Roaches 1, Lael 0
Oh my gosh... I am to the point where I feel that I might need help. It's a problem and it has been for a long time. Only now, my problem has had physical ramifications that border on absurd. Fear of Roaches.
I was doing the laundry last Wednesday night. The same Wednesday night that preceded our Jacksonville, FL trip that was to begin promptly at 5:00 a.m. in the morning on Thursday. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that trip to the laundry room, except that I left wet towels on the floor from the night before AND I hadn't turned on the laundry room light as I felt it was still bright enough outside.
Load 1...finished and loaded into the dryer without incident.
Load 2...started off well, but as I'm lifting a towel to throw it into the wash, a GIGANTIC roach drops onto the floor and scurries my way (of course).
I scream, turn and jump about 10 feet out the door of the laundry room. During the jump, I feel a horrible pain in the back of my calf and what I can only describe as a pop that sounded in my brain. How's this for adrenaline: I run another ten feet before collapsing on the floor rubbing the back of my calf and in horrendous pain. I'm sitting there rocking back and forth on my rear-end, looking at my father-in-law, who is there to play with Clare. He is standing over me quite shocked and trying to figure out what just happened. I mention roach and pain and that I think something has hit me in the back of my leg. Mason walks in at this point and is trying to figure out the situation. I fall to pieces and start to cry because the pain is so intense at this point. I'm massaging my calf and ask him to go into the laundry room to see what hit me in the back of the leg.
He looks....
There is nothing...
Maybe I just have a cramp in my leg or something?
At his urging, I get up to try to "walk it off" only to realize that the pain I feel when I stand up to walk is worse than what I feel sitting in the modified fetal position. I try it repeatedly until my head gets light and I hobble to the bathroom to vomit. Hmm...I don't think this is a cramp.
I'm a little freaked out at this point because I've begun to realize that I can't walk and we're leaving to go on vacation in under 12 hours. Stir panic into pain and the night has taken a decided turn for the worse. Mason looks up my description of what happened pain wise and says it could be one of three kinds of things. One is not great, but ok. One is worse, and less ok, but still ok. The last is bad and of course, since I can't walk, I'm convinced this is what has happened to me.
This is the best part. As I consider what to do, Mason sets me up on the couch with a pillow to support my leg, an ice pack, hands me a beer and an Aleve for pain. He tells me to wait here while he heads out to run and get his hair cut. He makes Clare dinner, gets his dad to stick around with Clare until his mom can get there and heads on out. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I didn't know if I would be able to walk the next day, and at this point I'm thinking I'm not going to be able to go on my anniversary trip the following week, Clare is hysterical because I wouldn't get up and play with her and we were absolutely not packed to leave the house at 6:00 a.m. What does anyone in this position do? I called Momma. I will never forget her voice...it was as stern as I remembered when she means business.
"You need to go to the doctor, NOW. Do you think this is a game? These are your legs. You cannot walk. The trip is the last thing you should be worried about! What if you need to go into physical therapy immediately?!!!" she growled at me.
I thanked her, hung up and called Mason, who was getting his hair cut.
A doctor's visit later, approval for my trip, some pain medicine, crutches and a new outlook...we were back at the house laughing and getting ready for the trip again. I've got wheelchair pictures from the airport (it's the latest craze people). I felt stupid "swaggering" all weekend in Florida alternating from toe walking to flat-footing it, but man did we have fun and the leg is already 1000 times better than it was five days ago.
Now all I have to do is get rid of all of the roaches in the world. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but they're dangerous little buggers. Look at what just one was capable of doing. It seems as if it managed to fly into the back of my leg as I ran to escape it's fearsome grasp. On my way out it tried to incapacitate me. Vicious thing wanted to ruin my vacation time. Probably in the hopes of eating my face off when I wasn't looking.
Just wait until we meet again...
I was doing the laundry last Wednesday night. The same Wednesday night that preceded our Jacksonville, FL trip that was to begin promptly at 5:00 a.m. in the morning on Thursday. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that trip to the laundry room, except that I left wet towels on the floor from the night before AND I hadn't turned on the laundry room light as I felt it was still bright enough outside.
Load 1...finished and loaded into the dryer without incident.
Load 2...started off well, but as I'm lifting a towel to throw it into the wash, a GIGANTIC roach drops onto the floor and scurries my way (of course).
I scream, turn and jump about 10 feet out the door of the laundry room. During the jump, I feel a horrible pain in the back of my calf and what I can only describe as a pop that sounded in my brain. How's this for adrenaline: I run another ten feet before collapsing on the floor rubbing the back of my calf and in horrendous pain. I'm sitting there rocking back and forth on my rear-end, looking at my father-in-law, who is there to play with Clare. He is standing over me quite shocked and trying to figure out what just happened. I mention roach and pain and that I think something has hit me in the back of my leg. Mason walks in at this point and is trying to figure out the situation. I fall to pieces and start to cry because the pain is so intense at this point. I'm massaging my calf and ask him to go into the laundry room to see what hit me in the back of the leg.
He looks....
There is nothing...
Maybe I just have a cramp in my leg or something?
At his urging, I get up to try to "walk it off" only to realize that the pain I feel when I stand up to walk is worse than what I feel sitting in the modified fetal position. I try it repeatedly until my head gets light and I hobble to the bathroom to vomit. Hmm...I don't think this is a cramp.
I'm a little freaked out at this point because I've begun to realize that I can't walk and we're leaving to go on vacation in under 12 hours. Stir panic into pain and the night has taken a decided turn for the worse. Mason looks up my description of what happened pain wise and says it could be one of three kinds of things. One is not great, but ok. One is worse, and less ok, but still ok. The last is bad and of course, since I can't walk, I'm convinced this is what has happened to me.
This is the best part. As I consider what to do, Mason sets me up on the couch with a pillow to support my leg, an ice pack, hands me a beer and an Aleve for pain. He tells me to wait here while he heads out to run and get his hair cut. He makes Clare dinner, gets his dad to stick around with Clare until his mom can get there and heads on out. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I didn't know if I would be able to walk the next day, and at this point I'm thinking I'm not going to be able to go on my anniversary trip the following week, Clare is hysterical because I wouldn't get up and play with her and we were absolutely not packed to leave the house at 6:00 a.m. What does anyone in this position do? I called Momma. I will never forget her voice...it was as stern as I remembered when she means business.
"You need to go to the doctor, NOW. Do you think this is a game? These are your legs. You cannot walk. The trip is the last thing you should be worried about! What if you need to go into physical therapy immediately?!!!" she growled at me.
I thanked her, hung up and called Mason, who was getting his hair cut.
A doctor's visit later, approval for my trip, some pain medicine, crutches and a new outlook...we were back at the house laughing and getting ready for the trip again. I've got wheelchair pictures from the airport (it's the latest craze people). I felt stupid "swaggering" all weekend in Florida alternating from toe walking to flat-footing it, but man did we have fun and the leg is already 1000 times better than it was five days ago.
Now all I have to do is get rid of all of the roaches in the world. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but they're dangerous little buggers. Look at what just one was capable of doing. It seems as if it managed to fly into the back of my leg as I ran to escape it's fearsome grasp. On my way out it tried to incapacitate me. Vicious thing wanted to ruin my vacation time. Probably in the hopes of eating my face off when I wasn't looking.
Just wait until we meet again...
Just wanted to share
I have always struggled with what to say when I find that someone I know has lost a friend or family member (I love it...lost like they're in hiding). What I mean is that I have a problem with what to say to someone grieving when someone has died. What words can I use to make that person feel like I truly care (because I do). I read an article and a response stuck with me and I wondered if maybe others needed these words too because they struggled with this as well.
How about...."I'm so sorry. Tell me more about your (father, mother, friend)"
How wonderful. How sincere. It beats the heck out of I'm sorry and awkwardly trying to segue into something less uncomfortable. Is there anything less uncomfortable to discuss than death? But this turns it into something loving and respectful and maybe even joyous.
Like I said, just wanted to share.
How about...."I'm so sorry. Tell me more about your (father, mother, friend)"
How wonderful. How sincere. It beats the heck out of I'm sorry and awkwardly trying to segue into something less uncomfortable. Is there anything less uncomfortable to discuss than death? But this turns it into something loving and respectful and maybe even joyous.
Like I said, just wanted to share.
The Blessing
Every night we try to say the blessing before dinner.
For all of Clare's life, we have included her in the blessing as we make sure to reach out and touch her as we do each other for the blessing...even when she was tiny, I would hold her or cradle her for it.
Within the last week, she has started holding our hands during the blessing and bouncing while Mason says every word. She's learned the rhythm of it and when it's about it end.
At the very end, right as we're saying Amen, she's begun to exclaim 'AAAAMEN!' with great exuberance and force!
It's the cutest thing ever to look over her smiling face with her bouncing little body so proud that she has made us smile. It has given us a new meaning for "The Blessing". I know I certainly look forward to hearing it now like I never have before.
If it were possible, the present I would give everyone for every holiday would be the way this feels. It makes me well up with happiness and pride and love and all kinds of feelings that I don't think have words.
Having a child (children) is certainly a challenge, but my goodness is it worth it at the most simple times without even meaning to be anything.
For all of Clare's life, we have included her in the blessing as we make sure to reach out and touch her as we do each other for the blessing...even when she was tiny, I would hold her or cradle her for it.
Within the last week, she has started holding our hands during the blessing and bouncing while Mason says every word. She's learned the rhythm of it and when it's about it end.
At the very end, right as we're saying Amen, she's begun to exclaim 'AAAAMEN!' with great exuberance and force!
It's the cutest thing ever to look over her smiling face with her bouncing little body so proud that she has made us smile. It has given us a new meaning for "The Blessing". I know I certainly look forward to hearing it now like I never have before.
If it were possible, the present I would give everyone for every holiday would be the way this feels. It makes me well up with happiness and pride and love and all kinds of feelings that I don't think have words.
Having a child (children) is certainly a challenge, but my goodness is it worth it at the most simple times without even meaning to be anything.
Clare and Ava go to the zoo
Nothing amazing or miraculous in the grand scheme of the world, but my what a fun Saturday afternoon. Mason, Clare, Alison, Ava and myself all went to the zoo to play. I don't know about you, but all of my life, I've dreamed of taking my child to the zoo to play with her friends. It's a strange thing to be that excited about...but it's a very real thing to experience.
What an afternoon! Mason packed the dual-seat Radio Flyer for the girls (MAJOR props to Daddy for this one). The girls loved it and it provide an exceptionally cute photo opportunity. They're about the same age, about the same size and you could clearly hear them "talking" to each other throughout the excursion. The best is they gave each other the "knowing" look when I went in for a little too much Clare love. She was so, "m-o-o-o-o-m, please not in front of my friend!"
Anyway, there were wild animals, trains, butterflies and water activities galore. Seriously, can you think of anything more fun?
A half way funny (for those of you who know me) rabbit trail: I emailed Alison earlier in the week and obviously said we'd go to "Dave's" pizza afterward unaware that I had typed Dave's and intending to have typed "Davenports". We're all packing up to go to dinner and Mason says that he thinks that Davenports is much closer than Dave's. I still haven't figured out that we're all talking about a different place than what I am envisioning in my mind (again Davenports). Finally it dawns on me that they're saying Dave's and not Davenport's and I looked at Alison and asked "Where's Dave's?" Alison looks at me with her witty smile and says "I don't know, I'm not from here...you're the one who told me about it, Lael". Mason, obviously used to sorting things out for me, cleared up the confusion by finalizing the plans at Davenports and then telling me where Dave's is currently located (which he shouldn't have had to as we've eaten there a million and one times). It was like a "who's on first" joke in real time.
Ah yes, my friends, I am truly gifted in the art of confusion.
Enjoy Clare's and Ava's pictures to the right of this blog entry. They're absolutely precious together.
What an afternoon! Mason packed the dual-seat Radio Flyer for the girls (MAJOR props to Daddy for this one). The girls loved it and it provide an exceptionally cute photo opportunity. They're about the same age, about the same size and you could clearly hear them "talking" to each other throughout the excursion. The best is they gave each other the "knowing" look when I went in for a little too much Clare love. She was so, "m-o-o-o-o-m, please not in front of my friend!"
Anyway, there were wild animals, trains, butterflies and water activities galore. Seriously, can you think of anything more fun?
A half way funny (for those of you who know me) rabbit trail: I emailed Alison earlier in the week and obviously said we'd go to "Dave's" pizza afterward unaware that I had typed Dave's and intending to have typed "Davenports". We're all packing up to go to dinner and Mason says that he thinks that Davenports is much closer than Dave's. I still haven't figured out that we're all talking about a different place than what I am envisioning in my mind (again Davenports). Finally it dawns on me that they're saying Dave's and not Davenport's and I looked at Alison and asked "Where's Dave's?" Alison looks at me with her witty smile and says "I don't know, I'm not from here...you're the one who told me about it, Lael". Mason, obviously used to sorting things out for me, cleared up the confusion by finalizing the plans at Davenports and then telling me where Dave's is currently located (which he shouldn't have had to as we've eaten there a million and one times). It was like a "who's on first" joke in real time.
Ah yes, my friends, I am truly gifted in the art of confusion.
Enjoy Clare's and Ava's pictures to the right of this blog entry. They're absolutely precious together.
Vacation Bible School
It's the time of year again.
For the past three years, I've volunteered to help with vacation bible school.
It's kind of funny when I think back to my first year. I had just started attending our church, was pretty pregnant (7 months) and I knew very few people. I just jumped in awkwardly - like I do with everything. I didn't make it the whole week due to my pregnancy. VBS didn't end until 8:00 p.m. that year and working a full day along with that was just too much for me. A new friend, Allyson, who would become a good friend of mine, told me that week that she had also just found out she was pregnant and ten weeks along. She now has the most beautiful little boy, Noah and we're working together again.
Three years has flown by. This is one of the few mile-markers of my life that's an annual event not related to some kind of holiday, so it exposes me to that evolution of time without other sentiments. I look around and the faces all look the same to me, except the kids are a little bit older now. Instead of working with the babies, I've chosen to volunteer with the Rising Stars, who are 4 - 6th graders. I'm meeting other mothers than the ones I usually hang out with, which was kind of my point. After all of this time, there are still so many people I see at church, but don't know them by name. I want to change this without running through the sanctuary on Sunday morning with my hand extended like some kind of campaigning politician introducing myself. So, this seemed like a great way to meet new people and do something that I love. I was right!
Man, what a ball. This is a fun age. They're all still "kids", but you can see the inkling of adult in their eyes and behavior. I'm completely fascinated and man are they funny and fun to watch. It's also much more energy driven. I think because I have a little one, I wanted to branch out a little bit. I have so many ideas for the younger children that I feel like instead of enjoying myself, I'm thinking about what could be done differently to facilitate this or that when I see the kids with a glazed look. It's the result of being a mother and doing this all of the time. With the rising stars, those mothers know how to work those kids best, so I get to go along and not worry about it other than holding cards and providing a second or third set of hands or eyes. Also, they're super interactive and exciting about memorization (for tickets to be traded at Friday's Laser Tag event post VBS)...so bribery works and works well.
Anyway, it's been a ball so far with three more nights to go. I'm sure it will only get better.
For the past three years, I've volunteered to help with vacation bible school.
It's kind of funny when I think back to my first year. I had just started attending our church, was pretty pregnant (7 months) and I knew very few people. I just jumped in awkwardly - like I do with everything. I didn't make it the whole week due to my pregnancy. VBS didn't end until 8:00 p.m. that year and working a full day along with that was just too much for me. A new friend, Allyson, who would become a good friend of mine, told me that week that she had also just found out she was pregnant and ten weeks along. She now has the most beautiful little boy, Noah and we're working together again.
Three years has flown by. This is one of the few mile-markers of my life that's an annual event not related to some kind of holiday, so it exposes me to that evolution of time without other sentiments. I look around and the faces all look the same to me, except the kids are a little bit older now. Instead of working with the babies, I've chosen to volunteer with the Rising Stars, who are 4 - 6th graders. I'm meeting other mothers than the ones I usually hang out with, which was kind of my point. After all of this time, there are still so many people I see at church, but don't know them by name. I want to change this without running through the sanctuary on Sunday morning with my hand extended like some kind of campaigning politician introducing myself. So, this seemed like a great way to meet new people and do something that I love. I was right!
Man, what a ball. This is a fun age. They're all still "kids", but you can see the inkling of adult in their eyes and behavior. I'm completely fascinated and man are they funny and fun to watch. It's also much more energy driven. I think because I have a little one, I wanted to branch out a little bit. I have so many ideas for the younger children that I feel like instead of enjoying myself, I'm thinking about what could be done differently to facilitate this or that when I see the kids with a glazed look. It's the result of being a mother and doing this all of the time. With the rising stars, those mothers know how to work those kids best, so I get to go along and not worry about it other than holding cards and providing a second or third set of hands or eyes. Also, they're super interactive and exciting about memorization (for tickets to be traded at Friday's Laser Tag event post VBS)...so bribery works and works well.
Anyway, it's been a ball so far with three more nights to go. I'm sure it will only get better.
Working Mom
Sigh...adding insult to my injury...
I have embarked on the great dancing class journey for Clare as she is quickly closing in on two and it is time. Want to know what I have discovered? Well, it's crap. I have found that all of the classes offered by the "best of the best" are Mommy and me classes (which are great), but they are somewhere between 9 a.m. and 10:15 a.m.
Wow. Isn't that awesome! I mean, I cannot wait to take Clare to....
Oh wait...
I guess those of us who work and have children, well, our children can just hobble on one leg and call it dancing.
It's not bad enough that I question my motives everyday that I drop Clare off at school. I hate leaving her. I wish I could spend every waking moment of my life with her. But, am I a bad mother because I actually want to go to work? I don't think so! I don't judge stay-at-home moms, why do I feel like the world is judging me in return (of course it is in a nice, neat, and label conscious passive aggressive package called "dance class time smack in the face")?
Mason has offered to downsize, and we can do what it would take to make it work. I think for awhile this would have been preferable to him, in all honesty. The problem is, I like it. I like to work. I enjoy the time I spend learning about other people, about myself in foreign environments, doing my job, getting that fulfillment, feeling like I contribute to many people's happiness. I feel like I bring this joy home with me and that translates positively to her. Also, once I'm with her, I'm WITH her. From the moment she wakes, to the moment she's out of my hands, she has my 100% undivided attention (minus ten minutes to dry the hair). The same is true from the time I see her once I'm off until she goes to bed (no exceptions for hair here).
Will she be any less of a woman than her friends with non-workforce moms? I doubt it. Will she be any better? Of course, because she's my baby and she'll always be better than anyone on the planet - jeez. Yeah, even we working moms get this question correct!
Oh well, stupid dance classes. I'll find one, and when I do, I'm telling all of my other working mother friends. One day this will make a difference in business and then all of those places that only offer classes from 9:00 to 11:00 will be forced to recognize our "Mommy and Me" time too - even if it's after 5:00 in the afternoon - or at least this is how it works inside my mind.
I have embarked on the great dancing class journey for Clare as she is quickly closing in on two and it is time. Want to know what I have discovered? Well, it's crap. I have found that all of the classes offered by the "best of the best" are Mommy and me classes (which are great), but they are somewhere between 9 a.m. and 10:15 a.m.
Wow. Isn't that awesome! I mean, I cannot wait to take Clare to....
Oh wait...
I guess those of us who work and have children, well, our children can just hobble on one leg and call it dancing.
It's not bad enough that I question my motives everyday that I drop Clare off at school. I hate leaving her. I wish I could spend every waking moment of my life with her. But, am I a bad mother because I actually want to go to work? I don't think so! I don't judge stay-at-home moms, why do I feel like the world is judging me in return (of course it is in a nice, neat, and label conscious passive aggressive package called "dance class time smack in the face")?
Mason has offered to downsize, and we can do what it would take to make it work. I think for awhile this would have been preferable to him, in all honesty. The problem is, I like it. I like to work. I enjoy the time I spend learning about other people, about myself in foreign environments, doing my job, getting that fulfillment, feeling like I contribute to many people's happiness. I feel like I bring this joy home with me and that translates positively to her. Also, once I'm with her, I'm WITH her. From the moment she wakes, to the moment she's out of my hands, she has my 100% undivided attention (minus ten minutes to dry the hair). The same is true from the time I see her once I'm off until she goes to bed (no exceptions for hair here).
Will she be any less of a woman than her friends with non-workforce moms? I doubt it. Will she be any better? Of course, because she's my baby and she'll always be better than anyone on the planet - jeez. Yeah, even we working moms get this question correct!
Oh well, stupid dance classes. I'll find one, and when I do, I'm telling all of my other working mother friends. One day this will make a difference in business and then all of those places that only offer classes from 9:00 to 11:00 will be forced to recognize our "Mommy and Me" time too - even if it's after 5:00 in the afternoon - or at least this is how it works inside my mind.
The Itch is getting worse
Ok God...what is it?
Lay it on me.
My soul is restless and will not be calmed.
There are needs, so many...where, who, when?
You keep putting ideas in front of me, but no single thing has manifested itself.
Please pull back the veil of how you wish to use me.
What if instead of making under privileged people feel pitied (which I know I personally hate to feel)...we turned it around and started a movement of volunteerism that teaches all people (those in need and those without need) to be volunteers themselves. The idea being that we aren't really the haves and have nots as we've been trained by society to believe, but we are all meaningful in our abilities to give and able to give regardless of what we have (obviously financial giving being at the bottom of the list). How would this change the world if we all felt the empowerment of feeling necessary and viable.
Lay it on me.
My soul is restless and will not be calmed.
There are needs, so many...where, who, when?
You keep putting ideas in front of me, but no single thing has manifested itself.
Please pull back the veil of how you wish to use me.
What if instead of making under privileged people feel pitied (which I know I personally hate to feel)...we turned it around and started a movement of volunteerism that teaches all people (those in need and those without need) to be volunteers themselves. The idea being that we aren't really the haves and have nots as we've been trained by society to believe, but we are all meaningful in our abilities to give and able to give regardless of what we have (obviously financial giving being at the bottom of the list). How would this change the world if we all felt the empowerment of feeling necessary and viable.
Curiouser and Curiouser
If you want others to be happy, practice compassion.
If you want yourself to be happy, practice compassion.
If you want yourself to be happy, practice compassion.
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