i want a do-over

I can't believe that January is almost over already. Where in the world did a whole month go? I have absolutely nothing to show for it except for some packed boxes, a couple of really cool souvenirs that my husband brought back for me from Haiti, a dandy new "Puffin' Penguin" nebulizer that the baby needed for his RSV, the extra pounds from the holidays, and oh yeah, approximately 47 newly sprouted gray hairs. Yeah. Peachy, ain't it? Maybe I have more to show for it than I thought. Just ask my jeans.

I think I have the mid-winter blahs. It's almost like buyer's remorse for the new year. That's weird, isn't it? It's not like you can take it back for a refund.

"Excuse me. This new year isn't quite fitting right and so far has not been what I expected at all. I'd like to exchange it for a shiny, new 2008 that hasn't been opened yet. And can you backdate that receipt? And make it snappy. I've lost 31 days already."

I guess I just thought the new year would start in the "new" house and we'd be all moved in, settling back into our daily routine. Yep, shiny happy people we'd be. And then when things didn't unfold that way, and I found myself unpacking boxes to get to stuff I need, I started to feel like I haven't actually started my new year after all. I wanted a "clean" start. Well, it's almost February, and the calendar is certainly not waiting for me to get my sorry rump in gear, now is it?

I just feel like my life is on hold, and the music playing in the background is really starting to bug me. I'm not really a New Years Resolution making kind of gal because I'm not really a New Years Resolution keeping kind of gal either. At least not after the first 36 hours or so. I'm not a great finisher, but I can be a strong starter. That's good, right? *sigh* But I like to have goals as much as the next person. A plan. To be headed in a direction. At this point, any direction would be better than this inertia I seem to be wallowing in.

Maybe I'll make a list. I like lists. Grocery lists, movies I'd like to see, books I want to read, places I'd like to visit, people I should send cards to, things to do...it really doesn't matter what kind. I like them a lot. At least there's a plan. Yeah, I think I'll go make a list... Here it goes.

Top 5 Ways to Get Your Booty Off the Literal or Proverbial Couch and in Gear for the New Year

5. Realize that it's almost February and you have NO IDEA what you want to accomplish during the reamining 11 months...and counting.

4. Remember that your teeniest one, the very last one ever, will celebrate his first birthday in two months, and while you are waiting to start living this year, he is growing like gangbusters right in front of you. Time waits for no baby. Or no baby waits for time. Or something like that.

3. Acknowledge that this is the year you officially become the parent of a teenager. goodlordmissagnes! If that doesn't shake the cobwebs loose, what will?

2. Understand that the longer you wait to "start" your new year with all its shiny goodness, the tighter your jeans become. In theory of course.

1. Hear your two year old (who is supposed to be potty training) run through the house screaming, "DOOOONNNN'TTTT SMEEEELLLLL MEEEEEE!"

Ok! Ok! I'm up! Happy New Year!

buckle up. it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

I love this man. We have been married for almost 15 years, most of which have been awesome. However, when I think back on some things we've been through, I wonder how it is we are still here, still loving each other, still relatively sane, living the life of grown-up people, raising kids...and no one has bolted. Not the kids. Not us. No one has gone out for "milk" never to return. It's a wonder.

You see, when we married in March, I envisioned the beginning of springtime. Buds peeking out on the trees, grass starting to turn that gorgeous shade of green that invites you to throw down a blanket and have yourself a picnic. I imagined birds singing their happy little songs as we exited the church to begin our new life together.

Yeah.

What we got instead was snow and ice and what was being referred to as a "blizzard" in the South. Roads were being closed, and people began to panic because y'all all know if you live in the South that if anything white falls from the sky, you should consider investing in a cow and a bread machine. Because in a radius of 100 miles or so of the predicted flurry, there is nary a loaf of bread or jug of milk to be found. Most of the time these crazed shopping sprees are for naught, and the dreaded might be, maybe so, could happen snow never leaves the heavenlies. Or at best resembles dandruff. Not so on this particular occasion. We got ice and lots of it. We managed to get married, and guests even showed up. Bless their hearts. But we postponed our honeymoon when we found out that the only thing open in our planned destination in the mountains was a Shoney's, and no one had power. Lovely. We "skated" our way to some place in town and spent the night there.

This should have been a sign of things to come my friends. This was no boring life we were in for.

Fast forward one year. We decided to celebrate our anniversary with dinner and a movie. Not incredibly fancy plans, but we were happy with that. Until during our dinner, a rather large gentleman seated with his wife several tables away began to cough. And cough. To make a rather long story short, he got choked on his steak, presumably had a heart attack from the stress and passed away right there on the floor of the restaurant. The memory of his poor wife will forever be etched into my brain because they seated her at the end of our booth while the emergency personnel tried unsuccessfully to revive him. We could not leave. I will never forget their names and have over the years whispered a prayer on her behalf when I remembered our tragic first anniversary.

After that, other than welcoming our first baby into the world which was fantastic, we had a couple of relatively uneventful years until the Spring of 1998. I was home alone with our 2 year old and four months pregnant with Princess on a rainy, yucky day. Most of the day, all of the regular daytime t.v. programming had been preempted by weather news and warnings. I left it on just in case, but everything seemed to be happening in surrounding areas. Until that afternoon. I happened to hear the little "beep beep" for what seemed like the 173rd time that day, but this time I decided to take a look. And there they were, saying that a tornado had been spotted and was heading our direction in a matter of minutes. We lived in a very small house, and the only interior "room" was a closet. I still really didn't believe it, but I removed the vacuum cleaner from the closet to make room for me and the baby. No sooner than I had sat down with him on my lap, it was on top of us. My ears popped from the change in pressure, and then the deafening roar and crashing began. It couldn't have lasted for very long, although in my mind it couldn't be over soon enough. I remember vividly praying out loud for God to protect us as I held my toddler tightly next to me with one hand, and the door closed with the other. I didn't know if the house would collapse on us or if we'd end up in the next state. There is no knowing these things in the darkness of a coat closet. When the noise subsided, I opened the door to find that the house itself was still relatively intact. I ran outside to see the damage, and I could see through my neighbor's house. Half of it was completely gone. And our roof. It had been torn off right up to the place we had been sitting and then stopped. Coincidence? No, I don't think so. I believe God heard us that day...the prayers of a pregnant mommy and a two year old boy. I remember shaking and not being able to make my hands be still, but I did not cry. Not until I saw my husband running down the street to get to us. All of the roads were blocked by trees and sizzling power lines so he had to run pretty far to get home. When he got to the door, I remember falling into him, the gravity of it all just beginning to sink in.

We moved on from this event, having learned many lessons about what is really important in life and later that year had a beautiful baby girl.

We moved several times over the next few years and had another baby just two months before that little storm called Katrina left us in the wake of yet another natural disaster. I don't know why, but that whole weather thing is kicking our butts. Suffice it to say, yes, we evacuated, and came home to find a water mark almost six feet up our walls and the contents a total loss. Again, we were reminded of God's mercy and provision as our family was safe and sound, and God returned to us all the material things we lost. And more.

Jay used to joke that we pretty much had all the natural disasters covered except for an earthquake and a volcano, and that our next ministry position would surely be in California or Hawaii. Sometimes he is so not funny.

I guess what I've learned through our experiences together is that God is good. He is faithful. And that no matter what we go through, it can be used "for our good and for His glory."

I started out telling you about how much I love my husband. I really do, and I would not want to go through this sometimes crazy life with anyone else. We are good together. And we've ridden out a lot of "storms" together...the proverbial kind and those of the weather variety. He's kind and compassionate, patient and passionate about life, and such a way-better person than I am. He says he married up, but I'm quite sure I did. We are in this for the long-haul. Good times and bad, I'd follow him anywhere.

Well, except maybe California or Hawaii.

I love these feet!

There's just something about his chubby little 'foots' that I love. After changing a diaper today, I was kissing and tickling his feet, listening to him giggle, and I was suddenly carried away by my thoughts.

I began to think of how he loves mostly to go barefoot around the house because he likes to be able to see his "toesies." But how on occasion he wants to wear his socks because he enjoys sliding on the floors, and will squeal, "Wook at me. I'm 'skatering.'"

I then thought about how quickly he has grown from that tiny newborn foot that could barely hold a sock to a very active toddler who loves to jump and dance and twirl to any music that finds its way to his ears. He's almost helpless to sit still when the music starts. It transports him to his own little world. We just stand back and watch. And enjoy.

I thought about all the places that his feet will one day take him. How sometimes the path will be stony and rough, and the journey will require extra effort. And that there will be thorny patches when he will have to determine in his heart if the destination is worth the pain the journey will cause. Times of running through tall grass (probably in our yard) and carefree jumping into puddles.

Before I even realized it, my thoughts had turned into a prayer for him, that God would make a way for this child of mine. That He would even now be carving a way through the rocky roads of his future, that He would make the grass a little greener and would teach him how to rise above the muck and the mire that this world is so full of by teaching him to set his feet on a rock. The Rock.

My heart felt so heavy for the few short moments that I had been carried away by my thoughts. But as I poured out my heart to God, I was comforted by His astoundingly great love for us. This scripture came to mind. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11) I love how The Message says "I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out--plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for." WOW! I just love that God has it all worked out already. I can stop worrying. I know as a parent we can't choose the path our kids will follow, but hopefully we lead by an example worthy to be followed. Follow me as I follow Christ...

Amen.

Toddler Talk: Part Deux

Me: "Wyatt, please put your toys in the basket so no one will trip."


sitting on the couch...

Wyatt: "Whuh ebber."


thinking I've surely misunderstood...

Me: "What did you say?"


complete with eye roll...

Wyatt: "WHUH. EBBER."





after getting choked on a cracker...

Wyatt: "Mama, I don't want deez."


Me: "What's wrong?"


Wyatt: "Deez cwackuhs are dane-juh-wuss."


Me: "They're dangerous?"


Wyatt: "Yeah."





while watching his baby brother receive a breathing treatment...

Wyatt: "Do me! Do me! Bweeve me!"


Me: "You don't need a breathing treatment, Sweetie. You're not sick."


Wyatt: "Do me! Dat's awesome!"

(maybe we should stop referring to albuterol as "baby crack")

totally noocular dude

Upon my return to the house this morning, I announced to my husband that I really should not be allowed out of the house unaccompanied ever again. I know it sounds a little dramatic, but you know me, I would never exaggerate.

Ahem.

You see, this morning I had a very early appointment with my rheumatologist. And before I go on, I totally know how that sounds and can almost get a whiff of the musty, old smell that's conjured up by the very words themselves. Appointment with my rheumatologist. Just sounds old, doesn't it?

I remember the first time I went; my husband accompanied me. The waiting room door opened, and a nurse appeared and called out five or six names, one right after the other. I thought that was kind of odd, everyone having their own appointment time and all. Then, as I waited by the door for the rest of these people whose names had been called to shuffle on over, I decided to go last and hold the door open for everyone. I remember whispering to my husband, "I'm not sure I want to be a part of this group." I'm pretty sure he shooshed me, and said to keep moving. I began to wonder if we would have some sort of group meeting or something, but alas, as we wandered down a couple of hallways, everyone was deposited into their very own exam rooms. Me included.

Anyway.

So I'm on my way, and traffic is not too bad. I have to insert here that I've made this trip numerous times by myself over the past few months and have been quite capable of driving to my desired location and arriving on time. However, this morning, at what turned out to be less than one mile away from where I was headed, all of the sudden, nothing looked familiar, and I began to wonder if I'd gone too far. I guess we've all sort of zoned out while driving, but this was like I had been transported to a foreign city for a few seconds, and I really thought to myself, "I have no idea where I am." Luckily, before that thought had time to thoroughly embed itself into my brain and completely freak me out, I saw my intended building rise into view. Whew! Sometimes I really wonder if I've had a lobotomy. Really, my hair is sore and everything.

Yippee! I made it. I parked and went into the building and on up to the floor of the Muscle and Bone Clinic. It was quite crowded for so early in the morning, but only one person stood between me and the receptionists' desk. The next available very nice lady called me up with the usual, "Can I help you?" I stepped forward and said, "Yes, I have a 7:30 appointment with Dr..." And it was as if I had been struck by lightning that very second. His name was gone. This man who I've been seeing regularly over the past few months. Gone, do you hear me? The receptionist smiled, sort of, and asked for my name which I did manage to remember and then told me I could have a seat. "Quinet! Dr. Quinet! See? I do know why I'm here!" I decided to just sit down before I hurt myself. Or my brain started smoking.

You see, this is not my first little "mishap" if you will. These kinds of occurrences make you doubt yourself. Your ability to function. Your need for "assistance." *sigh* Yeah.

Well, I did have the chance to ask Doc about my headaches, forgetfulness and the like, and if it could possibly have something to do with the medication I am now on for my R.A. (please God, let it be side effects) He smiled and sort of concurred in a somewhat non-committal way that these maybe, possibly could be side effects, especially the headaches. That's just great. We can fix the headaches, but the stupidity? Well, that's just our way of sayin', "Thanks for playin'."

Right about now, I'm trying to write it off to being tired; I mean I did get up before the sun this morning, for cryin' out loud. Nah, lots of people do that. Well, we've been under a lot of stress lately, what with trying to get the house finished and everything. That could be it? Probably not. Lots of people are under stress and don't forget their first born's name. Hmm. The moon! Yeah, the moon has been in some weird phase lately. I mean if it can affect the tide, surely it could suck some important information out of my head. With little resistance, mind you. Yep. I'm going with the moon.

Well, as I sit waiting for Doc to return with a prescription, it suddenly dawns on me that I have another appointment. Today. As soon as he's done with me. Now yesterday, I totally knew that I had two appointments, but today being a brand-new day and all, I can honestly say it did not cross my mind until that very instant. Luckily, it's just a few floors down. Shouldn't be a problem. Or so I thought.

I make it down to the proper floor and head to the desk. This place is crawling with people! I guess everyone is just anxious to get started on this year's deductibles or something. Anyway, there are two receptionists (and I use this word loosely) behind the desk chewing gum, leaning toward each other and no doubt catching up on their gossip, because as I approached the counter, they stopped chatting and chewing momentarily, and looking perturbed asked, "Yes?" I told them that Dr. Q had ordered a bone scan for this morning.

And this is what the gossiping gum-chewer said. "Oh. That's gonna be in nuclear medicine. Go around the desk, down the hall a little, turn left, then follow the blue line." And she promptly returned to chewing and talking, talking and chewing.

Whuh? Huh? Nuclear medicine? Blue line? Ok. I can do blue line.

So I rounded the desk, went down the hall a little, turned left, and sure enough! There it was. A blue line right there on the floor. So I began to follow it. Like a rat sniffing his way through a cruel maze, I followed that blue line. When it zigged, I zigged. When it zagged? I zagged too. Around corners and through long corridors, I followed that little blue line. I followed its trail so well in fact, that when I saw shoes approaching, I merely threw up my hand as both a friendly hello, and a sign that I could not be bothered. Surely they could see that I was following THE BLUE LINE. Into the bowels of the medical center it led, where civilians ceased to exist. Only people dressed in white coats carrying on quiet conversations in the hallway were to be found. But I stuck to my mission of follwing the blue line with all the tenacity of a bloodhound tracking the scent of a serial killer. And when they saw me coming, they ceased their hushed tones momentarily, and after I'd passed, went on with their little secrets. They were so impressed with my line-following abilities that it rendered them speechless, no doubt. When the blue line ceased to exist, I finally was able to raise my head, and there it was. NUCLEAR MEDICINE.

I must say, it was a fairly ominous-looking sign for what appeared to be a tiny room with only one occupant, other than the girl behind the desk. I think he might have been talking to himself, but I can't say for sure. But beyond that door? Who knows what goes on back there?! Considering the length of time I followed that blue line, I could be underground in a neighboring city, for all I know. This could be the very place where nuclear "stuff" is stored or manufactured. Eeewww. I think I want out of here. I quickly tell the girl I'm scheduled for a bone scan. She checks her little clipboard, looks back at me, and inquires, "What kind of scan?" Now, if you're still reading, you know that what with me being unable to remember the doctor's name and stuff, that this was perhaps the wrong question to ask. Or maybe the right question, but DEFINITELY the wrong person. Then she says, "Oh, a bone DENSITY scan?" And just like in the cartoons when the giant light bulb appears over the head, BING! "Yeah, that sounds right." She smiles politely and asks, "Did you follow the blue line?" And I reply, somewhat haughtily, "Why, yes. Yes, I did." Because you know, them was some good blue line followin' skills I just exhibited. And I bet you can guess what she said next. "You need to follow the blue line all the way back the way you came, then go around the desk, take a left at the escalators and blah, blah, blah."

DING! DANG! I'm not sure I let her finish before I backed out of there and commenced following the blue line. AGAIN. I think I was doing o.k. on my reverse trip until I reached a set of closed metal doors, that I did not remember on my first trip down the blue mile. Well, some of those white-coated whisperers must have closed them, I thought to myself. Or for all I know, they could have totally been closed the first time around, but I, now possessing the attention span of a gnat, just don't remember. So I open them. Now let's see, this doesn't look familiar.

*boohoo*sniff*hoo*

Then I see him. It's a white-coated person who looks only hours older than my son. So I say, "Excuse me, Doogie. Obviously, I'm old and stupid and can't seem to back my way out of NUCLEAR MEDICINE as well as I thought, what with the blue line just suddenly disappearing and all. Could you please tell me where I could get me one of them bone DENSITY scans?" And he proceeded to not just give me directions, because clearly, anyone not able to back their way out of NUCLEAR MEDICINE via the blue line, cannot just be given directions all willy-nilly, but instead needs a personal escort. So there I am. Following this VERY YOUNG person in a white coat down a very short corridor back to the place I started. He could have stopped there. Thanks, I can take it from here. Maybe. But NO. He continues to lead the obviously inept woman around the desk, through the over-crowded waiting room, beside the escalators and all the way to the door. And then you know what he does? HE READS ME THE SIGN! hahahahaha I almost peed my pants. I think I muttered a "Thanks, Junior." And he continued, I'm certain, back into the epicenter, probably to cook up something noocular.

I got the stupid scan. Not a big deal. But just to top off the morning, and make sure my day turned out great, I got to hear someone tell me that my scan looks fine. I am perfectly dense. Yeah. OK. Thanks.

Give me my crown already!

So this morning Wild Man decided he no longer likes one of his favorite breakfasts ever...the "op tart," and I found myself a little frustrated because it was one of those mornings that frequently happens after the holidays. The kind where you hover in that sort of limbo between the holiday itself actually being over and not really knowing what to do next, what with it being a brand new year and all. And having had a little person sneezing and coughing and showering a whole myriad of bodily fluids in my direction for over a week now, I was feeling a little under the weather and quite frankly was looking forward to a no-brainer breakfast this morning. One that involves nothing more than ripping it open, as Wild Man does not require that his tarts actually be popped.



Well.



In the kindest, most patient tone I could muster, I asked His Royal Hiney, if not a pop tart, then what would he be having for breakfast this morning?

"Peanut Budder pweeze."

Peanut Butter? Are you kidding me? The thought of it first thing in the morning, I must admit, made me gag a little, but he does love it. And he asked so politely. And well, you know, I aim to please.

So here was his breakfast.



Yes, those are "cookies." You got a problem with that? I figured as long as I was racing toward a "Mother of the Year" award what with serving my 2 year old peanut butter for breakfast, I might as well seal the nomination with some cookies a la carte. Besides, I didn't have the energy or the stomach to actually spread that stuff on bread that early in the morning and have to endure the smell. In fact I actually considered just handing him the jar, but being nominated and all, I took the extra loving and motherly step and actually spooned a glob of it into a bowl so he could dip his "treks" cookies into it.


While watching a little t.v.


I know! Am I gonna win or what? Then I decided that while he was occupied with what those health and fitness kooks experts might possibly consider THE MOST NUTRITIOUS BREAKFAST EVER, I could quickly check my email in the next room.

And came back to find this.



and this



and I swear I couldn't have been gone for more than 5 or 10 minutes...tops (in dog years).

But it's o.k. As long as I am in the running for M.O.T.Y., I will not only indulge him with the best breakfast ever, I will also let him participate in another of his very favorite activities.



The boy does love a good shower. A good long shower. Almost as much as he likes getting mucked up with food and dirt. If only the hot water would last, I could go do my shopping for the week and drop by Roe's for a quick trim. Oh heck, and highlights.

Oh I kid. You know I wouldn't have time for the trim. That's just silly.

So let's recap.

I fed my son peanut butter for breakfast.

With cookies.

While unattended.

And watching t.v.

Then stuck him in the shower.

A nice looonnnggg shower.

I don't mean to brag, but I seriously think I'm a shoe-in for this award.

By the way, how do you like my hair?

ringin' in the new year

dance with the one that brung ya or at least one that looks slightly familiar from the neck up. whoo hoo! here's our tribute to spiking and nogging of the egg. oh, i kid. why ruin it with nog? oh, there i go again. i'm such a kidder. go ahead. get your dance on!

Try JibJab Sendables!