Miscellaneous From Missy

Defeated by iTunes

2008-07-03T12:06:00.002-06:00

For my birthday, Jeremy gave me an iPod. Do you have any idea how I have been longing for an iPod? I have thousands of tapes that I want to transfer to an iPod.

Yes, I said tapes. Jeremy laughed at me when he realized I own two boxes full of tapes, fifteen record albums and only nine CD's. The CD's I can easily burn onto the computer and then install into my iPod, but the tapes and the record albums I haven't figured out yet.

So I'm surfing around on iTunes, because there are millions of soundtracks that I want to buy. But somehow, I can't seem to find any of them. Either I am REALLY old, or REALLY pregnant.

Maybe both.

Help me out here. If I want to type in the name of an entire soundtrack and search for it, how can I do that? It's only letting me search for songs.

The Present of Presence

2008-07-02T13:00:00.005-06:00

My fingers hover over the keys. I know what I want to say, but I struggle still to put in all into words.

I suppose I could just start at the beginning.

Jeremy and I were married five years ago this month. (Woo-hoo!) And for most of that time, Jeremy has worked from 4:30 PM to 3:30 AM with lots of overtime and weekends thrown in randomly. His body has not been able to switch from "night shift" to "day shift" over the weekends like some people's bodies can. Therefore, he and I have seen each other every Saturday afternoon and every Sunday afternoon for the last almost five years.

I won't lie to you. It has been lonely. And hard.

And when Kimmie came to live with us, and after Liberty was born, it became exceedingly difficult.

I begged God to put Jeremy on days. I pleaded with Him. I persuaded Him. I bowed to His sovereign will and experienced joyful peace. I became angry and bitter. I shut Him completely out of my life for about five months straight. I repented and realized God is good. Always. Even when I can't see the good. Over and over I cycled through emotional feelings versus reality and truth. In five years, I have not seen God move in this area. I have not heard Him speak.

Part of me has given up hope. But then I evaluate that sentence and all that it entails, and I think, no, I haven't given up hope...so then what is that feeling? Submission? Resignation? Peace? Endurance?

I still hope for a day-shift job for Jeremy. I still long to live with my husband. I see the family across the street: a mom, a dad and two little girls who work in their yard together, go for walks in the neighborhood together, ride their bikes together, and I want that so badly it hurts inside. The commandment not to covet my neighbor's life jumps into my heart and I tell God, "I don't want to covet their lifestyle. I'm not trying to sin. In fact, I'm trying very hard NOT to sin in this area. But the truth is, You have given them exactly what I want. So I need You to grow inside me until You alone are enough. Until there is no room left for other desires."

Like I said, this is a struggle. Some days God and I are winning, and some days we are losing. In thinking back, I will say that for the most part, God and I win more often than we lose. This is especially true more recently than it was a while ago, and I am thankful to God for that reality.

However, about a month or so ago, in my prayer journal, I spelled out my heart's desire to my God, my Daddy. He already knew it. We had already discussed it in detail. But you know me...I have to write. So I wrote. I described my pain, my anger, my longing for a right relationship with Him as well as my longing for a more detailed relationship with my husband. I believe those two desires can and should go hand in hand. They are not mutually exclusive. I told God how overwhelmed I felt from constantly making the household decisions, from being the primary and almost only care-giver to our children, from trying to survive the end of this pregnancy completely on my own.

I cried.

I described.

I worshipped.

I submitted.

I left it in His hands.

In short, I did the same thing that I have done repeatedly over the past five years. Nothing different.

A few days later, Jeremy's manager called him into his office and told him that he would be on day-shift at work until our baby was born. (Not because of the baby, but because of circumstances at work.) That was three weeks ago.

Jeremy has been on day-shift for three weeks! Three wonderful, blissful, incredible weeks!

Do you know why I haven't mentioned it?

Because part of me is still in awe over the wonderfulness of God. Part of me is afraid that if I talk about it, it might disappear. Part of me couldn't find the words to describe how great it feels to have him home, to have him lead, to have him make decisions, to have him help me, to have him rub my back at night and force me to put my feet up during the day, to have him chase Liberty, to have him answer Kimmie, to have him be my MAN. I love watching him love our daughters. I cannot describe that feeling. Kimmie is happier. Liberty is happier. I am happier. And really, we weren't sad before (although everything I wrote prior to this paragraph has seemed like we were). There is a completely different feeling in our house. Maybe all of us girls needed some testosterone floating around. Who knows?

But I am telling you, I am thankful.

According to the plan, Jeremy may be back on night shift for next week only, and he is scheduled to go back to night shift after the baby is born. But I want to shout from the top of the world,

THANK YOU, GOD, FOR GIVING ME THIS PRESENT. A MONTH AND A HALF WITH MY HUSBAND. AMAZING!

He Needs A Cape

2008-06-30T11:08:00.003-06:00

My daughter has a hero.

This weekend, Liberty followed her hero wherever he went. His name flew from her lips repeatedly, "Daddy! Daddy!" If he sat down, she climbed onto his lap. If he walked into another room, she followed closely on his heels. When he switched directions, she whirled around, fell over, picked herself up and trotted after him.

Daddy cleaned out the garage this weekend and pushed his to-be-restored 1983 Camaro into the driveway. He talked about washing the car, and Liberty dragged out the bucket and sponges necessary to complete the task. Daddy pulled the garden hose over to the driveway and began spraying his beloved machine. In her pink and green sun-suit, Liberty followed directly behind. When the wind blew droplets of water onto her skin, she squealed and ran away laughing, then quickly returned for more, her little blond curls bouncing as she ran. Liberty kept Daddy supplied with fresh, soapy sponges, and scattered bubbles delightedly in between sponge deliveries.

When Daddy walked to the other side of the car, Liberty walked to the other side of the car. When Daddy backed up suddenly, Liberty got stepped on. But that did not deter her from her hero-worship!

I really can't blame her. He makes my heart go pitter-patter, too!

Water Features

2008-06-26T09:18:00.004-06:00

Yesterday was HOT. Ninety-five degrees hot, to be exact, and I told Liberty she could swim when we got home. We walked into the blessedly cool house, but when I opened the shades on the back patio doors, I realized Liberty would not be swimming for a while.

A largish, pure white bird was sitting in our kiddie pool.

I stared at it for a moment, trying to classify it in my mind. It was about the size and shape of a pigeon. Ruffled feathers and a strange bump on it's beak made me hesitate to call it pretty. It must have been residing in our pool for most of the day; multiple bird droppings marred the liner at the bottom of the pool, and small floating feathers and crud swirled around the surface of the water.

Liberty and I pulled up a dining room chair and discussed the bird for several minutes. I slowly wrapped my mind around the task ahead: empty, scrub, disinfect...and even then, I wasn't sure that I would let Liberty swim in that pool again. I pondered the power of bleach, all the while dreading the energy required to bend over my enormous belly-bump AND keep Liberty away from the pool AND work in the 95 degree sunshine. Finally, Liberty insisted on going out. I hesitantly opened the door, ready to grab her back if she appeared too close to jumping into the contaminated water.

I expected the bird to fly away in a flurry of feathers and rushing noises, and I prepared myself not to flinch. (I am scared of birds...blame Alfred Hitchcock.) Instead, the bird just stared as we slowly slid the patio door open. Liberty squealed and ran onto the deck. The bird just stared. "Hi!" Liberty proclaimed to her new friend, and she ran over to the pool. The bird looked very nervous and poised for flight but remained in place, just staring. The two of them were less than two feet apart, and my warning radar jumped into full alert mode. Birds SHOULD be afraid of people. Birds SHOULD fly away immediately, and it scared me that this one did not. I pulled Liberty back inside amidst much protesting.

I sat back down at the patio doors, and watched The Bird. That's when I noticed the blue rubber band around one of his orange legs and the white band with tiny marks around his other leg. I decided to call a wildlife preserve a few miles away from our house. Rick answered the phone. After I described The Bird, he thought it might be a homing pigeon or a carrier pigeon.

A Carrier Pigeon! For the tiniest fraction of a moment, I considered checking that white band around his leg to see if a secret message was being carried by The Bird. My adventure radar (and imagination) were in full bloom. But my fear quickly tackled that thought and shut it down. America could be taken over by terrorists, and I would not lift one finger to stop them as long as they used birds to frighten me into submission. (Unless I had a gun.)

I'm sorry! Birds scare me. I enjoy them from a distance or with a protective barrier in place, but too close is entirely too close. When I was about ten, I watched a group of blue jays peck my brother's skull repeatedly until he ran into the house crying. And this was my tough brother. And he hadn't done anything to them.

Rick then asked the unthinkable. "Why don't you go out there and tell me what the markings on the white band say?"

"Uh. NO. Can't you come out here and do that yourself?"

"Wal," he drawled, "I could, but I would have to charge you for it."

"Oh." He didn't seem very interested in the possibility of a rare and glorious creature being recaptured and put back into it's natural environment. I hung up with nothing accomplished. I flipped through the phone book some more. Then I called the local animal clinic.

My new best friend Bev was enthusiastic about the whole situation and eagerly peppered me with questions over the phone. I just as enthusiastically answered them, thrilled to finally have someone who seemed as excited about this fun happening as I was. She decided it was probably a dove released at a wedding and lost. With this new insight, I examined The Bird again...through the patio doors. "Is it a dove?" she asked.

"I don't know. I always pictured doves as prettier than this. But maybe." The odd bump on the beak and the out-of-place feathers gave it a scraggly appearance. Then I noticed the strange dark markings on the chest. It looked like a spatter of mud or blood had hit The Bird squarely in the center of it's chest and then leaked in irregular lines down the front of its body. I strained to get a better look. I told Bev about it. "I wonder if it might be hurt." Small stirrings of sympathy struggled to slip free in my heart.

Bev and I chatted in some detail for a while, but she could not leave her clinic, and I was not about to collect The Bird and take it to her. She suggested I call the state wildlife department. I did. They were closed. She suggested I call the police. I did. They didn't plan to come out to see a bird...not even if it could have been a jailbird. (I'm so funny.)

Bev and I hung up, and I continued gazing out the window at the motionless bird standing in our pool.

Jeremy came home. I excitedly informed him of The Bird trapping us in our house. He wanted me to leave the window and begin making supper. I explained to him why that would be physically impossible. "But I can't watch him if I'm making supper. That would require me to step away from the window."

"Is he doing anything?" Jeremy asked.

"No."

"Has he done anything in the entire time that you've been staring?"

"No."

"Then you probably won't miss anything if you decide to make supper." He pointed out so logically. I sighed and left the window.

For 23 seconds.

I couldn't help it. I was drawn to The Bird. Even Liberty had stopped being fascinated long before this and gone to the living room to play with her toys. Why couldn't I?

I forced myself to stay by Jeremy's side as we prepared supper, but every so often I would make a quick dash over to the glass doors to check on Fred.

I had to leave the house to pick Kimmie up from work several hours later, and on the way home, I told her all about our new pet Fred. We eagerly ran to the patio doors as soon as we got home to check on him.

But he was gone.

I checked the yard, my body in a permanent ducking position in case he dive-beaked me from the sky. But it looked as though Fred had flown the coop.

Now, I just have to deal with his poop.

Maybe I'll buy a new pool.

My Mini-Vacation

2008-06-23T12:25:00.002-06:00

After that horrid post on Thursday, I took a deep breath and decided to claim a vacation day for Friday...which was also Jeremy's 30th birthday!!!!

We began the day just like any other ordinary day...in the hospital. (Don't worry. I wrote that just for shock value. I was at the hospital for an ultrasound. Hee-hee! My sugar level has been up and down at odd times, and my doctor wanted an ultrasound run to be sure that the baby was doing okay.)

My technician was named Donna, and she began telling me about her recently deceased husband. She was so sad. She revealed memory after memory as we explored the interior of my tummy, and we cried together there in the darkened room behind the curtain. While we cried, I prayed that God would use me to comfort her somehow, and I believe she just needed someone to talk with, to listen to her. While I am still very sad for her, I really enjoyed our time of story-telling and memory-sharing. Her husband sounds like he was a fun-loving man, and her stories made me smile through my tears.

My baby is due on her husband's birthday, and I am glad to share it with him. It's more special that way.

After the ultrasound, we dropped my van off for an oil change, and to our delighted surprise the shop gave us a loaner car with a FULL GAS TANK!!!! We stared at each other gleefully, and Jeremy announced, "Let's go to Des Moines!"

The sunny day, bright blue sky, beautiful temperatures and happily singing birds all encouraged us on our journey. I settled deeply into the luxurious passenger seat and snored away as Jeremy piloted us down the road.

Our first stop was Barnes & Noble to return a purchased book that did not live up to its cover. This provided us with an in-store credit that burned a hole in my pocket immediately. I haven't mentioned this before, but I've been testing my blood sugar twice a day for the past week, and the levels have been great! So I decided to reward myself at the Starbucks in Barnes & Noble. I marched happily towards the counter with my in-store credit card waving high above my head.

"I want something with lots of chocolate and caramel in it! Iced!" I proclaimed to the barrista. She laughed and pointed out a couple options. I chose one, and then hesitated. "Um, do you happen to know the nutritional information on that drink?" Inwardly, I sighed at myself. I knew that I didn't want to know the real answer. She pulled out the paper bearing the information. I fainted dead away in complete shock. There were enough carbs in that one drink to eat up my allowance for lunch and supper together!

"Oh. Nevermind."

She must have taken pity on me because she valiantly flipped through her nutritional info book, pouring over page after page of drinks, trying to find one that didn't use up so many of my valuable carbs. Fifteen minutes later, I decided to try a strawberry lemonade.

Because that page was missing from her book.

And it sounded less carb-ful to me.

I hope it was.

Anyway, it was good!

Jeremy and I continued on our adventure into the mall, and I felt my body relaxing as we held hands and laughed our way through the stores. I marveled at the lack of responsibility I felt. My shoulder muscles un-tensed. I sighed happily, reveling in the freedom.

After purchasing a few items for him, we decided to find a place for lunch. On the way to the mall, we had passed a new restaurant called Johnny's Italian Steakhouse. It looked fancy. So we decided to check it out. The darkened lobby and thick carpeting informed us right away that this was no ordinary eating establishment. The prices on the menu resting casually at the "Please Wait To Be Seated" podium quickly confirmed that this was no ordinary eating establishment.

We fled. Quickly. Before a host could captured us and wrestle us to a table.

Instead, we dined at Red Robin, where I further ruined my diet by sharing onion rings with Jeremy before finishing off the fries that came with my meal.

And boy, was it worth it!

I had forgotten how good food could taste!

I did, however, NOT eat any of the rest of my meal in an effort to reduce the damage I was probably causing to my blood sugar.

I took it home in a doggie bag and ate it for supper.

It was good.

We stopped at a swimming pool store to look into buying a pool for our yard. Yeah. The prices were a bit steep. We gazed longingly at the sparkly water and the refreshing blue promise of coolness. And a sudden sharp pain stabbed my abdomen. I gasped and stumbled backwards. Another knife-thrust knocked me into a nearby seat. I sat, quietly enduring, while a saleswoman explained the benefits of a new pool to us, but when I attempted to rise from the seat, my grimace triggered her concern. With Jeremy helping me, I staggered to the car, all the while evaluating my pains. They didn't feel like contractions. At least, not like anything I had experienced with Liberty.

The pains continued most of Friday evening and intermittently throughout Saturday. But my newly relaxed attitude and muscles prevented me from being too concerned. The family spent a casual Saturday together. We celebrated Jeremy's birthday. Kimmie bought him a new shirt. I bought him a MANLY GRILLING COOKBOOK. A manly one.

Sunday continued with more of the relaxed feeling, and a couple stabs of pain to the abdomen in the morning to keep me aware. We emptied and scrubbed Liberty's kiddie pool, then re-filled it. I sat in it and enjoyed the sparkly water and relaxing blue coolness while Kimmie and Liberty ran and splashed. Jeremy stood on the back deck and watched from a careful distance after Kimmie "accidentally" splashed him.

That evening, we explored some dirt roads that we had never traveled before. We examined peaceful looking farmhouses and pastures waving with wildflowers. The wind pushed our hair back from our faces and off of our necks. The sun kissed our cheeks. Even later, we walked around our neighborhood. Liberty collected pretty-looking rocks from the sides of the road. She ran in ovals around us as we strolled. She laughed in sheer joy, a delighted sound bubbling from her lips. We laughed with her.

At home again with Liberty in bed, I made brownies for Jeremy to take to work. We tasted them to be sure they were not poisoned. I ignored my sugar tester. Then we watched "The Bridge to Terabithia" which Kimmie had borrowed from the library.

I closed my eyes in sleep on a soft bed and a newly laundered summer bedspread courtesy of my husband who dug it out of storage and washed it prior to putting it on our bed.

All good things must come to an end, but this good thing -- this mini-vacation -- has given me enough happiness and relaxation to help me face the next month or so.

James 1:17 - "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."

PS> Only 31 days until the baby comes!

Slumped

2008-06-19T12:57:00.002-06:00

I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel tired and worn out, discouraged. I am ready to stop being pregnant. I'm tired of feeling sick; I'm tired of being slow. I'm getting impatient to meet my baby, but I'm also dreading adding another little responsibility to my crowded days.

I just want to yell loudly at somebody and then cry like the world has ended.

Or better yet, I would like to go on vacation to a beautiful deserted island where I can laze around in a hammock all day and sip icy lemonade from a pretty glass. Where I can have servants (so much for the deserted island) who bring me delicious food, and I don't have to worry about the sugar or the carbs involved. Where I can read books and write stories all day or all night until my brain is finally relaxed. Where I can find some peace and quiet without running after a tantrum-throwing two year old, or arguing with a teenager who knows everything there can possibly be to know in this world. I don't want to move or think or talk until I'm all sorted out inside.

There is no reason for these strange feelings that I can tell. Other than hormones, I guess.

Nasty little hormones!

Pioneer Girls

2008-06-16T10:05:00.003-06:00

For his Father's Day feast, Jeremy requested roast, green bean casserole and corn on the cob. I popped the roast into the crock pot early in the day, and just before supper time, I began creating the green bean casserole. Kimmie sat at the dining room table to shuck the corn, and Liberty crept closely up to Kimmie, fascinated by the shucking process. After a short time, Kimmie lifted Liberty into a nearby chair and handed her an ear of corn to shuck. She showed her how to pull the leaves away from the cob, and Liberty delightedly went to work. She finally finished her first ear of corn at the same time that Kimmie finished all the rest of the ears.

From time to time, I glanced up from my casserole making just to drink in the picture of my two pioneer girls shucking corn side by side at the dining room table, the afternoon sun lighting their happy faces through the nearby patio doors. A peaceful and happy scene that still makes my heart smile in memory.

Once the shucking was finished, Liberty attempted to eat her newly naked corn. Kimmie quickly guided it from her lips and interested her in the tiny silky threads still entwined in the kernels. While Liberty pulled the threads, I handed Kimmie the cleaver and asked her to divide each corn cob in half. Now, Kimmie has a healthy fear of knives, especially one as cool-looking as the cleaver. So with her thumb and pointer finger she gingerly held the end of a cob, and with her other hand, she gently tapped the cleaver onto the corn.

Nothing happened.

She tried again.

Still no results.

I smiled and told her, "You've got to be the boss of it!" Then I took a cob and showed her the violent action required to chop that thing in half.

She took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll try it, " she whispered with grim determination. She gingerly held the corn again and told Liberty to watch out. She raised that cleaver high over her head, until I was even scared that it would come down in the wrong place. She chopped quickly down, and the corn separated and flew in two directions, spinning to the opposite ends of the table. Random kernels flew up in the aftermath, bathing Kimmie, Liberty and the wall behind them. Liberty's first shocked expression dissolved into giggles of glee, and Kimmie grinned broadly.

She grabbed another corn cob and repeated the process. This time, Liberty almost fell off her chair from laughing so hard. Kimmie and I joined her. The laughter was so contagious! This process was repeated for each ear of corn, and the three of us were almost helpless with mirth by the time all the ears were divided.

I plopped all of the corn cobs into a pan of boiling water, and watched as Kimmie cleaned up the table, the wall, Liberty and herself. And I wished for a video camera to capture this memory forever.

Experimentation

2008-06-13T10:59:00.002-06:00

I feel like a lab rat that has been poked and prodded and sleep deprived and food deprived so that scientists can learn what NOT to do to a lab rat.

My lovely little daughter, Liberty, who is not yet two has been sleeping just fine in her big girl bed for over a month now. But this week, she decided the big girl bed is not for her. She gave it a fair shot, and that bed just doesn't work out. Instead, she prefers to throw her body violently against the closed bedroom door while screaming as though a vital organ were dangling from her abdomen. Because, you know, it is so much more pleasant to spend your nights and evenings practicing to be in a horror movie than it is to loll lazily against fresh-smelling sheets while a gentle fan-created breeze blows over you.

Since Monday, I have tried everything imaginable to get her to go back to bed, to stay in bed, to fall asleep, to just be quiet, but NOTHING works. On Wednesday, I slept a total of three hours, and on Thursday, I had glimpses of sleep in ten minute stretches at a time until 5:30 in the morning when Jeremy took over. I do now know what he did, but after all the screaming I had endured over the past four nights, the silence from her room was eerie enough to prevent me from sleeping. There is nothing more frustrating than NOT sleeping at 5:30 in the morning when you haven't gotten any sleep to speak of during the previous four nights.

On top of my sleep deprivation, the new gestational diabetes diet is wreaking havoc on my normally sweet and wonderful personality. (See my halo?) Who knew that carbs were in so many foods? Who knew that carb withdrawal could create homicidal tendencies in a person? Who knew that carb withdrawal + sleep deprivation could create a mental imbalance that prevents the curbing of those homicidal tendencies?

Huh. They say you learn something new everyday. I'm just getting my quota of knowledge, I guess.

Please Pray

2008-06-12T11:05:00.000-06:00

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25107608?GT1=43001

Evacuate!

2008-06-11T09:36:00.004-06:00

Our friends were told yesterday to evacuate their house due to flooding, so our church has a group there all day today moving all of their things into various storage places around town. Many families have volunteered spots where our friends can keep their things for the next three months. I'm so thankful to belong to a church like this where people immediately drop their own plans to get involved in the lives of each other.

I tried to imagine three months of living in various homes that weren't my own. That could provide lots of partying fun! And lots of stress. I'm hoping to help them make it fun!

Our next door neighbors dragged their brand new basement carpeting out into the backyard a couple days ago to help it dry out. Ironically, that carpeting has now been rained on many, many times and is even wetter now than it was when they brought it out to dry. Kelly said, "Oh well, it's not coming back in until it's dry."

Yeah, that's going to be out there a while.

Our sump-pump has been running non-stop, and I toured the perimeter of our home yesterday afternoon. We have about eight inches of standing water up against our foundation. I wonder how long our dry basement will last?

Road closures all over town are forcing businesses to close, and I'm waiting for our little creek to overflow. We only have one road to get to and from our house. I hope I'm home (with plenty of food and the entire family) when the creek crosses the road. Woo-hoo! Bring on the party!

That's It; I'm Building An Ark

2008-06-10T13:22:00.006-06:00

You've probably heard all about our flooding on the news. It has rained for three weeks straight. During the day, it is beautiful, hot, sunny, swimming weather, but at night Mr. Hyde comes out to rain on our parade. Only, he doesn't just rain, he violently throws hail and fierce winds and torrential downpours at us. One morning, the radio informed me that we had received two inches of rain in ten minutes' time. Two nights ago, our (heavy) grill and deck chair were pushed into our pool.

Last night, I heard our house blowing apart bit by bit, and I got up to investigate. After turning the outside light on, I watched beautiful hailstones slam into our patio doors. I checked on Liberty, sure that the concert-level decibels would wake her up. She slept blissfully unaware, her arms thrown up over her head, and her tousled blond curls and little red cheeks healthfully shining in the semi-darkness. I checked Kimmie's room, only to find an empty bed. I quietly called her name as I searched the house. I saved the basement for last, fully expecting to find her anxiously watching the TV screen for tornado warnings, but when I reached the basement, she was not in sight.

"Kimmie?" I called quietly, for the first time beginning to wonder what might have happened to her. No answer. "Kimmie?" I repeated, louder this time, and I turned to go back up the stairs. A scraping noise to my right whirled my body quickly around. Kimmie's form loomed out of the darkness setting my heart pounding.

She smiled sheepishly at me while I recovered.

She had been hiding from the storm behind some storage boxes in the basement. I coaxed her into returning to her bedroom, and she reluctantly climbed the stairs with me. Before going back to bed, she and I sat at the patio doors and watched the ice fall from the sky. The light on the porch shone through each hailstone as it passed, casting quick shimmers of color into our eyes. The beauty-lover in Kimmie awoke, and she was able to go back to bed feeling better about the storm.

Until thirty minutes later when she pounded on my door, waking me up to ask about the "strange orange figure in the sky."

Let the Count-Down Begin!

2008-06-09T12:12:00.003-06:00

Lately I've been struggling for coherency. Which is why I've been posting surveys and memes instead of really writing. My thoughts are so jumbled. I don't even know what they're jumbled about.

I'm even struggling to put complete sentences together now. I re-read what I've written, and I wonder, does that sound right?

I guess it's the baby, but this is really getting ridiculous.

Only 45 days till I get to meet my little brain-eater!

By the way, I have the most awesome husband in the world, in case you didn't already know that. He helped me get all the baby clothes sorted and put in place yesterday. He helped me pack the hospital bag yesterday.

And most importantly, he rubbed my back last night! Mmmmmm! He loves me! :-)

Q&A

2008-06-06T11:55:00.002-06:00

1. Do you like blue cheese salad dressing? Oh yes! Especially mixed with French dressing.

2. Have you ever smoked heroin? I thought the question said, "Have you ever HAD smoked herring?" I thought long and hard about whether I had or not. Then I read the question again and realized it was a drug. Um, no.

3. Do you own a gun? Several. They are mainly bright green or bright pink and filled with water. I use them in the summer time, or if I'm feeling especially mean, in the winter time. "Heh-heh-heh! Come here, little kiddies. Just a bit closer..."

4. What's your favorite drink at Starbucks? Something without coffee and with lots of chocolate or caramel.

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? No, I actually enjoy doctor appointments. That's odd, I suppose.

6. What do you think of hot dogs? Not much.

7. Favorite Christmas song? Oh Holy Night. Ooh, I hope that just got stuck in your head!

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Milk

9. Can you do push ups? Define push-ups. Just kidding!

10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? My dangly spirally earrings with the pink ball hanging from them.

11. Favorite hobby? Writing Stories

12. Do you have A.D.D.? Nope

13. What's one trait that you hate about yourself? Allergies

14. Middle name? Jane (yay for me!)

15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. Lunch. Food. Sandwich. I'm starving!

16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Milk, Water, Fruit Juice (whatever kind we bought for the week)

17. Current worry right now? Where's the nearest bathroom!!!!! Why is it so far away??!!!

18.Current hate right now? Um, hate? That's a mighty strong word there, partner. I hate...oh! I know! MOSQUITOES!!!!

19. Favorite place to be? Outside, preferably in a tree, but it's been a long time...

20. How did you bring in the New Year? I didn't. God did! Ha!

21. Like to go? To sleep!

22. Do you own slippers? Yep. My awesome sister Charity bought me fuzzy yellow slippers several years ago for Christmas (or my birthday), and I love them...Except, I leave them in the basement because my feet get cold when I'm watching a movie down there, and now I'm afraid to put my toesies into them because I'm afraid a spider might have built a web inside. So...I kind of don't have slippers after all. Sadness.

23. What color shirt are you wearing? Navy Blue

24. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? No, they're too hot. They make me sweat in the night. Nasty!

25. Can you whistle? That's none of your business!

26. Favorite color? Pink and Yellow

27. Would you be a pirate? If I got a cool outfit.

28. What songs do you sing in the shower? Beautiful ones, of course, that show off my incredible singing talent!

29. Favorite girl's name? Huh, that's a hard one. I love Grace, but so many other names are beautiful, too, like Sassafrass, and Kumkwat, and Juicifruiss and Ka-zam!

30. What's in your pocket right now? Two silver barrettes in case my hair starts falling out of my pony-tail holder.

31. Last thing that made you laugh? My brother Zach's email

32. Best bed sheets as a child? A white sheet with beautiful pink roses all over it. I always picked that one out of the closet.

33. How many TVs do you have in your house? One giant one in the basement and one tiny one in a box somewhere, probably in the basement, too.

34. Who is your loudest friend? Jeremy

35. How many pets do you have? Three: Jeremy, Kimmie and Liberty. Oh yeah, and the fleas that come with them. I'm very fond of the fleas.

36. Does someone have a crush on you? Jeremy had better!

37. What is your favorite book? Oh, that's much harder than the girl's name question! Most of them!

38. What is your favorite candy? I am not allowed to think about candy so I refuse to answer.

39. Favorite Sports Team? Cubs and Bears!

40. What were you doing at 12 am last night? Snoring very loudly.

41. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! It can't be morning already!

Randomage

2008-06-05T10:38:00.004-06:00

I have nothing to say. Nothing.

You should mark this day on your calendars.

So, since I have nothing to say, I am going to completely ignore Biblical advice like Keep your mouth shut, lest you look like a fool. And I will happily display my foolishness for all to read.

My friend DeAnn (kind of) tagged me to post 8 random things, so here they are. I hope I can come up with some good ones.

1. Saturday is my BIRTHDAY!!!!! I am so excited for it to come. I have noticed however, since moving out of my parent's house, that birthdays just aren't as exciting as they used to be. My mom always did an awesome job of making a big deal out of our birthdays. We did not have any chores to do. We got to eat our favorite foods. The birthday supper was always of our choosing.

I have tried to explain these things to Liberty, "On my birthday, I don't have to get out of bed until I want to. I don't have to change any dirty diapers, and I don't have to make breakfast, lunch or supper for anyone."

She hasn't quite gotten the point.

2. Last night, I walked out of church and saw twelve thousand three hundred twenty-seven fat June Bugs buzzing around the spotlight outside the door. A huge toad hunched on the cement against the building, just waiting for one to zip close enough to his tongue. I enjoyed that picture, even though I worried about a buzzing beetle landing in my hair or on my clothing as I hurried past.

3. My mom sent a package to our house yesterday that contained several outfits for Liberty Grace and an 8x10 professional picture of me when I was Liberty's age. Kimmie opened the box, and said, "Oh look, your mom sent us a picture of Liberty." I looked at it, too, and was surprised to see how alike the two of us look at that age. Huh. I was pretty cute! :-)

4. Yesterday was Kimmie's last day of school, and she immediately stopped at the library to rent five videos. She watched the first one last night, and I believe she plans to watch the rest of them today because they are due back on Friday. She has a job, but the hours are random and usually only in the evening. She has applied for a second job. We live far enough out of town that her friends cannot easily come and go, and she does not have a car to easily come and go herself. I have been silently brainstorming ways to keep her occupied and out of boredom for the summer, but I've got a feeling this is a losing battle. Does anybody have any ideas?

5. I'm starving.

6. My devotions are in Second Chronicles right now, and last night I read chapter 8, verse 11 which says, "Solomon brought Pharaoh's daughter up from the City of David to the palace he had built for her, for he said, 'My wife must not live in the palace of David king of Israel, because the places the ark of the LORD has entered are holy.'"

That surprised me. I always assumed that Solomon never really thought about the fact that he was sinning by marrying people that God had told him not to. But obviously, he thought about it and still continued to do it. I do that, too. It's like slapping Jesus again after He's already been through so much for me.

7. Only two months left til the baby comes!!!!!!

8. I've got to get the girls' bedroom organized.

Yay for God!

2008-06-03T10:43:00.003-06:00

We had an awesome storm this morning. So loud, it woke me up early, and that takes some doing! I lay in bed listening to the thunder crashing and watching the flashes of lightning through the curtains. The pouring rain BEAT down hard on our roof and windows. Then I heard small hail stones pinging against our house. I kept listening on the baby monitor for Liberty to stir, but she slept soundly through it all. I'm amazed by that, since the thunder cracked so loudly directly overhead.

When we opened the garage door, a nearby screen slammed into my van. Kimmie propped the screen up behind my bicycle so that it wouldn't blow again, and then I heard a strange sound. I looked around to identify what had caused it, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Kimmie pointed to our attic door. The little door is a square cut into the ceiling of our garage. The wind must have swept in so strongly that the door blew upwards into the attic, screeching in protest as it traveled.

I wonder how Jeremy's going to fix that.

I struggled to keep my van in the correct lane on the way to town, but I enjoyed the large circles created on my windshield as the heavy drops plopped down. The sound of rain makes me so happy, and thunder and lightning strike awe into my heart. As I drove, I remembered a storm that occurred while I was in college. I was sitting in church on a Sunday night when suddenly the incredible sound of POURING rain began beating on the roof of the church. The sound was so loud, the pastor could not be heard. I remember listening to the fury of the storm raging outside and marveling at the feeling of security and happiness inside, and I thought to myself, This is the reality of trusting God to care for everything. When I truly let God be in control of my life, I do not have to fear any circumstances that arise. Good or bad, I know that those circumstances are under God's almighty hands.

I heard that same beating sound this morning on the roof of my car and immediately felt the same peace and happiness inside my heart as I remembered God's sovereignty.

I'm so glad! :-)

Visions of Sugar Plums Dance in my Head

2008-06-02T09:47:00.005-06:00

Okay, I have had a weekend to absorb and adjust, and I'm great now.

Well, almost great. I have been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The doctor wants to first try treating it with a diet change alone. If that does not work, then I'll begin insulin shots. As you can imagine, I am eager to utilize the diet instead of the insulin.

So I'm on my best behavior.

I read the diet and was surprised at how easy it looked. All it said was stay away from simple sugars like cake, candy, ice cream, soda pop, ect.; when hungry between meals, snack on fresh fruits and veggies; exercise lightly every day.

Not a problem! Normally, I don't like cakes, candies, ice cream, soda pop, ect. I do enjoy fresh fruits and veggies, and having Liberty around ensures that I run non-stop until bedtime, so I'm sitting pretty! I thought.

However, with this pregnancy, I have regularly craved chocolate. Chocolate cake, chocolate ice cream, chocolate syrup. Anything chocolate, which is highly unusual for me. And apparently, I have made a habit of having a dessert after every supper, which is also highly unusual for me.

So I started off with jubiliant expectations. This diet will be a "piece of cake." (Ha!)

Until Saturday came along.

At breakfast, I fixed eggs and pancakes for the family. I buttered Liberty's pancakes, poured syrup over them, and cut them into tiny pieces. Then I turned to my own plate. I buttered a pancake and lifted the syrup container. With it poised over my food, I suddenly remembered that syrup was made out of sugar. Oh yeah! I can't have that! Instead, I cut up a banana and smugly spread the pieces out over my pancake.

At lunchtime, Jeremy and I were at the mall. A bowl of mints sat on the store counter, and I was hungry. I absently unwrapped the mint and popped it into my mouth. Halfway through my swallow, I realized I was eating candy. "Oh no!" I told Jeremy. "I'm not supposed to be eating this!"

At suppertime, I ate my taco and searched the top shelf of the refrigerator for a drink. I pushed past the milk and the sweet tea, the apple juice and the Pepsi. I found some berry juice (100% juice, I noted with appreciation) in the back of the fridge and decided to mix it with Sprite. Then I remembered...and had to pour the mixture down the drain. (No one else likes my mixtures.)

On Sunday, I had planned peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch along with diced peaches and something else that I don't remember at the moment. I created Liberty's sandwich and cut it into "windows" for her. Then I pulled out two pieces of bread for myself. It suddenly dawned on me that the jelly had to be at least 50% sugar. I sighed and read the label. The idea of a plain peanut butter sandwich did not appeal to me. I thought of the honey in the cabinet, but I wasn't sure how that fit into the diet. Is honey considered sugar? I think so. Instead, I spread peanut butter onto Townhouse crackers and topped them with a slice of cheddar cheese. It was very good, but I started feeling discouraged as I thought of all the little sugars that I had not paid attention to in the past. This is a drastic life change, I realized.

At suppertime, we went to a friend's house. They served chicken quesadillas (contributed by my awesome cheffy husband), a fruit salad, chips and pop. I drank water, and did not feel badly about missing out on the pop or the chips (which I chose not to eat based on the carbs.) But after supper, I badly craved chocolate cake. So badly, in fact, that I began to wonder if I were suffering from withdrawal symptoms. At that point, I would have given ANYTHING for ANY KIND OF SUGAR!!!! I NEED SUGAR!!! The monster inside my tummy raged. SUGAR!!! The battle inside was so intense that I wondered if my friends could see it on my face. I tried to look normal. An hour or so after supper, the hostess told me, "I made some cheesecake. Would you like a piece."

I stared at her face for an eternal thirty seconds. Cheesecake or insulin? Cheesecake or insulin? The chant raged through my brain.

"No!" I almost shouted at her. "Uh, thank you, though." I added meekly.

VICTORY!

Adjusting

2008-05-30T13:32:00.002-06:00

I had to go to the hospital yesterday for some blood tests, and my new doctor called last night with less than desirable results.

So, I'm adjusting.

The news is not tragic. Hopefully, with some little changes here and there, life will be able to resume a new normal pace. But I feel like I'm dangling a little bit. Like a playground swing whose chains were twisted and now needs to unravel itself before soaring once again.

Just thought I'd write. It helps.

Lost and Found

2008-05-28T13:57:00.000-06:00

Flap, flap, flap.

I stopped walking down the street, and the sound stopped with me. I started walking.

Flap, flap.

I must have paper attached to my shoe. I carefully lifted each foot and examined the soles of my shoes. Nothing. My purse strap fell from my shoulder, and I tucked my day planner firmly under my left armpit freeing my right hand to lift the strap back into place. Morning sunlight filtered gently through trees overhead, and a bird sang joyfully nearby. I juggled my lunch bag, purse and day planner back into order and began walking towards work once again.

Flap, flap, flap.

I stopped and turned around to find the source of the noise. My cell phone holder flapped along on the ground behind me, still attached to my purse by a rapidly unraveling thread. "Oh no!" I bent over, squishing the baby and my bladder, to pick up my now filthy holder. I brushed off the road dirt as best as I could and pondered over the emptiness of the small pouch. Then I remembered I had left my cell phone in the van, now a block away. I considered walking back to the van to retrieve my phone, but the pressure on my bladder convinced me to continue on to work...and a restroom. A day without a cell phone would not be a huge problem.

I continued forward.

Three hours later the phone on my desk rang. "Good morning, this is Melissa, how can I help you?" I spoke pleasantly into the receiver.

"Where's your cell phone?" the groggy voice of my husband rasped out at me. He works from 4 in the afternoon until 3 in the morning, so this hour of the day was the middle of the night to him.

"In the van," I responded, puzzled that he was even awake at this hour, let alone trying to call me.

"No, it's not. It's outside," he mumbled with great effort.

"What?" I questioned.

"Go outside. Someone has it."

I quickly deduced that my husband was trying to surprise me, and I joyfully jumped from my office chair, hanging up the phone in the process. I ran outside, fully expecting to see Jeremy's truck parked in front of my office. A quiet street presented itself to my view, no little gray trucks parked anywhere nearby.

Then I realized what must have happened. I must have put my cell phone into the pouch after all and not remembered that. Then when it fell to the ground earlier that morning, the phone must have fallen out. I continued walking, not realizing that the flapping sound belonged to me, and thus I distanced myself from wherever my cell phone had landed. When I finally realized the holder was dragging on the ground, the cell phone was not nearby so I decided that I must have left it in the van when I really had not.

Someone must have picked up my phone and called my husband. With this new idea in mind, I looked around for a promising contact trying to return my phone to me. A few doors down, a woman walked towards me. I smiled at her meaningfully, wondering if I could make up a code word to identify myself to her that she would understand without having agreed upon it previously.

The duck flies at midnight? No, too cryptic.

Phone? No. Simple enough, but too rude sounding if she didn't realize it was a code word...and anyway, what kind of code word would phone be, if the object of our discussion was the phone? Way too obvious.

I finally decided to ask her, "Are you looking for a mystery cell phone owner?" As she approached me, I continued to make intense eye contact and smile broadly. At first, she met my eyes and smiled in a friendly way, but I soon realized that her body language did not spell purposefulness to return a cell phone or hesitancy to wonder if I was a cell phone owner. Instead, she walked as though she knew nothing about a missing cell phone. I stood planted in my chosen spot on the sidewalk near my office door and waited for her to draw near enough to speak. Two doors away from me, she turned and entered a shop.

Oh.

I guess she wasn't my mystery phone rescuer after all. I stood on the quiet street, waiting for another person to stroll past. No one did. I walked to the corner and looked down the cross street. No one stood looking for a missing owner.

I hesitated, wondering what to do. Then brilliance struck!

I walked back into my office and dialed my cell number. It rang several times before a pleasant sounding voice answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, this is my phone," I said happily.

"Excuse me?"

"You're holding my phone," I clarified.

"Oh! Where are you?"

"I'm at work; where are you?"

"At the police station."

Well, that made sense! "Okay, I'll be right over." I skipped across the street to the police station where the same young, blond receptionist, Chris, from my previous visit welcomed me warmly. "Hi! I'm here to pick up my phone."

"Oh! That's your phone?" she turned to the desk and picked it up. "I spoke with your mom," she told me. "She seems really nice! She said she would contact your husband."

"She got in touch with him," I assured her with a smile, "and he called me. So here I am."

The receptionist slipped the phone into the slot under the Plexiglas and said, "You must be relieved."

But the echoes in the old building translated that phrase into "This must be released," for my ears. I stood on the other side of the Plexiglas, looking at my phone.

"Oh." I nodded and waited expectantly for her to ask me a question that would identify me as the real owner of the phone, or for her to slide out a form that I needed to sign in order to release my property from her care.

She stared at me with a half-smile on her face, obviously expecting an enthusiastic response to her inquiry.

My brow wrinkled as I looked back at her. She did not move to find a form. "What was that?" I asked her after a short silence.

"I said, You must be relieved," she paused. "To get your phone back?" Her blond eyebrows elevated slightly.

"Oh! Yes! Yes, I am." I smiled at her, hoping that I looked relieved as I picked up the phone from the counter where it had been lying. I probably would be relieved if I had known that my phone was missing, I thought to myself. As it was, I was just enjoying the adventure.

I turned and walked towards the door, "Thank you!" I called to her from the entrance. Her puzzled face greeted my eyes when I looked back at her. As I pushed open the heavy front doors, I imagined her rounding up policemen to surround me once I left the building. She probably thinks I'm an impostor since I couldn't muster up the relief that an owner ought to feel. I guiltily left the station, waiting all the while for a shout to call me back.

I did feel relieved when I had crossed the street unhindered and entered my own place of business once again.

The Master of Surprises

2008-05-22T09:15:00.000-06:00

For Kimmie's birthday this year, I decided to throw a surprise party for her at a local restaurant where she works. A reasonably simple task, I thought. But I did not plan on all the things that could go berserk.

It all started with Kimmie's friend Ashley.

I contacted Ashley through Facebook and told her about the surprise party. I asked her to call me when she got out of school. That night, I did not receive a phone call. The next morning, I found a response on Facebook from Ashley, "Surprise parties are so cool! I can't wait to see her face!"

I sent her another message telling her that I needed her help with planning. I gave her my phone number and asked her again to call me. That night, I did not receive a phone call.

The next morning, I found this reply from Ashley, "I love surprise parties! What can I do to help out?"

I decided that Ashley did not want to call me, so I sent her a message asking for a list of friends that Kimmie hung out with the most at school.

The next morning, she had responded, "This is so awesome!"

But she didn't send me any names.

I tried again. "Ashley, who does Kimmie hang out with the most at school? Also, what is your email address. I need to send the invitation to you, but I cannot attach it to a Facebook message."

By this time, I had already invited seven people who did not attend her school, and three friends from school that I knew she was especially close with.

The next morning Ashley sent me a list of ten friends, but she did not include her email address.

I tried again, "Ashley, what is your email address?" I figured if I didn't clutter up the message with any unnecessary words, then I would have a better chance at communicating my need.

Ashley messaged me back with her email address. I attached the invitation and sent it off to Ashley's email, requesting that she print it off and distribute it to the list of friends that she had mentioned to me.

It bounced back to me with an error message.

I messaged Ashley again. "My email came back to me. Can you tell me your email address again?"

Ashley did not respond.

Two days later, with Kimmie's birthday fast approaching, I looked up Ashley's phone number and called her. I got her voicemail. "Ashley, this is Missy. Please call me back about Kimmie's party. It is urgent. I tried to email the invitation to you, but it bounced back to me. What is your email address?"

Ashley did not return my phone call.

Another day passed. I reserved a table at the restaurant under the name George Brown so that Kimmie who is a hostess there would not recognize the name.

In the meantime, Kimmie decided that I had nothing extraordinary in the works for her birthday so she took matters into her own hands. At school, she cooked up some plans with a few of her friends. She did not tell me about these plans until a few days later. "My friends and I are going shopping on my birthday," she informed me as we drove home from school one afternoon less than a week before her birthday.

My mind raced. I didn't want to say no, because I had no reason prepared for them NOT to shop. "Uh, who's car are you going to use?"

"Yours!" she blithely announced.

"Oh, well, I don't know if I'll have enough gas money to run you guys around to different stores," I offered weakly.

"Don't worry about that; I'll give you gas money from my paycheck," she quickly responded.

"Hmm, who did you invite?"

She listed five girls, and I mentally scribbled their names on my brain so that I could call them later and inform them of the real plans. Every name she mentioned was already on the list that Ashley had given me. When I arrived at work the next morning, I checked my Facebook messages and my emails. No response from Ashley.

I decided to email her again. Maybe this time the invitation would go through. Then I sent her a Facebook message letting her know that I had emailed the invitation again and to please check her emails and let me know if she received it.

That afternoon she wrote back. "Cool."

Cool? Does that mean that she got the invitation, or just that she got my Facebook message about the invitation? Is she going to print it and pass it around to the girls at school? I groaned out loud, and Craig came in to see what was wrong. He laughed heartily as I lamented my communication barrier with the teenagers in my life.

Every afternoon when I picked Kimmie up from school, she announced to me a new birthday plan that she had cooked up with the girls from school. I listened in silence, wondering if any of the girls had gotten the invitations from Ashley. Then one day Kimmie informed me, "I think Ashley is planning something for my birthday. Either that or something is wrong. Because she was passing a note in class today to all of my friends, but she wouldn't pass it to me. And then I saw my name at the top of the note, and my friends all looked at me and laughed. When I asked them after class what was going on, they wouldn't let me see the note and they wouldn't tell me anything."

"Hmm," I sympathized. "You didn't have anything stuck in your teeth or in your hair, did you?"

"No, well, I don't think so."

Together we checked her teeth and hair to find a possible wayward item. I suppressed my laughter. At last I knew for sure that Ashley had gotten my invitation, and she was passing them out...during class! Not exactly what my instructions had been, but oh well!

I received a message from Ashley. "Kimmie says we are all going to the park for her birthday party. Is this true?"

I immediately emailed her back, "NO! Do not listen to ANYTHING that Kimmie says. She is planning her own party, and it has nothing to do with what is really going to happen. Spread the word!"

Kimmie's Monday birthday approached. On Saturday, Kimmie changed all of her previous plans and decided to call all of her friends to let them know of the changes. Jeremy and I exchanged worried glances and wordlessly worked together to keep her occupied the entire day. A very sad Kimmie went to bed that night without having found any time in her day to call her friends and notify them of the change in plans.

"Oh well," she told me as she walked to her room, "I'll just have to call them all tomorrow. I've decided to invite everyone that I can think of to the park, and we'll have pizza and cake and stuff."

I panicked. Everyone she can think of???? This has got to stop!

That night, Jeremy placed his cell phone in his truck and I placed mine under our bed. We purposefully did not charge them so that we could tell Kimmie our phones were dead the next day. Several times on Sunday, Kimmie mentioned calling her friends, but she did not follow through with it.

Finally, that evening, she began searching for the phones. "My phone is not where I usually put it," I complained to her. She assumed that I did not know where it was. She had no luck finding Jeremy's phone either. I gave her free reign to search for my phone, and wouldn't you know it, the little stinker FOUND IT! She handed it to me, "Here it is! It was under your bed!"

Sigh.

I checked the bars. It was still charged! Another plan foiled.

I casually rested my thumb on the power button as I spoke with Kimmie, then I pretended to be startled as it shut itself down. "OH NO!" I cried out. "MY SCREEN JUST WENT BLANK!"

"Let me see," she offered.

"No, I'll see if I can fix it myself." I fiddled with the buttons while carefully keeping the keys out of her direct line of sight. I was sure she had seen me turn it off myself. "Oh well, I guess it needs to be charged."

"I'll get the charger," she offered and raced off to my bedroom to get it.

"Wait! I'll just plug it in there."

"But I wanted to use it while it was plugged in," she told me.

"Oh...well...I really want it to rest a while," I mumbled in desperation.

"What?" she questioned, but then seemed to accept that explanation. I hoped that would solve the problem. She only had a couple hours left until bedtime. When the subject came up again, Jeremy rescued me by putting his foot down. "No, it is too late to call people. You can just talk with them at school tomorrow."

Oh great! I hadn't thought about who she would be able to invite while she was at school tomorrow! I began imagining thirty high-schoolers gathered at the park waiting for Kimmie to show up, while the real party took place at the restaurant. I had to come up with a way to prevent her from inviting more people!

The next morning (her birthday!) on the way to school, she excitedly chattered about who she would invite and what presents they would probably give her and how much fun they would all have.

What do I do? What do I do?

Then brilliance struck!

"Kimmie," I said very hesitantly, "I'm kind of sad."

"What? Why?" she questioned.

"Well, because you're doing all of this planning yourself, and I really wanted to be involved in your birthday party. So I feel a little left out."

"But you are involved," she pointed out logically. "You're buying all of the food."

Oh yeah, she saved the best part for me.

"I know, but I really wanted to be part of the planning and the inviting and all that. I'm just a little sad, that's all."

"Oh." Kimmie sat back in the passenger seat and quietly watched the empty corn fields sweep behind us.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She looked so sad. Then I felt bad. I didn't want her to feel sad on her birthday!

"Well, don't feel sad, Kimmie. It's okay. But can I just ask for a favor? Since I am paying for all of this, I really can't afford to feed lots of people. Can you just invite these people?" I listed five names that I knew for sure were already coming to the restaurant party.

"Oh. Only those five?" she asked. She looked like she was about to start arguing.

"Yes, I mean, at least I will get to have a small part in the party planning by helping you choose who to invite, right?" I pretended to be a little sad still.

"Yeah, I guess so," she lapsed back into silence. "I'm sorry you didn't get to plan anything. I didn't know you wanted to."

"I know, Kimmie."

She looked so sad! I felt bad for her.

I cheered my voice up, "But I never said anything to you about it, so there's no way you could have known. Don't worry about it! Be happy! It's your birthday!!!!" Then I began singing happy birthday to her in a very off-key and crazy sort of way.

She laughed and cheered up so much that I was worried she would ignore my advice on who to invite. When I dropped her off at the school, I repeated, "Please only invite the people that we talked about, okay?"

She agreed and closed the car door. I waited until she was about five steps away from the van, then I rolled all the windows down and began singing at the top of my lungs HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIMMIE! I honked the horn repeatedly and did not stop until she had disappeared into the building. She glanced embarrassedly at the noisy van, then ducked her head and scurried away, but not before I saw a smile tugging at her lips. Several people nearby hurried up to her and hugged her, saying "Happy Birthday!"

I grinned, the day was off to a great start!

At work, I checked my emails and found several from Kimmie's friends wondering which party was the real party. I quickly called Ashley's cell phone and left a voice mail telling her to spread the word one more time about when and where to meet. I told her to repeat to everyone to ignore ANYTHING that Kimmie said about a party. Then I prayed like crazy that we would not have any people who did not get the word!

That afternoon, I got off of work early, Jeremy took off of work, and we picked up Liberty from the babysitters. We arrived at the restaurant with decorations in hand and quickly decked out the table with kazoos and banners. One by one, her friends arrived. When Kimmie and Ashley finally pulled up, Kimmie's friend Lexi who was the hostess on duty, ran out to hug Kimmie and tell her happy birthday. Ashley ran inside while Kimmie was distracted and joined us at the table.

Kimmie and Lexi walked in the front door together, and Kimmie looked around for Ashley. When she spotted our table full of seventeen people, we all held up the HAPPY BIRTHDAY signs and began singing. She stood rooted to her spot. Finally she whispered to herself, "But, I don't understand."

Lexi hugged her and said, "It's your surprise birthday party, silly! Happy Birthday!"

Kimmie slowly began walking towards us, and she said to herself, "But, I didn't even know..."

I laughed out loud! The dumb-founded look on Kimmie's face was beyond what I had imagined, and then to watch her slowly snap out of it, and begin enjoying the attention was wonderful! She did a perfect job of being the birthday girl. She told me afterwards that she had worked very hard to be sure to include everyone in the conversations and introductions. She did a great job, and I am very proud of her.

Afterwards, several of the friends headed off to the park to climb on the equipment and to take pictures. The rest of the party headed home. Jeremy, Liberty and I stayed at the restaurant to clean up, and then we drove over to the park to play for a while too. Finally, Jeremy had to return to work; he had only a few hours off for the party. The rest of our group broke up and went our separate ways.

All the way home, Kimmie chattered happily, and I reveled in the beautiful smile on her face. It was so much fun to surprise her!

Next time, though, I'll let her plan her own surprise party...it's much easier that way!

No More Highchairs

2008-05-21T10:39:00.001-06:00

Our family now has a new rule when entering a restaurant. No more highchairs!

On Mother's Day, we called Texas Roadhouse immediately after morning church to be put in line for a table. They told us it would be an 80 minute wait. No problem. We live 45 minutes away, so we stopped off at home to change our clothes and to pack up a snack for Liberty. 70 minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot at TR, willing to wait another ten minutes to be seated. We checked in, and the hostess told us the wait would be approximately 15 minutes. Not a problem.

Liberty perched on a nearby saddle and bounced up and down for three minutes. Then she ran over to the jukebox and pointed emphatically at the flashing lights, which obviously meant something wonderful to her...for two minutes. Then she tripped over to the hostess station and began making friends with the girls on duty. This lasted a very long time because they paid attention to her.

She then decided to make friends with the diners. She ran off amongst the tables, happily scattering her smiling "Hi"s to all who glanced at her. I stayed pretty busy, running after her and trying to keep her distracted. So I did not realize how long we had been waiting.

"Two hours," Jeremy informed me when he heard my tummy grumble over the background noises.

I approached the hostess station with a smile and explained to them how long we had been waiting. "Oh, I know," the hostess replied, "but we haven't had a table come available that had enough room for a highchair to be placed with it."

"Pshaw!" I replied. "We can eat without a highchair. Do you have a booster seat?"

It turns out they did, and we were shone immediately to a table. "If you had requested a booster seat from the beginning," the hostess explained, "we would have been able to seat you right away."

Too bad they didn't tell us that in the beginning!

Jeremy and I looked at each other in disbelief, and a new family rule was born.

Night-Night, Liberty

2008-05-20T09:49:00.003-06:00

A big girl bed. This should be a milestone of some sort, but so far, it has only been a source of sleeplessness for momma. How many times can one child fall out of bed in the night? How many cries of panic can one child let loose in her sleep causing mom to leap from her own bed in panic?

On Saturday, May 10th, Daddy got out his drill and his wrench. He dragged pieces of a metal bed frame from my van, and we commenced work. Liberty was thrilled with the new jungle gym in her room. She climbed from metal bar to metal bar in delight. She willingly "helped" Daddy by handing him his wrench when he asked for it, and she gruntingly attempted several times to hand him his drill. But alas, it proved too heavy. Mommy helped her carry it to Daddy. She finally found a special perch in the corner of the bed frame and clapped her hands gleefully as she watched the jungle gym take shape.

When it was time, Kimmie and Jeremy lugged the mattress and box spring into the room and carefully placed them on the frame. Then Daddy ran joyfully from the room calling, "Just a minute! I'll be right back." He returned, a blue Star Wars sheet flapping along behind him. He had been saving this sheet for years. He triumphantly wrestled it onto the mattress and then lifted his daughter into her new bed. She squealed and began jumping up and down. Then she discovered the characters on the sheet. She dropped to her tummy and loudly pointed out C3PO, her favorite Star Wars personality.

Daddy was proud. He and Liberty beamed at each other in complete satisfaction.

The satisfaction lasted until it was naptime. Then the torture began. Liberty looked at us in disbelief. You mean, you expect me to stay on this trampoline? There are no bars. I need my freedom!

Two weeks later, she has become proficient at staying in her bed...and quite frankly, I'm surprised (and thrilled). But several times in the middle of the night, I will rush into her room after hearing panicked crying to find her stuck under her bed. In her sleepy state, she cannot figure out how she got there or how to find the way out. Kimmie came up with a great solution the other day. She stuffed cushions all along the outline of the bed, so that Liberty cannot accidentally roll underneath in her sleep.

This morning, I found one cushion pulled away from the bed, and Liberty's feet sticking out of the hole. She was asleep.

Under the bed once again.

Absent

2008-05-16T07:58:00.001-06:00

Liberty has pink eye again so I've been home with her for a few days. Today is my first day back in the office, and I've got a lot of catching up to do. I may or may not post anything today. We'll see.

Bedside Manners

2008-05-13T12:22:00.003-06:00

Since I don't blog on weekends, I have several posts stored up for you. They include:

What Happened on Friday ... Bedside Manners
What Happened on Saturday ... Night-Night, Liberty!
What Happened on Sunday ... No More Highchairs
What Happened on Monday ... Partido De la Sorpresa!
What Happened on Tuesday ... Lost and Found

So obviously, I need to have a really boring Wednesday, Thursday and Friday so that I can catch you up on my weekend.

We will commence with "Bedside Manners."

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

I have just begun my seventh month of being pregnant, and I visited my doctor once again for the routine monthly checkup. Now, I am not intending to doctor-bash, so I will just tell you that I have never felt the warm fuzzies with this doctor. The only reason that I began seeing her was the fact that our regular family doctor no longer covers OB, so I needed to find someone. I called the hospital, and they told me that since Dr. X was new in town, she was looking for patients. I didn't know her, but I also didn't know any of the other doctors, so why not.

I now know why not.

After our first visit, Jeremy told me that he did not like her. He wanted me to return to the doctor that I had used with Liberty, but that doctor's office was 50 miles from my work, and after we moved when I was eight months pregnant with Liberty, it was incredibly inconvenient to drive all that way for a weekly appointment. (Not to mention the fact that the distance to the hospital made me hyperventilate when I thought of it.)

I am very thankful that the small hospital in our new town is only two minutes from my work and fifteen minutes from my house, so for that reason alone, I chose to stick with Dr. X. And I really liked her nurse.

Every month, I met with Dr. X, and it felt like we had never met before. Some people just have colder, stiffer personalities, and I assumed that was just her style. Plus, she had just graduated from medical school. I decided that she must be concentrating very hard on her job and establishing herself, so she did not have much effort left to pay attention to her patients as people. (Now that I typed that sentence out, I sound really stupid, but that really is what I thought.) I figured that she would gradually loosen up as she got more comfortable in her position, so I kept cutting her slack on her "bedside manner."

Jeremy lost it when she told us that she had never done a C-section before, that mine would be her first. We had an intense discussion at home. My argument was that every doctor has to have a FIRST at some point in their life, and if I refused to be her first, how would she ever get to second? Jeremy's argument was nobody is doing a first anything on HIS wife. (Which made me feel loved and special, but did not make me look for another doctor...although I was nervous. I'm not eager to be a guinea pig, after all.)

This month, at the beginning of the appointment, I asked her for Jeremy's FMLA paperwork that I had given her the month before to fill out. Last month, she had told me that she was too busy to fill it out at that time, and that she would have to give it to me at my next appointment. When I asked her this Friday for that paperwork, she looked at me blankly. I explained what I was talking about, and she told me "Oh, I must have lost it. Have your husband pick up another one from work, and I'll fill it out for you." She didn't even apologize or seem bothered. I sighed, but did not see any point in arguing with her.

We were halfway through our appointment, when I asked her conversationally, "When do we get to schedule the C-section? Is that something that can be done now, or do we need to wait until closer to the time?"

She mumbled something that I did not catch, so I repeated my question.

"When are you due?" she asked me.

Now, I don't know about you, but that is information that I expect my doctor to know. I mean, seriously, she was the one who gave me my due date in the first place. She was the one holding my file in her hand. I can understand if she forgot it, because she probably has lots of patients and why should she have their charts individually memorized, but when she is in my room, checking out my progress, I expect her to have brushed up on my chart.

Rebellion raised it's head, and I said, "In July." I didn't want to just TELL her the date. I wanted her to work for it...what am I paying her for?

"Oh. What day?" she responded.

"It's probably in my chart," I answered in a calm tone of voice as I nodded my head towards the folder in her hand.

"Hmm," she read the chart, "July 31st."

"Um, actually, last month you changed it to July 29th," I informed her, my confidence in her knowledge plummeting.

"Oh, 31st, 29th, I'm not worried about a few days. You're not very far along, anyway," she commented breezily.

Oh really?

"And I'm going to be on vacation at that time," she continued.

I waited for her to let me know who would be filling in for her while she was on vacation. She did not continue.

"So, will I get to meet the person who does my C-section beforehand?" I asked nervously.

She shrugged. "He'll probably call you." Her nose remained buried in my chart this entire time.

"Okay," I hesitated. "So should I set up my C-section through you, or through him?"

She closed my chart decisively, "Let just listen to the baby's heartbeat right now. We can talk about that later." She pulled the microphone from the nearby counter and approached my belly with a tube of jelly in her other hand. We listened together in silence to the heartbeat. "Sounds good," she said brightly as she wiped off my belly. I pulled my shirt down and watched her gather her things and walk towards the door. "I'll send Jenny in with your paperwork, and I'll see you next time."

"Wait, are we going to talk about the C-section?" I wondered.

She sighed and walked back into the room. I got the distinct impression that she had hoped I would have forgotten. "If now is a bad time to schedule it..." I began.

"No, no," she interrupted, and she sat down on the swiveling desk chair in the corner of the room. She pushed off with her foot, and the chair rotated until her back was facing me. She picked up the phone on the desk, dialed a number, and covered her mouth with her other hand. In a low pitched voice, she spoke into the phone, "Hi, this is Dr. X, and I have a patient here who insists on scheduling her C-section right now."

I listened in disbelief. Two thoughts popped into my mind (I just typed two thoughts pooped into my mind, which is what it seems my thoughts have been doing to me recently, but I corrected my spelling just for you. You should feel special.) 1. I did NOT insist! 2. Does she think I cannot HEAR her?!

She paused while the person on the other end spoke. "I know," she answered sympathetically, "But she just has to know. She's not even due until July 31st." Her tone of voice was distinctly snide.

I thought about leaving the room completely, disgusted and amazed at her rudeness, but instead I got up off of the examining table and walked over to where she was sitting. I sat in a chair so close to her that our knees were almost touching. She swiveled her chair so that her back was to me once again, and she spoke into the phone, "I know. I know." Her voice indicated that if she had to bear with my ridiculous request, then the other person would have to also. I do not know what the other person was saying, but judging from Dr. X's tone of voice, they seemed to be comrades in this burden of having to patronize me, since I was the PAYING CUSTOMER!

HELLO!

At that moment, I decided to switch doctors.

"Well, I'll make sure she understands that this is tentative." She emphasized the last word and glanced over her shoulder at me, then she hung up the phone.

A bright smile appeared on her face, and she warmly told me, "Your C-section is scheduled for July 25th." Her quick change in personality and tone of voice surprised me, and I wondered again, Did she think I couldn't hear her on the phone?

I thanked her and watched as she quickly left the room. I sat back in the chair, completely amazed at the rudeness I had just witnessed, and at a loss to explain how someone whom I had expected to show complete professionalism had turned into a high-school snot before my eyes.

The nurse, Jenny, walked into the room and sat down at the desk. She smiled at me and made conversation while she looked at the papers left for her by Dr. X. "Oh," she said in a puzzled voice, "It looks like you are scheduled for another glucose test. Did something happen?" (I just passed a glucose test last month.)

We discussed the fact that I had no clue what she was talking about, and she decided not to pursue the fact that she did not understand those orders either.

After leaving the hospital, I called the receptionist and asked her how I could go about switching doctors. My next appointment is in two weeks with Dr. Y. I've heard good things about him, so I am hopeful.

Honestly though, Dr. Y won't have to work hard to be an improvement!

And yes, Jeremy, you were right. This is the sentence that he has been waiting for, you know. :-)

Finally...Hezekiah!

2008-05-08T09:20:00.003-06:00

I've mentioned before how I'm meandering my way through the Bible, and I have FINALLY broken through to Hezekiah.

I am so glad!

Every night, I read about one king after another who either ignored God in their lives or blatantly thumbed their noses at Him even to the point of sacrificing their children in the fire to an idol. How disgusting and horrible! Night after night, the kings parade past my eyes, "and in the fourth year of what's-his-name, so-and-so became king, and he followed in the ways of his father and did not follow in the ways of David before him...and he killed fifty thousand people who may or may not have been aspiring to the throne...and he did evil in the sight of the Lord...and he led the children of Israel away from God...and he died...and everything else that he accomplished in his lifetime is written somewhere else."

But Hezekiah! Oh, Hezekiah! He loved God. He had a real relationship with God, not just an I'll-do-right kind of thing going on. And how happy I felt as I read his life. I loved how he brought the bad guy's letter to God and spread it out before Him. He didn't just say, "Hey God, I've got a bad guy on my back, and he said this." No, he took the letter to God and said, "Here, You read it. What do You think about this?" They were friends.

I loved it!

I know I've got books and books ahead of me involving horrible captivity and abused prophets. But for now, Hezekiah made me happy!

Ooooh!!!!

2008-05-07T12:28:00.003-06:00

Oh.

My.

Goodness.

My mom just called me. A movie called The Informant starring Matt Damon is being shot in my home-town, Decatur, Illinois RIGHT NOW! My dad is doing some construction work at the mall where some of the scenes are being shot, and someone asked him to donate his truck for a scene because it was made in the 1980's, the time-frame that they are shooting in.

My brothers and sisters were at the mall this weekend, and they reported that it is all dressed up for Christmas, including a real Santa Claus village for the movie.

My youngest brother, Pete, asked my mom yesterday if there would be any shooting and car chases, and she said, "That's probably not how it really happened, but it's a movie, so they could put some in if they thought it was too boring." Today, my sixteen year old brother, Zach, reported that they are in fact shooting a car chase scene today and have several streets blocked off.

My oldest brother, Nate, bears a startling resemblance to Matt Damon. The resemblance is so strong that Jeremy and I had trouble concentrating on the Bourne movies because we kept exclaiming over Nate/Matt's facial expressions that are so familiar. Nate's wife Suzy also struggles with the similarities between her husband and Matt Damon. Mom and I laughed over the fact that thankfully, Nate and Suzy live in Ohio, so there is no danger that Nate will be mobbed for his autograph while walking down the streets of Decatur, Illinois!

The movie is all about intrigue and deception that occurred years ago at the biggest employer in town, ADM, where I worked for a summer. So I am excited to see if I can find my office, or recognize former co-workers or family members as extras!

Seriously, how cool is that?