through any cracks of the armor so to speak, and I was scared of that. I was scared of this period more than I was scared of the financial repercussions of me quitting my job to stay at home with the kids. I was scared of this transition more than I was of sacrificing my independence and sense of self-identity. Charlie Brown assured me that things would be different, that they already WERE different this time.

And I trusted that. I trusted him, but more importantly, I trusted Him. I believed that God would see us through and victory would be had for His glory.

I still believe that. However, I'm realizing that it's taking work to keep out of that danger zone. That in order to bring God glory in this situation, we are still accountable to making the right choices. That going through the motions each day is not the same thing as living with purpose and connection. And just this morning, a situation arose that triggered some of these old feelings for me, indicating that Charlie Brown and I need a good, honest check-in with each other. I can't let this become an elephant in the room and dance around it on tiptoes. We are called to be like iron sharpening iron and that is necessary for us right now.




© 2009 Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved