I was surprised...

...at how disconnected I felt all weekend. I went to Dallas to our annual LCMS Texas District Early Childhood Educators Conference, and I had trouble getting my phone to connect to the internet, which meant I was only able to check my email once a day, and I didn't check facebook at all, so that I didn't use too much data at the end of the month.

I felt so...out of touch. I don't know what this surprises me, I know how wired I am, and yet I wasn't expecting this feeling of disconnect. I even had to make up for it a little by texting with C, something I -never- do. I should say, "I need to just remove as much of this technology from my life as possible." But, well I don't want to. I like being connected to old friends, and knowing what's going on in the lives of my family, and feel connected to them because of it. I don't have enough time in my life to engage long phone conversations with all of the people on my facebook page, nor do I have any desire to do so. I like that my phone gives me instant access to all of these things.

*shrug* I honestly don't know the right answer.

I do know I had a great time this weekend. I learned quite a bit and I enjoyed a time of fun fellowship with my coworkers outside of our day-to-day. So I won't let the little bit of disconnect from the rest of my life take that away from me.

Yeah...well..okay fine!

I have to wonder sometimes at all the little things that happen in life and why they annoy the crap out of me. I think you get to the point when you just can't not sweat the small stuff. I try really hard to not let it bug me, and I'm lucky to have friends that don't mind listening to me bitch about the little things so that it is easier to let go.

But right now, I just can't seem to get past the little stuff. I finally got my car back, and now it's broken again. No mouse this time, but I have a feeling I'm going to lose the use of my car for a couple of days. I hope not. I'm hoping for the we just need to reboot your car's computer, give us an hour, route. There's more, I could list them all, but that doesn't serve any purpose, except to bring you all down with me, and really what's the point of that.

Nah, I think I'll talk about the joys and the blessings in my life, and maybe I'll not be so bothered by the desire to claw my allergy laden puffy, itchy eyes from my skull. *chuckle*

I really want to talk about K. A few weeks ago we saw her psychiatrist, and increased her meds. I am not a big fan of blaming all her behavior on the meds, but the change in her was marked. I'm happy for her, and the ease of her life when the medicine works right. She knows the difference in herself when she hasn't taken it and it makes her more willing to remember and that gives me hope.

I know I shouldn't, but I lay awake at night from time to time and think about the what ifs. What if she can never be on her own? Am I strong enough to care for her for the rest of my life? I don't know, but what I do know is that she is precious and this time right now she is well, and happy, except for P.E. class when the teacher wouldn't let her get a drink because she was playing while waiting her turn. :)

I have this amazing opportunity to sit on the floor and play a really boring game, that suddenly is fun and funny because I'm playing with K. She has this knack for making everything she's doing fun, even when it's the spelling homework she hates. She laughs freely and loves hugely, and it is catching.

But my blessed life doesn't end there, I have my lovely twelve year old, who is beginning to come into what is a very interesting personality. She's bright, and curious and so incredibly smart. We have these great conversations and I'm starting to see the woman she could become.

I have a husband who wants to enrich our lives and our marriage and it has brought fun and laughter tenfold into our lives. I am fortunate to be in a career I absolutely love, with all of my heart. I am well and truly bless, and the Lord has been very good to me.

Thanks! I needed that reminder that the small stuff is just that, small and though it can feel overwhelming, it doesn't eclipse the beauty that is in my life.

Birthday Ponderings

Wanted: One time machine, capable of sending me back in time to inhabit myself 13 years ago, armed with the knowledge I have now.

But Sarah, why would you want to go back?

Ah, because I would make such DIFFERENT choices. I would spend more time watching my children sleep, and sliding down the yellow plastic slide at the park and reading that extra story, and I would have started K on meds a full year earlier. I would have taken more pictures and spent that extra hour at the park even though I was tired and ready to go home, but they weren't. I would have listened to my husbands advice sooner, and been more willing to admit he was right.

Of course there are things I would do the same. I would still vaccinate my children, and I would still have taken time to sleep in on Saturdays and I would still let them climb to the top, even though I was so sure they were going to fall and break an arm. I would still rock them to sleep, and sit bleary-eyed in the doorway of their room listening to them breath as they struggled through the croup. I would still pester their teachers with questions that every mom wants to ask and sometimes never does.

But then again...

I wouldn't have the children I have now. They would be different and I rather like who they are. Even when I have to cut gum out of K's hair or pay the extra $125.00 on my phone bill B racked up using the internet, though maybe I'd have disable the internet from the get go...

Still, I love the crazy mixed up girls in my life and I'm so glad to have celebrated another year of their lives with them.

Strange Rudeness

So let me set the scene for you. I had a bunch of errands to run today and one of them was a quick stop at Hobby Lobby to get some flag paper for Katie's Veteran's Day poster. I get what I need and go stand in the line of six people at the only open register. *sigh*

As I'm standing there, the lady behind me strikes up a conversation. Not an unusual occurrence and I am not bothered by talking to strangers in the store as we all wait in line to buy our things. This conversation took the strangest turn...

Her, small thin, older lady with gray hair going white. "That's pretty paper. 4th of July scrapbook page?"

Me: "Oh, no, I'm helping my daughter make a poster of family and friends that are veterans."

Her: "That's nice. How old is your daughter?"

Me: "Almost nine. Her birthday is this Friday."

Her: "Oh that's nice. Is she your only child?"

Ok, now don't get me wrong, so far this is all innocuous and I have nothing to hide and I'm very proud of my children, and I like to humor old people, because frankly I hope young people will humor me when I'm old.

Me: "No, I have another daughter, she just turned twelve."

At this, the woman's eyes narrowed a bit, and she took in my brown peasant top, ripped jeans, battered converse all stars, tie-dye hair band (the only one I could find, thank you very much) and her eyes stopped on my bare left hand. At this point I got a bit uncomfortable. I have always worried in the back of my mind that people, complete strangers, judge me based on my age and the age of my children and my lack of wedding ring. I don't wear one, because I lost it and haven't gotten around to replacing the thing yet.

Her: "Honey, how old are you?"

All I could do was blink. She looked like a sweet grandma. And to my own astonishment I freaking answered her. "Thirty-one." Not a number I'm ashamed of in the least, I'm quite proud to be 31 and enjoy my life and the gifts I have been given.

That seemed to offend her sensibilities when she did the math in her head. She put her hand on my arm, looked me in my baffled eyes and said, I kid you not, "You need to get married and settle down honey. But then I don't know a man in his right mind that would take such a wayward girl with half grown children."

I'm sorry, what? Wait, did she just say that to me? Really? I stood there dumbfounded. There wasn't anyone in line behind her and the woman in front of me, I think, pretended not to hear, and I was saved from saying something horrible to this nice looking old lady by another cashier walking up and calling her from the line. I paid for my four sheets of scrapbook paper, and went to sit in my car. Mostly I was and am just offended. It's none of her business if I'm married or not. Or how old I was when I chose to bring life into this world.

Honestly, did she think she was doing me a service by voicing her backward opinion? I don't really want to know. Though I think I will make time to go get a new wedding band this weekend.

See it only took 35 days to get things back in order

So, hi. Miss me? Nah, I didn't think so. I won't make excuses for myself. I will say that things got hairy here in Sarah Town and I needed the time off from well, everything. I have not blogged, message boarded, written a short story, worked on my novel, or played WOW in 35 days. Did I miss it? Yup. Am I back to daily updates? Nope. Am I glad I did it? You better believe it.

Next time I take a hiatus, I'm including Facebook and Yahoo! News, and I'm only answering email via my phone. Because email is just too damned impossible to go on hiatus from email.

I enjoyed the extra time with the girls, and with Husband. I missed them, missed sitting curled up on the bed with hot chocolate and watching a "scary" movie. (In our house, Where the Wild Things Are, Hocus Pocus, and The Haunted Mansion are scary movies) I enjoyed that special bonding time my whole family seemed to have needed. So needless to day I'll not be picking the computer back up every evening. I will however carve out some time two or three times a week for me to blog, write and other wonderfully creative things.


So on to what prompted me to blog again.

You see we are moving. The when of it is still very much up in the air, but the fact of it it real. We've bantered about it for years, but really, it's time. The girls need more space, our crap needs more space, I want a kitchen island and sliding glass shower doors. Can't have those in a 1100 square foot 2 bedroom apartment.

In the process of readying our home for the inevitable move, Husband decided to clean things. One of those things is our closet, a.k.a. the catch-all. In the very very back of the closet in this unusable space corner we tucked the boxes of stuff we want to keep but have no place to display or store in such a tiny apartment. So Husband decided to start with them. Among them was a small slightly battered old white paper box, simple marked Sarah in my Grandma Rose's handwriting. It was things she placed in a box for me just after I moved out of her home. I remember when she gave it to me. It was when I lived in that little loft off Cooper Street.

I never opened that box. Never. I just carted it with me from apartment to apartment for the last 13 years. It just got moved and stuck in the back of each closet. Never opened, never explored. Why? I didn't want to be sad. I didn't want to know what she thought I needed to have with me. I was hoping she's put a letter in it and I wanted to save it for when I was older and could be sentimental about the thoughts in it.

Well, Husband decided it was time to open it. I cried. He pulled out his pocket knife, the old tape didn't need much coaxing and open came the box. It held no letter. I cried again. Instead I found a greeting card my sister had given me with "Everything I need to know, I learned from my English Teacher" (a popular form of sentiment in the 90's) on it, some books, a pair of socks, my junior high school year books, a few utility bill type papers, an old check register, some random pictures, and a Bible. A very lovely old brown Bible. I was perplexed. It wasn't mine. I didn't recognize it. So we flipped through it. It belongs to my uncle.

I have no idea why she put that Bible in there, or if she even knew it belonged to my uncle. It may have been stashed in the bottom of the dresser I used while living with my grandparents, that had also belonged to the same uncle when he was growing up. It might have been on a top closet shelf, for the very same reason, my room was once his room. Or it might have been a sentiment of her's, maybe she was hoping it would protect me as I journeyed through this life. I don't know. My grandma passed away almost ten years ago. I still miss her.

I put the Bible in the mail today, sending it back to its original owner. I wonder if he knew it was missing.

Something else I worry over...

You know we all worry about how messed up our kids are going to be, but I think it begins to take on an entirely different meaning when you have a child with special needs. Though I'm not sure that K's needs are all that special in the grand scheme of things. Especially when I see other children who are not as high functioning as she is, and have the same troubles.

Anyway, my point here is I wondered again today how messed up I've already made my kids. I mean I know the goal is to raise them, so that they are independent and -want- to leave, but do I do that to the detriment of their mental health and further more, what is healthy? I know each person has their own definition of healthy, and happy, and normal, but do or rather will my kids fit with in the acceptable parameters of normal?

I don't worry so much about B, though I have realized in the last week that I cling a little too tightly and she really really needs me to let go. I mean really let go, not pretend to let go and then follow along behind her hiding in the bushes. She's already figured out who she is, well in so much as an 11 year old can figure that out. She smart, funny, has a knack for finding the engaging in any situation, loves fully, expresses emotion with passion, and knows what she wants to be when she grows up. I've been informed, by the way, that she wants to go to NYU. Good luck, baby, that's all I have to say about that.

Then, we turn our heads and look down K's road, and that is when I really start to worry. Will she ever be able to live on her own? Will I be her guardian until I no longer have my own faculties? Do I have what it takes to see her through until she can take care of herself? And damn it, will she ever learn to put her dishes in the sink?

I don't know, and that scares the bejeezus out of me. I know, I've got a full ten years left before she's even old enough to go off to college, that should be plenty of time, right? I like to tell myself that she'll be so used to medications and such, that she'll stay on her meds, but that doesn't mean that she will. I like to tell myself that she will have caught up to herself and be developmentally 18, when she's chronologically 18, but that doesn't mean that she will. But to be frank, one of us on this team has to remain optimistic, or that kid simply doesn't have a chance.

Bet that as it may, I am determined that by the end of this week she will be putting her dishes in the sink after each meal, with out being told to do so. And my insistance on such a thing, is going to make it so that when she is on her own, her dishes will never make it to the sink again...

Feeling Bunny-ish

Did you ever get the feeling you should be doing a way better job at your current occupation?

Dictionary.com defines occupation as any activity in which a person is engaged. So anything you are doing when you are doing it is your occupation.

So with that definition in mind, I, from time to time, get a feeling I could be doing way better at said occupation. Confused yet? Yeah me to.

Any-hoo, I shall give you an example. The current occupation I am lacking in at the moment is the teaching of my youngest child to tie her shoes. Not such a big deal you say... How old were you when you could tie your shoes? Five maybe six, possibly seven at the latest. I know I had the task mastered by the time I began kindergarten. I will say that it is mostly my doing that she doesn't know how to tie them. We have after all, avoided tieing shoes for as long as possible, but really unless I want my child wearing zstraps to college, I'm going to have to teach her this life skill.

So we have been working on this over the summer. Going with the bunny ears method for the time being. Earlier today we sat down with a shoe each and began to practice this and K, being K, needed to chatter.

"Did you know that shoe strings have bunny ears because they need to hear other people coming, and when you tie their ears in a knot, they hear so much better. Know why? Because it's like those big ugly hunting dogs you, know like that one in Lady and the Tramp. Yeah like that one, and oh, thanks mom a blood hound. Shoes are like blood hounds, their ears hang low to trap sound better.

Do your ears hang low to the bobble to and fro?
Can you tie the in a knot can you tie them in a bow?
Can you throw them over your shoulder like a compatenal soldier?
Do your ears hand low?

But when you untie your shoes, and take them off it's okay they don't have ears anymore, because since you don't have them on they don't have to protect your feet. Mommy, when I go to school for third grade my feet will need to be protected. Cause third grade kids like to step on your feet. So I'm glad I'm learning this. Hey Mommy, I'm hungry do you think we could have some carrots. I'm feeling a little bunny-ish so I want some carrots."


Yeah, she still doesn't know how to tie her shoes yet...

Jeremiah was a Bullfrog

Well actually he was a toad, and he was in my car.

Recently after it had rained for a couple of days the girls and I were off to do...um something, and I had sent them down to the car while I talked with their dad for a moment. As we're talking, K comes bursting through the garage door.

"Mom! There's a frog in your car!"

I turned and looked at her, "What?"

"There's a frog in your car."

I looked at C and said, "I guess I'll talk to you later, I need to go see about a frog."

He laughed and I went down stairs. But Sarah, why were you not paniced and flying down the stairs to find out what manner of horrific creature was in your lovely car? Well, it's like this. God knew I couldn't raise boys with out turning them into pansies or wrapping them in bubble wrap, but that I could raise a tomboy just fine. So he gave me girls, once more girly than I know what to do with and the other a ninja princess.

I have been waiting for the day when it was my turn to pull something that was once alive out of a pocket as I do the laundry or to rescue a hapless slimey thing from a place it doesn't belong. You see, as a child my poor mother probably pulled innumerable once alive creatures from my pockets and I know I brought home a frog or two. And K is very much an animal lover and also a I-must-touch-this-icky-thing kind of kid, so it was only a matter of time. I was a bit surprised it took us eight years.

"K how did the frog get in the car?"

"I put him there." Ah.

"K you can't pick up frogs or any other animals. It could have been poisonous."

"But poisonous frogs are bright colored, this one is all brown. And he was by the garage door."

"It doesn't matter, and that's only in the rain forest. In Texas they don't always shout their poison status with bright colors."

I shook my head and opened the door to the back seat. And there Mr. Frog sat happy as can be on the seat belt buckle. With a small sigh, I scooped him up and put him in the palm of my hand. He was not a frog. He was a tiny little mud toad. I looked down at K.

"That's not a frog."

"Yes it is Mommy."

"No it's not."

"What is it?"

"A toad."

"What! How do you know, you only just looked at it."

"Well, I've held a few in my day and learned in school about the differences in frogs and toads." Which I then briefly explained.

"Wow Mommy, you sure know a lot of stuff. What kind of toad is it. Do toads hop like frogs? Can we keep it?"

"A tree or mud toad and some do, and no we can't"

She pouted for a moment and then brightened a bit. "So that means it's not poisonous."

"Not necessarily. It could still be, which is why we'll go wash our hands after we put him in the mud."

In all this petting and handling, the little toad, remained very calm and just sat on my hand. "K you may pet him once more and say good bye."

She did and I walked around our building and bent to put him in a nice patch of mud. I must have moved too fast for him then, because he finally peed on me. I said a couple words I won't repeat here.

"What happened Mommy, did he bite you?"

"No! He peed on me."

This was met with peels of laughter from both girls. We trooped up the stairs, washed our hands and headed back to the car. Once there, the inevitable came.

"Why did he pee on you?"

I started to explain, but once I said the word urine followed by another word she didn't know, acrid, she was off in her own little world. She really didn't want to hear about why frogs pee when they're scared.

Conversations on Cupcakes

We stopped at Hey Cupcake, our first time, to give it a try. I'm not saying they were bad, but I'm not sure they were worth 2.75 and I know I could make better icing.

So K gets her red velvet with cream cheese icing, and takes a big lick of the icing. "Mommy this doesn't taste like yours."

Aw... "It's better." Bummer. She makes it about half way through and then promptly deposits it on her dresser. Why I have no idea, but that is where I found it.

"Do you want me to save this for you?"

"Yeah, that would be fine. I liked it." My mother-in-law gave K these great little cupcake savers that are plastic replicas of cupcakes for storing a single cupcake each. I stuck her half eaten cake in one and put it in the fridge.

Rewind to B. "Here's your cupcake B."

"Thanks Mom." She takes a bite and quips. "Oh, wow they're chocolate chips in here. You should put chocolate chips in your chocolate cake."

Ok they say this stuff like I bake often and don't know what I'm doing. Seriously.

The Husband Unit didn't want his, being full from dinner and I put it in the other cupcake holder. A couple hours later he pulled it out and the top half had stuck in the top of the holder. I laughed, he grumped, I laughed some more. He ate his cupcake with a fork.

I eat baked goods in a certain way and this disturbs most of those around me. Cupcakes are eaten from the top down, icing first, then the part above the paper then the part in the paper. In pinched off chunks. This is a very messy way to eat cupcakes, but is my favorite.

I make 007 envious.

I know this because of the sheer number of hidey holes, compartments and storage places in my car. Recently I detailed my car and cleaned up the mess my children had made in the back seat, in the process of this I cleaned out the hidey holes.

I found:

A packet of caramel dipping sauce
6 crayons, melted and paper less
4 pennies
A nickle
7 Pencils
A packet of tissues
A CD jewel case
4 napkins
3 used flossers and
A straw


I wondered what McGyver would be able to make with all of that stuff. But mostly I was glad that the clorox wipes pulled the melted crayons off the plastic of the car door. I also wondered how my kids had been closing the car door with all that crap in the little rectangles they were supposed to be using.

Also, how in the world did that much popcorn get in the car?

The Woosh Woosh Machine

K came to wake me up this morning. Not an unusual occurrence in and of itself, because I happen to like to sleep and since my kids are old enough to handle the first hour or two in the morning alone. I let them. However, the conversation we had upon my waking still has me chuckling.

I have black out curtains in my bedroom, because out windows face east and the sun is really bright in Texas, so it's fairly dark in my bedroom all of the time. So K comes in, and stands at the side of my bed. I have no idea how long she stood there, and usually just a body standing and staring at me will wake me up, but it didn't this morning.

"Mom...mom." This is whispered and I wrinkled my nose and opened sleepy eyes at her.

"What is it honey?"

"Um, do you know how to turn off the thing?"

I turned my head a little and gave her a look. "What thing?"

"The thing in the living room making the noise."

I sit up a little and listen, perplexed. I hear the fan, the tv and someone outside. "Honey, what noise?"

"That woooooosh wooooooosh noise. Can't you hear it?"

"No, baby, I don't hear anything unusual."

"But Mommy, it's really bothering me and I can't figure out how to turn it off."

At this point I'm thinking good grief what has this child turned on that she can't get off and why can't I hear it. I'm torn, I want to just go shut it off for her, but I also want to know what it is she's talking about. And since I'm still half asleep, I really don't want to get out of bed quite yet.

"K describe for me what thing is making the noise."

"I did! It's all wooooooosh woooooosh."

"Yes, yes I know what it sounds like, but what does the noisemaker look like?"

"Oh, um...hang on." She runs out of the room, and then runs back in.

"It's this tall." She holds her hand to about mid chest. "And white and has buttons on top and goes wooooooooosh wooooooosh."

Okay there is only one thing in our living room that fits that description, but it doesn't woosh woosh it just has a soft steady hum. "Baby, are you talking about the air filter?"

"Yes! How do you turn it off?"

"Well, -you- don't, but why is it going woosh woosh."

"Oh! I was putting my ear to it and moving away over and over and I was trying to get it to make a different noise so I pushed a button on top and then it got louder and now it hurts my ear when I push it against it."

I clamped my teeth together and just looked at her. Took a deep breath and said. "Little girl, don't put your ear to the air filter. I'll come turn it down when I get out there."

She left and I lost it. Man I love that kid.

Tummy Troubles

Disclaimer: The stuff that follows deals with my digestive system and might be a bit TMI for some.

So around about the 8th I got a chest cold, which I still have the cough from, and shortly after that, I started burping, like all day long, it even woke me up at night a couple times. After three days of the constant burping, I called to get an appointment, which they didn't have anything available until today.

Between then and now, I developed a stomach ache that was constant, just a 2 or 3 on the pain scale, but enough that it was bothersome since it was non-stop, and along with the ache, came nausea, fatigue and bloating.

So the tummy doc did the usual ask ninety billion questions, then mashed on my tummy, listened to my heart and breathing, and then prescribed an increase in the medication I already take, a anti-nausea medication, and the removal of soda, tea and dairy from my diet for the next month.

I can only hope it works. I'm tired.

She also ordered blood work, to check liver and endocrine function, hemoglobin, and they're going to do some kind of smear test thing where they put a bit of my plasma in several different trays and a bit of the red blood cells in other trays and then let them hang out in different environments to see if anything grows. I'm kind of worried about those particular tests. They also made me pee in a cup...so not my favorite.

For those interested, a year ago I had a endoscopy in which they repaired an esphogial hernia, and inflated a little balloon thing in the upper portion of my esophogaus in order to make it easier to swallow, and did something with a tiny little ulcer just above the top of where my stomach acid stops, that I've had for like ever. They also did a colonoscopy and removed a polyp. So I'm no stranger to tummy troubles, but I've been free of them for almost a year now and it's annoying for them to be back.

She Said What?

For those of you that have spent any time with my husband and I then you know that our relationship revolves around good natured teasing, pestering and the occasional insult. For my part of this, I spend a lot of time fending off the tickle monster, screaming, and smacking him upside the head.

From time to time, this disturbs K. We've talked about it and it seems she thinks Daddy is hurting me and I need rescuing. I've assured her that he in fact not hurting me and I don't need rescuing. to which she promptly replies.

"I could hurt him, if you let me."

Then a bit of pouting and "No really I could. I'm strong, and it would hurt. I know you can't hurt him cause you hit like a girl, but Mommy, I could cause I don't hit like a girl."

"You don't? What do you hit like."

Her brow crinkled a bit. "Well, not a boy, cause I'm not a boy, but defintitely not like a girl. But I am a girl. Hmm, I know! I hit like an awesome girl. Yeah, and awesome girl."

"So, I'm not awesome?"

"Not really, but Mommy that's because you hit like a regular girl, all weak."

"I do?"

"Yeah, but only cause you've never been a Vampire Spider Queen, a Pirate Princess, and a Ninja Warrior Girl."

"Yeah you're right."

She pat me on the shoulder. "But you know I could hurt him if you let me."

I nodded and then held my chuckle until she walked away. Honestly, what do you say to that?

A Most Elegant Tea Party

K and I had a wonderful Tea Party last week. This was our table after K set it. We had chocolate chip cookies, rice crispy treats, white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, croissant rolls with butter and jam, oranges and bananas.

We dressed in fun dresses and wore boas, it was so much fun pretending to be so sophisticated!

K had the best table manners! Please pass the cream, dear.

Yummy tea! K had orange spice, and I stuck with chamomile.

After our tea we had a dance party with stuffed animals, much silliness ensued.

This was a lot of fun, we spent over an hour drinking tea and asking each other questions we could give outrageous answers to. My favorite question of the day:

K: What are you most afraid of?

Me: Oh, triangles. I don't like triangles.

K, with a truly puzzled look on her face: How can you be afraid of triangles, they're just triangles.

Me: Yes, but they only have three sides...that's just not right.

K: Mommy, I think you went a little overboard there.

The Worry Monster

I find it interesting that I spend so much of my time worrying. A devotion that I read recently talked about worry, and how it comes between us and God's plans for us. I was worrying again this morning about a financial situation that in the grand scheme of things won't hurt us. As I stopped, took a deep breath and *gasp* prayed. A particular bit of scripture came to mind.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." It is a verse I've clung to from time to time when things are dark, and it doesn't look like the light is ever going to switch on again. I know that those are usually the times I'm not trusting in God enough and so I turn to him in prayer and he has a way of nudging me with truths.

I calmed down, took the verse to heart, and went on. As I walked into the jumping place (our name for the indoor inflatables playground) today, there sitting on their counter is a lovely little plaque with that verse. I looked up and went "Okay, Okay, don't hit me over the head with it!"

So as I'm sitting here in the jumping place, slightly bored out of my mind I decided to look up the verse. Oh, how much I have missed not reading this entire thing! It goes onto read:

"Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile." Jeremiah 29:11-14

Aren't those some of the most encouraging words you could read? I know He's talking to the elders, priests and prophets in exhile in Babylon with Nebuchadnezzar, but I think that God in His infinite wisdom directed men to write the words and stories so that we can read them today and know that God loves his people, watches out for them, and keeps his promises.

I know that I'm going to be okay, and when I close my eyes and say, "Take this from me, it's just bigger than me." He'll take it and help me find my way through the mire.

What I learned today: I have -got- to stop worrying.

Tea Party Shopping

K and I had so much fun shopping for tea party things yesterday! We started on Saturday at Target, and found absolutely nothing that we liked, so we tried Kohl's and once more there was a big fat zero. So we had dinner and went home.

Yesterday I drove all the way out to Bed Bath and Beyond at 360 and 183 and we found a white porcelin tea pot for a whopping $16.23 with tax. As we're leaving I remembered one of my friends talking about the tea party she was throwing for her little girl's fourth birthday and how she'd gone to thrift stores to get every child their own fancy tea cup. So I thought, well there is a Goodwill on the way back home, let's stop there.

Oh my goodness, there is absolutely no rhyme or reason to the stacks of stuff on those shelves other than, "dishes," "glasses," "kitchen ware." etc... So K and I spent the better part of half and hour scouring the shelves in that section. We laughed, and joked and found three fancy tea cup and saucer sets, three little plates, three little bowls, a serving plate, a cream and sugar set, a butter dish, a fancy little decorative tea pot and joy of all joys a white porcelin tea pot. We made it to the register and paid $17.36 including tax for all of it.

As we drove back to Bed Bath and Beyond to return the first tea pot, K and I had a great conversation about recycling, buying things used, and finding ways to save money and still get exactly what you want.

I can't wait for Thursday when I get to wear my blue feather boa, and drink tea out of my floweredy tea cup.


What I learned: I often forget to go look at places like Goodwill, the Salvation Army and the church based thrift stores in our area. We have a lot of those kinds of stores, and I hope I can remember that for the next time I need something and buying it used makes so much more sense.

The Newest Food Issue.

K, my 8 year old, is currently medicated to help her control the symptoms of bi-polar disorder. One of these medications is a stimulant for the ADHD component of this. One of the sad side effects is that it suppresses her appetite. As a result of this, is she has lost sixteen and a half pounds over the last ten months. If you've done the math that's 1.65 pounds a month, and when you're barely 50 inches tall that's a whole lot of weight to lose.

She's just a few pounds away from being considered underweight and thus being taken off her medication. So now we have to increase her caloric intake in a way that is healthy and does not make an issue out of food. She already has a strained relationship with the stuff, and this is sadly only making things worse.

With the Sensory Processing Disorder she was diagnosed with at a four, she has a difficult time with food smells and textures, that limits her dietary options, and on top of all that we have her on a mostly GFCF diet. It seems to me the odds are stacked against the poor kid.

So then we have to figure out how to increase the calories in the small amounts of food we can get her to eat. I am open to any suggestions any of you might have. We did change her yogurt from regular to greek style, and we have relented on the rice milk and give her whole cow's milk. She drinks a protein shake every day, and I try to give her calorie dense foods at each meal.

But she is still losing weight. Any help any of you might have would be awesome.

~S

School's Out for the Summer! *sings badly*

Ah, the summer. I love the summer. Most people think I'm an odd duck when I say that. I do not like winter; I do not like to be cold, shivery, and achy. I also don't like to sweat, but I'd much rather sweat than shiver.

But the start of the summer is a bit bitter sweet for me. It is the start of time with my kids and hubby and a few good books, but also the end to another school year. The latest set of graduating fours leaves us for Kindergarten, and all the walls in the school are bare.

But, I have the next eight glorious weeks off, and I plan to use them fully!


What I learned today: Do not move furniture around in the school and then go do push-backs in the pool...it makes your arms, back and abs hurt way more than they should.

Special Days

I was talking with some friends at church and as usual conversation lead to why our children were dictating our plans. It is the joy of a parent to work their lives around their children's needs and I don't begrudge them that time. I mentioned that I was leaving just after church because K was having a special morning and I needed to go rescue Daddy.

Another mom said, she liked that term as it was a much more positive way to look at those rough mornings. I have to give credit where it is due. One of the teachers at my preschool uses that term for one of her more challenging students, when he is having a particularly difficult day.

I adopted it. :D K, is an internalizer and you never know when what you say to her is going to come out slightly skewed and self-deprecating. I do not use the words stupid, bad, or dumb, as K will take those words and turn them against herself. I will tell her she's done something wrong, made a choice I don't like or the like.

I try really hard to make sure that if I am talking to or about her, she doesn't hear something that will make her feel bad about herself. Self esteem even in little ones, is fragile and easily broken, and like Humpty Dumpty difficult to put back together.

So, I say, enjoy your special days, and remember that tomorrow will be better.

The Snake

Ok so, I was walking home with the girls today, and we saw a snake. It was a cool little garter snake guy and K about peed herself waiting for Daddy to get home from jury duty so she could tell him all about the snake she saw first and how cool he was and how he had a black stripe down his back and he followed along beside us on the other side of the fence, for like about a hundred feet, well when the cement wall came and we couldn't see him no more, but I bet he followed us still. He was so neat, and then I saw a lizard in the thingy that holds the thingy for the gate to open. It was gray and had stripes and spots and he turned his head and looked at me. Oh and Daddy I saw the dead bird, did you know he had brown feathers and I think something tried to eat it, but it must have tasted bad because it was still mostly there. And did you know tomorrow is field day and I'm going to wear a skort so I can run and jump and play, but teacher says I have to wear my tennis shoes. I think that's a good idea because I don't want to kick a ball with bare toes in sandals. Mommy gave us frozen meals for dinner, and I wanted the bug sprinkles but not the meal they were in so B traded me the bug sprinkles for my popping sprinkles, bug sprinkles are really good. Ok, bye Daddy.


Poor Daddy, just stood there trying really hard to follow everything she was saying, and by the end he'd given up on holding in the laughter and was openly chuckling. He patted her on the head and said "Nice to see you too K."

I think Daddy should get called to jury duty more often, or maybe I should walk to pick up the kids more often so that K can see more snakes and tell Daddy all about them.