tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2685089371397113462024-03-13T01:27:42.488-07:00God is Good. All the Time.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.comBlogger244125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-79196368789114272182013-05-10T12:02:00.001-07:002013-05-10T12:38:15.709-07:00Dear New Grad...Happy Nurse's Week!<br />
<br />
Yes, the e-cards circulating on Facebook appropriately laud and encourage all of us nurses. Like anyone who does or does not like their job, we work hard, see the best of the best and the worst of the worst, have stinky hours sometimes, and bear an enormous burden of responsibility. The expertise of an experienced nurse is quite literally what can save your life. But today I want to address a group of nurses who are quite possibly the hardest workers and who will face the toughest challenge this year:<br />
<br />
<i>New grads.</i><br />
<br />
Over the past few years, as I've significantly scaled back my hours and sort of tabled a profession that I fiercely love and would love to grow in again at some point, the Lord has dropped in my lap some unexpected opportunities to mentor and encourage nursing students or new grads. Whether it's a mock interview, meeting for coffee, or even being connected for a quick email to answer some questions but never meeting in person, these opportunities are a treasure. Being a new grad is no joke. Especially in the current economy. When I was a new grad, hospitals snatched us up by the dozen, often before we even graduated; you slid straight from finals to orientation within a week. It's not that way today, when hundreds or thousands of applicants may vie for one nursing position. Being a new grad is an overwhelming, exhilarating, exasperating, amazing experience.<br />
<br />
So, I would like to post some encouragement for you, new grad. A lot of this could probably apply to anyone in a new position; but I do think that the experience of being a brand new nurse is its own animal. I'm not trying to come off like I'm some spectacular know-it-all nurse; but there ARE some things that I wish someone would have told me before I stepped into that first job. So, here's the summary of the past few years of mentoring some of the most hopeful, bright, and talented people I've encountered...who, by the way, did end up getting amazing jobs and are thriving. So, nervous or discouraged new grad, it can be done. ;)<br />
<br />
<i><b>Dear. New. Grad....</b></i><br />
<br />
Welcome to nursing, congrats, etc etc. Let me dive right in.<br />
<br />
If there's one thing I wish someone would have gently reminded me, it's that your work isn't be graded anymore, so-to-speak. The research you seek out, the interventions you come up with, the care plans you write - yes, the whole of your work will likely be evaluated on an annual basis, but as a rule, your consistent source of feedback isn't there anymore. I was used to professors applauding my words, my papers, my exams, and my efforts - and that's what pushes you through school. The <i>A</i> or the <i>C-</i> lets you know where you stand. You won't really get that in your job. Admittedly, many hospitals have excellent orientation programs that offer excellent mentorship, but once you're off orientation, <b>you might not hear much about the great job you're doing.</b> Sometimes all you'll get is negative feedback - and if you don't get ANY feedback, it may mean that you're doing great. I know this probably comes off as pretentious or fluffy, but when I look back at the number of days I came home from work and flung myself on the bed in tears, I realize now that it was because no one was patting me on the back and telling me that I was at least on track....and I desperately, desperately wanted to know that I was at least on track. So you might not get that feedback. And that's okay. Keep putting one foot in front of the other.<br />
<br />
<b>You will pass boards.</b> I know some *incredible* nurses who had to take them two or three times. Yes, a horrifying thought. -But- one, two, twelve years later...it's really not much more than a blip on the radar.<br />
<br />
When you interview, <b>be prepared to answer the simple question, "So tell me about yourself." </b>I've had a lot of interviews between being a traveler and simply moving around quite a bit in a few-year span, and this was almost always the first 'question.' It sounds simple enough, but when you're nervous and dressed in your best and trying to put on your best face, just being asked to tell someone about yourself suddenly feels like a very loaded question. And when I've done mock interviews, it's where most people flub, blush, look at the ground, "er" and "um" a lot, and finally choke out a not-terribly-confident response about how they have a few siblings and like to knit or run. So think about how you'd respond! Then practice sitting up straight, looking that manager in the eye and saying, "I'd love to!" and tell them where you're from, a thing or two that you like to do, why you became a nurse, and perhaps what brought you to this current interview. Or something like that.<br />
<br />
<b>You will make mistakes.</b> One night when I was a new grad, I received an order to give a patient 1 to 4 mg of dilaudid IV push as needed for pain. She rated her pain as a "10." SO, I gave her 4mg, the maximum dose. She was the size of Thumbelina. Four milligrams was WAY too much. PRAISE THE LORD she needed oral potassium, and when the LPN went in to wake her up to give it to her, that's when we found that she had a respiratory rate of <i>4.</i> You know that sternal rub they teach you in school? It works really well when you do it REALLY HARD. A quick dose of narcan and she was (painfully) wide awake and breathing just fine. The outcome could have been terrible and I wouldn't be writing this today. The doctor was like, "Um, I meant for that to be titrated." Yup. Now when my patient rates their pain as a "10" I start out lower than the lowest dose. The point is, you learn from your mistakes and you never make them again, guaranteed. No one flunked me, yelled at me, or fired me. The rest of my shift went fine. It's okay. Expect it and don't beat yourself up over it.<br />
<br />
<b>You will never be your own island.</b> Yes, when you study for your boards, you really do feel like if you don't know every. little. thing. about every disease, every organ, every medication, every single one of Erickson's stages and Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, you will most certainly kill everyone in your reach. But that's simply not true. You will always, always be surrounded - or at least accompanied somewhat - by other people. When things go down, other nurses are there. When you have a question, there's someone to ask. You will never find yourself alone without another soul for miles and miles with a patient who is dying on the spot. There WAS the one time when I worked in a very large NICU that someone handed me the admission pager so they could run down to grab something to eat. They swore that the 26-week triplets who were on the board weren't doing anything anytime soon. Well blast it, labor and delivery hit that pager about ten minutes later, and those 26-week triplets were about to come out. Problem was, they paged it incorrectly, so all of the other people with pagers (like the nurse practitioners who were also on their break) would likely look at the page and ignore it. I showed up alone, at a c-section for<i> 26-week triplets!</i> when I should have had nine other people with me, and about soiled my drawers on the spot. BUT! at what felt like the last possible second, the rest of the team showed up and I nearly collapsed with relief. And now in retrospect, no way would they have just started the surgery and handed three extreme preemies to one nurse. But at the time, it sure felt like that's what was about to happen.<br />
<br />
<b>You may not land your dream job right away.</b> You've always dreamed of being a pediatric or labor and delivery nurse. What's available is dialysis, renal, or the neuro step-down unit. Take those jobs. Attack them with gusto. The pediatric and L&D job will open up at some point, but if you turn down the other opportunities along the way, you may be looking and unemployed for a loooooong time. And, you may find that you actually enjoy setting up peritoneal dialysis. Who knows. I did the traditional 1-2 years of med/surg - and I know that that is met with groans of great reluctance. But dang, those med/surg nurses have to know their stuff...about a LOT of meds, a LOT of diagnoses, a LOT of age groups. I learned that I loved working with the elderly. You're doing everything from changing bed pans to giving blood transfusions to taking care of all manner of post-surgicals. You learn to hustle your bustle. In a good way. If you have an opportunity to do med-surg or any form of ICU, take it. Right now doing anything for one or two or three years sounds like a lifetime, but it's literally the tiniest fraction of your career, but will pay dividends in the long run as far as experience is concerned. You will get your dream job at some point, I can nearly guarantee it.<br />
<br />
<b>Be open to going someplace else.</b> I heard a few years back that Missoula, Montana was the place to go to find great nursing positions. A big university town with a decent-sized hospital. But yeah, it's in the mountains pretty far out there. Take those jobs. Make them the springboard for where you want to go next. You want to be a travel nurse? You need at least a few years of experience...BUT - pick a great place to start out, and begin your adventure that way.<br />
<br />
Now, when you do land that job....<br />
<br />
<b>Have big ears, and ask a lot of questions.</b> Listen to other nurses and how they answer patients' questions. You'll learn a ton.<br />
<br />
<b>No task is beneath you. </b>Sadly, I'm surprised by the number of BSN students who are less than enthused about filling a patient's water, changing linens, walking a patient, or (gasp) changing a bedpan or taking the to the bathroom. I've even heard one or two of them say, "Oh, we don't need to do that...when we start working, that's what the unit assistants do."<br />
<br />
*scoreboard buzzer.* <br />
<br />
No task, no matter how small, is beneath you. Filling water umpteen times for your patients during your shift is a nursing intervention and an opportunity to teach about hydration, edema, keeping secretions thin, preventing a bladder infection, healing from surgery, you name it. The contents of a bedpan will tell you much about your patient's current status. Rubbing lotion on a bed-weary back will clue you into a whole lot about your patient's skin integrity. You won't have time to do many of these tasks and they will need to be delegated...but they certainly come with the territory AND your degree.<br />
<br />
<b>Keep your patho book. And your diagnostic lab manual.</b> That just goes without saying.<br />
<br />
<b>Yes, you will write care plans for the rest of your career.</b> Sorry!<br />
<br />
<b>Learn how to be a great teacher.</b> One of the biggest roles you will have as a nurse is to educate, educate, educate your patients. I worked nights for a few years as a newbie. I always felt out of the loop on the night shift, because you don't see the docs and social workers and everyone making their rounds during the day, so you don't hear firsthand what's going on, and the report you received from the off-going nurse may have had some holes (it's hard to remember every detail at the end of 12hrs). So I started off going straight to the progress notes and the most recent orders, and used those as part of my teaching. A) It helps you know what the doc said or has in mind about this patient, and B) you start to become familiar with the dubious scribbling handwriting of each doc, another bonus. Then I could go in a patient's room and confidently say, "Here's what the plan is" (within reason...obviously you're not going to march in and say, "Did you know that your doctor wrote that your prognosis is very poor?"), go over their latest orders, use that as an opportunity to reinforce new med education, etc. Then, as you do your assessment, use that as a teaching tool - as you're auscultating lungs, review the importance of C&DB. When you listen to bowel sounds, reinforce the importance of ambulation and hydration. And on and on through your whole assessment. Boom. You've now looked at the chart, checked the orders, done your assessment, AND can fill out your education record, all in one fell swoop. :)<br />
<br />
<b>All of that stuff your profs hammered into you about evidence-based practice.</b>..be glad. You will never get away from needing to know the most recent research.<br />
<br />
<b>All that stuff you learned about culture</b>...yep, you'll be glad you know about that too. And while I'm at it, if you have the opportunity to learn Spanish....yeah. My Spanish looks like a vaudeville comedy act. So much for minoring in French.<br />
<br />
And finally...<br />
<br />
<b>Plug into a good church or community.</b> It's easy to let your new career consume you. But you need to keep your faith afloat, you need accountability when you start getting crass and judgmental, and you need a life outside of work. Because work will get your number and will take as much from you as you are willing to give...and then some. I let church fall to the wayside for a season (it was really hard on an inconsistent night schedule), and I wasn't a pretty sight emotionally. Make it a huge priority.<br />
<br />
And so, dear new grad, you are welcomed into a new world of odd schedules, working weekends and holidays, and amassing some great stories. It's also a world full of some of the most incredible, sharp, intelligent, motivated and talented people you'll ever meet. Congratulations - your education hasn't been completed, it's only just begun. ;)Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-66920287440285645792013-02-24T19:39:00.001-08:002013-02-24T19:39:52.150-08:00Choking on Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFR0ZgqIp6HEmEF7oHPhf9XBgpifbs6eIR0GlkE7dWUXXvJVux6OH-V7_e5vlfFlGPGpQUB0Rr3VfxHKJ6IRKNT5usoz0kVe3ZPKjszNgDcQQLCzRR2RCQ3Rb8JGmiNww42HljUO84w1E/s1600/028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFR0ZgqIp6HEmEF7oHPhf9XBgpifbs6eIR0GlkE7dWUXXvJVux6OH-V7_e5vlfFlGPGpQUB0Rr3VfxHKJ6IRKNT5usoz0kVe3ZPKjszNgDcQQLCzRR2RCQ3Rb8JGmiNww42HljUO84w1E/s320/028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGq9HYtNsziwbQ2Wo3oYzG-3Cq-2-CjtQjfkvCxieboAokEhqTI8Nk8pcMp6SQ53bPRTdiU2XMv9EkdWpZaKiLSVZ2gZx9kILX0s45gZ_Al-dN9HYmk5O-ujqoSMoBwb4Hfvuu1OyHXO0/s1600/030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGq9HYtNsziwbQ2Wo3oYzG-3Cq-2-CjtQjfkvCxieboAokEhqTI8Nk8pcMp6SQ53bPRTdiU2XMv9EkdWpZaKiLSVZ2gZx9kILX0s45gZ_Al-dN9HYmk5O-ujqoSMoBwb4Hfvuu1OyHXO0/s320/030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7X4NqZGr-5IueM_WVSDdh335JNyFjhjXSM9tm-DPlyvPrcKAwMbhLNFM3iJlttmz6lbHw-naxMi_0n_bAtgEeWkULnPNWY_jciCVwuvTr9wZzZ50Qww8niiBL82hO00cKpsm-s5n11mU/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7X4NqZGr-5IueM_WVSDdh335JNyFjhjXSM9tm-DPlyvPrcKAwMbhLNFM3iJlttmz6lbHw-naxMi_0n_bAtgEeWkULnPNWY_jciCVwuvTr9wZzZ50Qww8niiBL82hO00cKpsm-s5n11mU/s320/031.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
These are the most ordinary pictures in the world, but they were taken on a terribly extraordinary day: December 14th, 2012. The day the Sandy Hook shooting occurred. I'm not normally given to emotional reactions to the news, but I think it was a day that every person - and certainly every parent - suffocated in horrified possibility. I took these pictures just a couple hours after hearing of the events, just to feel the weight of this thing called <i>normal</i> that those parents haven't grasped since their babies were silenced.<br />
<br />
I've been writing blog posts in my mind every day since, and time and toddler and baby steal my opportunities. Or it's just too big and too much to speak to. But I'm choking on words that beg to be written - so tonight I choose words over sleep.<br />
<br />
My heart is beyond heavy tonight. The weight of heavy discussions and questions this week press on me. The cracking of a precious mother's heart in grief over a fractured relationship with her child presses on me. The bitter rage of a mother who unexpectedly lost her toddler - a mother I don't even know, but social media is weird like that - presses on me. Seeing how tender my own son's heart is. All of it. It is so easy to ask....<br />
<br />
.<i>.....how long, O Lord? How long?</i><br />
<br />
Our days, they are so fleeting. <i>Oh Lord, teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.</i><br />
<br />
Several weeks ago a dear woman at church testified to the anxiety that has crippled her for years, confined her to her bed some days. She was loathe to speak of the time it took from her children, and for her children to have to see her walk that road. The fear that something - that huge unknown - would happen, and she wouldn't be there for her children, was unbearable. And it locked her in and owned her.<br />
<br />
Today this tiny minute of a woman stood before us, testifying again - this time of her release from her self-inflicted captivity. The joy, the freedom that has finally settled upon her.<br />
<br />
<i>But her freedom did not come in a way that you may expect.... </i><br />
<br />
She is staring her worst fear in the eye, confirmed without expectation only a few weeks ago. In just as many weeks, she may very well be standing in front of her Lord and Savior, and her good work here will be finished.<br />
<br />
<i>But we do not grieve as though we have no hope.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Like Paul, she rejoices BECAUSE of her chains, not in spite of them. The worst has happened. She no longer has to worry. It came to close her in, but thanks be to a perfect Savior who already conquered death, who is her final hope and plea. Cancer may take her brain and her body, but her joy and hope rest in the One who created her brain and body, who never topples off his throne wondering what will happen next.<br />
<br />
Friends, I don't know what I would do if I didn't have the promises of our God. I can't bear up the burdens of the people around me without knowing that they ultimately aren't mine to bear. If I didn't have Christ to fall upon I would be *nothing.* NOTHING. A crushed, wrecked pile of ash. I would not be able to handle the news on days like December 14th. I could not bear the heartache of a devastated mother. I just could....not. My marriage would be a disaster and my parenting a joke.<br />
<br />
Oh, I long for the freedom that this dear woman is experiencing right now. The Proverbs 31 woman laughs at the days to come because no fear stands by her shoulder. Do you laugh at the days to come? No matter what they may bring?<br />
<br />
I guess I really have no point in this post except to say...all of our days are few. We have no guarantee that our families will be safe, our health will be secured, our children will make wise choices, our worst fears won't happen. But thanks be to God who is on the same throne He was on the day His Son died. We do not have to live as though we have no hope. There is still freedom and life to be found in our worst fear coming true, even.<br />
<br />
I need to go to bed. I still feel burdened. And like I wrote a blog post that has no real point to it...but I will wake up tomorrow morning reminded that this IS the day the Lord has made and I WILL rejoice and be glad in it. I will clean my house and feed my babies and be grateful - so grateful - that it is another normal day.<br />
<br />
<i>Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time....</i>Ephesians 5:15-16)<br />
<br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-84107582211971960702012-12-05T11:44:00.004-08:002012-12-05T11:46:02.274-08:00Not the most wonderful time of the yearI really don't have time to write this but I need to.<br />
<br />
I don't remember the date off the top of my head anymore, but I'll find myself edgy and on the verge of tears for part of a day and not entirely certain why. And I find myself at the kitchen table - usually the same spot each time - glancing at the calender and....<i>oh yes.</i> <i>That's why.</i><br />
<br />
The <a href="http://mattandjennygo.blogspot.com/2009/12/glory-baby.html">day </a>the Lord said, <i>"Not yet, dear daughter...this one needs to come back to Me."</i><br />
<br />
I cried plenty but I don't really remember asking why. It was a long month. I let it take its course naturally. I was glad it was Christmas because sometimes the glitter took away the weighty feelings. But it was not the most wonderful time of the year.<br />
<br />
<i>Was it the most wonderful time when Jesus came?</i><br />
<br />
Mary and Joseph weren't exactly traveling under grand circumstances, in posh accommodations. An impromptu trip to his hometown under the edict of a ruler who simply wanted to count heads, probably leaving a scoffing pack of busybodies who cackled about Mary's<i> "story," </i>on the heels of what was undoubtedly an awkward Jewish wedding.<br />
<br />
Who knows how Mary's contractions began, if her water broke while she was yet being hauled on a donkey, or what. But I'm sure the scene wasn't nearly as pretty or clean as the nativity on my entertainment stand.<br />
<br />
The coming of our Lord was humble and unassuming. The circumstances alternately wonderful on the eternal side of things and not so much on this side of heaven.<br />
<br />
This is not the most wonderful time of the year for many people. Three of my most memorable NICU losses happened at Christmas...sad memories for me but a black mark on the holidays for those families.<br />
<br />
Yet - YET! - the very One whose birth we celebrate is the One who more than understands our rejection, disappointment, grief, anxiety...you name it. He experienced it in spades and bore it and took it to the cross. Willingly. It is the most wonderful NEWS but it's not the most wonderful time of the year...<br />
<br />
...unless you look at it from an eternal perspective.<br />
<br />
...and turn off the radio station that's playing all the Falalalalala and turn on the one that's playing Joy to the World. <br />
<br />
Dear, grieving or hurting or anxious friend, don't buy it. Christmas isn't snow and cookies and presents and trees and lights. It's a God who exchanged eternity for space and time and filled His lungs with the murky air we breathe. The God who stood right by you when you lost your baby, watched your husband walk out, when you tossed aside your willpower and fed your addiction, when your finances collapsed. Celebrate HIM.<br />
<br />
<i>...though he was in the form of God...made himself nothing...being born in the likeness of men...</i><br />
<br />
<b><i>Let every heart prepare him room</i></b>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-39777154021444345972012-11-27T11:55:00.000-08:002012-11-27T11:55:30.687-08:00Falalalalala<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkI8kPcVxh6JgGztnurmeDy1zO9xIMuH4E_KtSmPgYHF0N_0ako-NdqG3KYgQMGEUDszKr2_jqObsqwGGcgNbC-6eS2IcQ9DJ0YJFFCL7l1Nn0RcH_TCe-7UVXFd_jO_PmYK4_hSVjpw/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
I don't mean to brag, buuuuuttttttt.....<br />
<br />
.........here's our Christmas tree. <i>Go ahead</i>. <i>Pin it.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkI8kPcVxh6JgGztnurmeDy1zO9xIMuH4E_KtSmPgYHF0N_0ako-NdqG3KYgQMGEUDszKr2_jqObsqwGGcgNbC-6eS2IcQ9DJ0YJFFCL7l1Nn0RcH_TCe-7UVXFd_jO_PmYK4_hSVjpw/s1600/002.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkI8kPcVxh6JgGztnurmeDy1zO9xIMuH4E_KtSmPgYHF0N_0ako-NdqG3KYgQMGEUDszKr2_jqObsqwGGcgNbC-6eS2IcQ9DJ0YJFFCL7l1Nn0RcH_TCe-7UVXFd_jO_PmYK4_hSVjpw/s320/002.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
<br />
You see, our house is just a hair small right now for a tree. A diaper changing table resides where the tree would normally go, and there really is no other place for it. At all. So a 2D Christmas tree it is until Luke's outta dipes. This two-dimensional fit of genius sports one roll of wrapping paper, a handful of to-and-from tags, a cheap garland, and a shiny bow on top. If you haven't pinned it already, ya better do it.<br />
<br />
Here's my other little piece of inspiration: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsbBnXq4L497aAPm2pQMIBSQiZClZggk-BKMbee5UgCDzWCR8YDY4vOaJU4QJPU-fNVqGK6FcAcopwo0VwRLSL14sSp9nUJcddBPlig0K4-i4KQbwcdmI-NvH9d21ue2AEJHe1g9T6do/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsbBnXq4L497aAPm2pQMIBSQiZClZggk-BKMbee5UgCDzWCR8YDY4vOaJU4QJPU-fNVqGK6FcAcopwo0VwRLSL14sSp9nUJcddBPlig0K4-i4KQbwcdmI-NvH9d21ue2AEJHe1g9T6do/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Actually, I think this turned out very cute. <br />
<br />
And finally, even better than any Christmas tree:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN52KmivtjOz9lYhjYp0HAqLJZVPzVjFJ7Afhh27QnGTmU-eyEn5_7XWcKSwbxE3rul65posQIEUnfwQuZ2SwXUVQef0ZuEy1rkNd47tDQ8hKUSyp-7nBWAUyCEaUz3C1XgDpO3kNaFA8/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN52KmivtjOz9lYhjYp0HAqLJZVPzVjFJ7Afhh27QnGTmU-eyEn5_7XWcKSwbxE3rul65posQIEUnfwQuZ2SwXUVQef0ZuEy1rkNd47tDQ8hKUSyp-7nBWAUyCEaUz3C1XgDpO3kNaFA8/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
(Stop envying my mad photography skills, just stop!)<br />
<br />
But seriously, Matt's mom gave us the nativity when we were first married. It showed up at our condo when we lived in Denver and it came from a Catholic supply store in Missouri (??). We didn't open it until after Thanksgiving, but we were so perplexed as to WHAT could come from a Catholic supply store?! Matt surmised that it must be a blow-up St. Christopher doll. Because clearly THAT is what you would buy at such a store. So we kept referring to "the box" as "the blow-up St. Christopher doll" - and when it (obviously) WASN'T, Matt was actually a little bit disappointed. I, on the other hand, was teary at the sentimental thought of having the tradition of setting up the nativity with our children one day, teaching them the story of Jesus' birth. They would listen with eyes wide and filled with rapt, sparkling wonder as I quoted directly from the book of Luke and arranged all of the figurines.<br />
<br />
Well, the box is actually still labeled "Blow Up St. Christopher Doll" with Sharpie marker, and I, shall we say, blew it up yesterday. I quoted as much as I could remember from Linus' speech on the Charlie Brown Christmas special (because he does quote directly from the book of Luke). Levi whined because he couldn't stand up on the chair with me while I strung the lights behind the entertainment center, whined because I wouldn't let him watch a truck video, cried because I wouldn't let him swan-dive on Luke AGAIN, I kept yelling at the dog to GIT. OUT. OF. THE. WAY, my text alert from Matt (that he was on his way home) reminded me that dinner was far from being done, glitter was spread everywhere from Levi pulling out all of the decorations, and Levi was far more interested in the Santa Claus piggy bank that still had a few pennies in it.<br />
<br />
BUUUT - the 2D Christmas Tree is up and so is the Blow Up St. Christopher Doll. We'll keep working on making it meaningful, right?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkI8kPcVxh6JgGztnurmeDy1zO9xIMuH4E_KtSmPgYHF0N_0ako-NdqG3KYgQMGEUDszKr2_jqObsqwGGcgNbC-6eS2IcQ9DJ0YJFFCL7l1Nn0RcH_TCe-7UVXFd_jO_PmYK4_hSVjpw/s1600/002.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-90447464511877687042012-11-18T19:18:00.002-08:002012-11-18T19:19:50.552-08:00ResurrectionThere's a reason it's been so long.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Well, there are at least two reasons, one of them being smaller, chubbier, and bossier than the other one.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">You see, I suffer from a very fatal flaw as a "writer"<span style="font-size: small;"> (if that's what you can call what I do, <span style="font-size: small;">on this wi<span style="font-size: small;">ldly uncreative blog). I can only - ONLY <span style="font-size: small;">- write spontaneou<span style="font-size: small;">sly. <span style="font-size: small;">I cannot start a po<span style="font-size: small;">st<span style="font-size: small;"> and table it for <span style="font-size: small;">later; I cannot schedule ti<span style="font-size: small;">me to writ<span style="font-size: small;">e a post. Nope. <span style="font-size: small;">An idea will hit me, I can marinate i<span style="font-size: small;">n it fo<span style="font-size: small;">r <span style="font-size: small;">a day or two, play around with t<span style="font-size: small;">he words <span style="font-size: small;">in my mind, but once I sit down to write it, I have to write it from start to finish or it will never be completed.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not exactly a writing style that is compatible <span style="font-size: small;">with the life I have right now.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPh7gH_eCJV69nboVZKtg139WtFgUXZD9KvKIYGtZeNIAOzx5vtHjyjW8ayQ1Z-FbdbhcLwJCYeyvateMOvSxZ7OC1wbugDeEAkRS3AvysdQQD81YRsHK7V9xN1FK8Pff3d_pEv0V8XBM/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPh7gH_eCJV69nboVZKtg139WtFgUXZD9KvKIYGtZeNIAOzx5vtHjyjW8ayQ1Z-FbdbhcLwJCYeyvateMOvSxZ7OC1wbugDeEAkRS3AvysdQQD81YRsHK7V9xN1FK8Pff3d_pEv0V8XBM/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is how I feel most of the time, most days.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
If I thought my time was not my own with one little boy, it is abjectly not my own with two. <i>(Is abjectly a word?)</i> People told us that adding a second child would be the most difficult transition yet...thereafter it gets easier. Well, we can testify to the first part with a hearty "amen" - and will just have to take their word for it on the latter because there will not be a "thereafter" in this household, of that we are assuredly decided.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In the spirit of resurrecting my poor blog, I wish I had a stirring post to write, but I don't at the moment. I will...soon enough. But right now, the sound of one child's eyelids closing awakens the other - even though moments before, that child could have slept thru a marching band riding on a garbage truck. So posts will have to remain steadfast in the steel trap of my mind while we ride through these upside-down weeks and months of having a bossy baby in the house.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now that I have it started though, the posts will probably start to roll out as I seek a little solitude when everyone has gone to bed, forsaking sleep in exchange for a little bit of brain activity. :)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Welp, the dog just stuffed herself underneath the dangling toys of the baby's play mat and curled up on it. Her clear message that she's tired and misses her bed. I'm totally rolling here...but I should take that as my cue to wrap up and do the same...</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
...Good night, and please don't give up on my little blog.</div>
Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-39445101966164806662012-07-04T16:49:00.002-07:002012-07-04T16:50:30.460-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Y2DVfqFhseo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
As a follow-up to my last post, I wanted to post this video that provides an awesome visual as to why RF is so important for our kiddos. Watch for the crash tests that demonstrate what happens in an accident. Thanks to one of my friends on one of the FB discussion forums that I'm on for posting this!<br />
<br />
And then I'll crawl off my soap box and let you make your own decision. No judgment, just information so you can decide what's best for your family! Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-13499684314776947892012-07-03T12:19:00.003-07:002012-07-03T12:21:15.397-07:00The Bossy Nurse is IN<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yXuxrPxihsq9SlmX_oteeJwr2tY4TPAg-NVk4AvSrv-lX9B0cL8q_Xb-1yRCPZaywBbhocT8HVvYjRaKf7ut-5zPfV-CYdveDpoFQhDR7BQ0asmifmpXITsBos3m1LxFAdAVhHqbWJI/s1600/IMG_2182.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Okay. So. I'm pulling the bossy (I prefer to think "informative") nurse card and doing a blog post about car seats. A lot of people are having a baby soon. Or already had one. Or want to have one. And if there's one thing that all of them have in common, it's that to my knowledge none of them drive a horse and buggy. So, in some way, you'll have to obtain a car seat and need to know how to use it. And if there's anything I've learned in the past...ummmm....ten? years of being a nurse for new parents, one thing is very clear: we love to prepare for our babies. We love decorating, sewing, shopping, planning, cute-i-fying...but somehow, how to use that car seat is not on most people's radar.<br />
<br />
So. Let me help you out. I promise I'll be way less dry than the instructions that you won't read anyway, my pictures are cuter than the drawings, and you'll probably find out something you didn't realize you needed to know.<br />
<br />
I am NOT car seat certified. I would like to be. There are great resources online, and car seat inspections are FREE at most police departments and fire stations, and take about fifteen minutes. This is one of THE most important things you need to know as a parent, so please take that time on a Saturday or evening to do that.<br />
<br />
<b>First up: try to get a new seat.</b> Hand-me-downs and those bought at a garage sale may NOT be safe. They should be no older than five years and NEVER in an accident. You don't know the exact history of a hand-me-down or second-hand seat. Granted, there are many people who can't afford a brand new seat, and a hand-me-down is better than none at all. But for the heavy investing that we all do in stuff to make the nursery cute, cut some of that out and splurge on the good seat instead if at all possible.<br />
<br />
<b>Second: Take the car seat out of the box and look at it.</b> Before the baby is born. Put a teddy bear in and practice adjusting the straps. Legally, your nurse at the hospital can't do this for you, so you need to know what you're doing. Install the base (if you have one with the LATCH system and a car manufactured since...oh crud, I think 2002????, it's way easier than you think). Grind your knee into that base and pull the straps HARD. There should be no more than 1" of wiggle room either way.<br />
<br />
Okay, so now your baby is born and you're looking at it and the car seat and don't quite know what to do. Here's a visual to help you:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yXuxrPxihsq9SlmX_oteeJwr2tY4TPAg-NVk4AvSrv-lX9B0cL8q_Xb-1yRCPZaywBbhocT8HVvYjRaKf7ut-5zPfV-CYdveDpoFQhDR7BQ0asmifmpXITsBos3m1LxFAdAVhHqbWJI/s1600/IMG_2182.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yXuxrPxihsq9SlmX_oteeJwr2tY4TPAg-NVk4AvSrv-lX9B0cL8q_Xb-1yRCPZaywBbhocT8HVvYjRaKf7ut-5zPfV-CYdveDpoFQhDR7BQ0asmifmpXITsBos3m1LxFAdAVhHqbWJI/s320/IMG_2182.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
WHO is that chubby-faced newborn? It's two-day-old Levi Gouveia!!! :) Levi's in a Chico (say "KEY-co!") Keyfit 30, which means he could still use it up to 30lbs, but I think he'd be pretty ticked if I put him in it now. The Chico is one of the most popular and well-rated ones on the market, but there are a lot of great seats out there.<br />
<br />
So, notice a handful of things going on here:<br />
<br />
1. <b>Notice how tight the straps are.</b> And not twisted. I tell parents, if it seems like you're strapping them in too tight, you're doing it right. You should not be able to pinch ANY strap on their shoulders or by their legs. Yes, he or she will cry and protest and make you feel awful. I prefer that to the alternative in an accident.<br />
<br />
2. <b> Notice where the chest clip is</b>. It is NOT a belly clip and belongs between the armpits at the nipple line. It is designed to absorb energy in a crash and MUST be on the breastbone. If it's over the belly (where I see a lot of people position them), at best it won't do its job well, and at worst it can puncture the internal organs.<br />
<br />
3. <b>No after-market products to position his head.</b> You know, those soft upside-down U-shaped things so their head doesn't bobble. Most infant seats come with one, and that's fine. But if it didn't come IN the box with the seat, the manufacturer does NOT want you to use it, and use of any positioning device - especially if you have to place it under the straps - will void any warranty on the seat. Pretty much any owner's manual will tell you not to use it. There are a lot of things on the market that make you feel like you need it, but don't do it. The same goes for those fleecy J. Cole (or whatever the name is) things that people insert in the seat for the winter. Get one of those covers for the seat that fits over it like a shower cap, but NOTHING that goes under the straps.<br />
<br />
If your seat does NOT come with a positioning type of device, roll up receiving blankets and put them on the side of your baby's head. As long as nothing goes BEHIND the head or under the straps. <br />
<br />
Soooo...what to do in cold weather? First, <i>do not</i> put your baby in a bunting, snow suit, coat, or anything like that. They are too puffy, will interfere with you adjusting the straps, and will decompress in a crash and some babies (yes, what I'm about to say is true) will fly right out of their coat and straps. Place your baby in his or her normal clothes in the seat, put on a hat and cover with a blanket. That's all you need. Your mom and mother-in-law (note: this was not the case with MY mother and MIL, but I hear a lot of grandmas protest when I tell my patients this) will think you're being cruel for not putting a big snow suit on the baby while she's in the car seat. Too bad. Not safe.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGr49UArNOGr0cOk6guRfEF89BD1kytrm8SBI1zYoNaODGJto9rDPJ-5nYxmbSYXgXsZh20_iecfEpnviFpC2Ac-BjfqLo1ZtQIO7Hf58-8O-baKCKPMekS5lHDaqVkyZQOgvqcZMD_E/s1600/IMG_2700.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZGr49UArNOGr0cOk6guRfEF89BD1kytrm8SBI1zYoNaODGJto9rDPJ-5nYxmbSYXgXsZh20_iecfEpnviFpC2Ac-BjfqLo1ZtQIO7Hf58-8O-baKCKPMekS5lHDaqVkyZQOgvqcZMD_E/s320/IMG_2700.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
This is two-month-old Levi, which would be at the end of December. See? He's neither freezing nor unhappy. Your bundle won't be, either. :) <br />
<br />
There's a handful of other things I could tell you, but that's a good start. When (WHEN!) you get your car seat inspected by a certified person, they will tell you even more. :)<br />
<br />
Now. Your kid is 12 months old. Yay!!! Time to turn them around and forward face, right?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8eT1sjgGrjvHdS-Si74-NNxv3mJcUj9hxA83em_yw2A9cm35pIhNOWCoAebBpWJ0OzW4WuxS1KtT9Mm09r4oTzeCPHY12peHLs8k12scoQ9QFPdKpIo86qRGlQw_dbfkz3uzVjaXnww/s1600/IMG_4445.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix8eT1sjgGrjvHdS-Si74-NNxv3mJcUj9hxA83em_yw2A9cm35pIhNOWCoAebBpWJ0OzW4WuxS1KtT9Mm09r4oTzeCPHY12peHLs8k12scoQ9QFPdKpIo86qRGlQw_dbfkz3uzVjaXnww/s320/IMG_4445.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<b>*Scoreboard buzzer sound* </b>Maybe not so much.<br />
<br />
Yes, according to most state laws, 12 months (or 20lbs, whichever comes first) is the legal time to turn them around forward facing. But the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends rear-facing for at LEAST two years. Facing your buddy forward has nothing to do with a rite of passage or being more mature. It's just something you can now legally do, but it's not necessarily the best thing.<br />
<br />
<i>Now, if you don't like this, don't shoot the messenger. I'm not judging you, calling you names, or pulling you off my FB friends list if you forward-face your kids. If you have protests or other thoughts about extended rear-facing, take some time to look up the research and decide for yourself what is best for your kiddo. I'm only informing.</i><br />
<br />
The same rules apply to how to adjust the straps and chest clip. Levi is in a Britax (say "BRIGHT-ax") Marathon 70 from Target. It's not the super-duper-space-shuttle-ready car seat, but it got high scores on consumer and safety reports, and Britax is a great brand.<br />
<br />
Q: Why rear face?<br />
<br />
A: A toddler's head is still proportionally large to the rest of the body. For quite some time. It's the heaviest part of their body, and in even a minor rear-ending, will snap forward, and can even cause internal decapitation (look up "internal decapitation" on YouTube...it's a quick 1 or less video). When rear-facing, the seat cradles the body and head and absorbs the impact, rather than the limbs and head flinging forward. No whiplash.<br />
<br />
Q: But the legs are all crunched up. They'll break in a crash.<br />
<br />
A: It doesn't matter if their knees are against their nose. There is no evidence cited from any study indicating that rear-facing children break their legs in a crash...and these studies are typically done in Europe, where in many countries it is completely normal for kids to RF until four years old. Levi is a long kid and he sits criss-cross-applesauce, puts his feet all the way up on the back seat, or just sits spread-eagle. He's never complained.<br />
<br />
And if you think of it, think of how you drive. Or sit as a passenger. Especially as the driver - and especially if you're tall - you don't get the luxury of extending your legs much. It's just the way it is. We deal with it; so can they.<br />
<br />
Furthermore, and this sounds perhaps rather crass, but it's what sold me: <i>Broken leg - cast it. Broken neck - casket.</i><br />
<br />
Q: But my kid cries.<br />
<br />
A: Too bad. You're the parent. Sometimes I have to have wrestling matches with Levi to get him in his seat, because he can push his feet against the back seat and levitate himself off the seat. So I tickle or blow on his tummy, or just plain old wrestle it out because I'm mom and I really don't care what he thinks about his position. I'd rather have him alive and not in a halo....of any sort.<br />
<br />
There IS one huge disadvantage to rear-facing that I've seen:<br />
<br />
<i>Levi has never seen a train.</i><br />
<br />
He's always facing the other way. Oh well. Someday, when he's in junior high and finally gets to see what's coming instead of what's already gone by, he'll see a train crossing. But he does sit high enough to see out the back window and the side windows, and very much enjoys wow-wow-wowing at trucks, cars, dogs, people, and everything else. He in no way rides in a deprived manner.<br />
<br />
There is a LOT more that can be said about rear-facing and the physics of crash forces that support extended rear-facing, but I'm not nearly on the uptake enough to speak to all of it, but I will say that it's compelling enough that I would not be surprised if it became law soon to rear-face your kids until the age of 2. YouTube it, Google it, ask the car seat inspector about it WHEN you go for your initial (free!!!) inspection. For all the energy we put into their cuteness and their diet and their discipline and their social-ness and their intelligence, this is definitely worth the small time investment to learn what's safest for all the time they will spend in the car.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry for the long and boring post, but I don't spend precious Levi nap time blogging about things that I really don't care about. I really, really, REALLY feel strongly about car seat safety, so please take this info to heart. If you look around there are TOO many babies and toddlers incorrectly secured and it IS a matter of life and death for them, and if we as parents can spend however much time on Facebook, we can spend time researching what keeps them safest. Right?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-451373548104184162012-06-29T12:58:00.002-07:002012-06-29T12:59:28.603-07:00Twenty MonthsI'm not normally one to post all about Levi or hallmark his milestones...partly because I'm lazy, and partly because I like to write and think about something else.<br />
<br />
But....today I will make an exception. :)<br />
<br />
My little boy - my baby!! - is 20 months old today.<br />
<br />
In the past two weeks, his vocabulary has exploded. He's always been a "talker" but nothing terribly sophisticated. He invents his own words, or applies the same word to several things ("ba-ba" could be ball, Bible, or about three other things). But recently he's been way more bold about actually mimicking what we say, and stringing two words together.<br />
<br />
He loves his books.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcM04zCfie2GQJsHhyphenhypheniJVL6fHxuMoKaFoT6AtdzzLnTeXbvWB41ycHdbzoc_vi3pDoyuuHHtD54HpDIK5vhyfin4ObVk62n-OpHGWmjcOO7IZcKa59Ze-qYJNZQ24c1vNFvg9seRMwzU/s1600/011.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcM04zCfie2GQJsHhyphenhypheniJVL6fHxuMoKaFoT6AtdzzLnTeXbvWB41ycHdbzoc_vi3pDoyuuHHtD54HpDIK5vhyfin4ObVk62n-OpHGWmjcOO7IZcKa59Ze-qYJNZQ24c1vNFvg9seRMwzU/s320/011.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
He loves his daddy.<br />
<br />
He loves to wear hats.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKH0WG5ZmiaP3rUPIA3d3paPgYbZWvF8vbpHqaitkdwBUi7iAZwkvmZgjXxv8vbhBR3habvq4XDYYnKdvlF26UrnMdKLOx1O2YTfKkeXjsEHnRkHUAWJkfjzM4whUTamR8D4HisU_xJHw/s1600/001+%282%29.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKH0WG5ZmiaP3rUPIA3d3paPgYbZWvF8vbpHqaitkdwBUi7iAZwkvmZgjXxv8vbhBR3habvq4XDYYnKdvlF26UrnMdKLOx1O2YTfKkeXjsEHnRkHUAWJkfjzM4whUTamR8D4HisU_xJHw/s320/001+%282%29.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
This is how he puts on his own hat. Gangsta-style. :) <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAqSe0neN4WojUKTltGsOBYFyQQlO9FTb7kYut2CI9zMcYLH4xMNbBLTrJxd5w8pva7lPAVHLwh0cQvX6Ma4jGoVbmBf2A8sJGqJPYmK3LS1_hqiWket0UEq4V4R7B8JVanV8N5zbTuDE/s1600/003.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAqSe0neN4WojUKTltGsOBYFyQQlO9FTb7kYut2CI9zMcYLH4xMNbBLTrJxd5w8pva7lPAVHLwh0cQvX6Ma4jGoVbmBf2A8sJGqJPYmK3LS1_hqiWket0UEq4V4R7B8JVanV8N5zbTuDE/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
He loves doing something he thinks is hysterical and has a telltale squeal of delight that informs me, "You have GOT to come and check this out!"<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2AyrK7E0IODUWLZF1ikgpHKc6Dh4FfJe0Gh3js5UjrVHtJpU3pCiMRIscY1q4_D0bH0UqxK4bAM2pbSlPrErreVxFZ0mCaWx_UFuGsOyful_yJZRzvwdOck-tl8SD2EorqM5EOCaYZk8/s1600/005.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2AyrK7E0IODUWLZF1ikgpHKc6Dh4FfJe0Gh3js5UjrVHtJpU3pCiMRIscY1q4_D0bH0UqxK4bAM2pbSlPrErreVxFZ0mCaWx_UFuGsOyful_yJZRzvwdOck-tl8SD2EorqM5EOCaYZk8/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
Like here. I came out of his room to see poor Molly looking like, "I hate my life."<br />
<br />
He hates making messes and will pull out a cloth to wipe up his spills (oh, if only I could remain in the delusion that this will continue through the teen years!)<br />
<br />
<br />
.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHw0H4XkiBaQBEqD9rFJSOs74ffw-jDIewdhK4-mgjact_Q_2eTNFdKIromYukzv89mKaMy_eruzjo-d9c4CX6uS5w0oFT9D2yFsvpbubVI01FOVJPPOiPezVcwOPZJsIpmhW3YmuFs9Y/s1600/002.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHw0H4XkiBaQBEqD9rFJSOs74ffw-jDIewdhK4-mgjact_Q_2eTNFdKIromYukzv89mKaMy_eruzjo-d9c4CX6uS5w0oFT9D2yFsvpbubVI01FOVJPPOiPezVcwOPZJsIpmhW3YmuFs9Y/s320/002.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
But he loves emptying drawers.<br />
<br />
He's an amazing hugger. Like choke-hold.<br />
<br />
He has an incredible laugh. I tell Matt that I wish I could bottle it up, and several years from now when he's out of the house, I can just uncap the bottle and listen to the infectious bubbly-ness of his giggle.<br />
<br />
He knows he has a brother coming and knows he's in my tummy (though sometimes he'll point to Matt's or his own tummy). He knows that his family consists of Mama, Papa, and _______.<br />
<br />
He loves to imitate blowing his nose and throwing away the kleenex. Last week at Meijer a man nearby sneezed and blew his nose and Levi about died laughing and started imitating him. Which made the man crack up. Which made Levi ham it up even more. I really need to start charging for this little one-man act at the grocery store.<br />
<br />
He loves taking out the garbage. One scrap of paper or plastic shall not fall in our house without him whisking it up and demanding it be thrown away instantly. Dog hair tumbleweeds shall not exist in our house without him pulling out the Dust Buster and demanding it be taking care of. Immediately.<br />
<br />
He exhausts us. The kid has unparalleled energy. Getting out the door in less than 20 minutes is a monumental feat.<br />
<br />
His heart is just as desperate for a Savior as our own. Sowing seeds of grace into it every day is our greatest task.<br />
<br />
We want him to be polite;<i> but we don't want his manners to create a pridefulness that will give him cause to look down on others who are less "refined."</i><br />
<br />
We want him to be intelligent; <i>but we don't want him to think that success in the eyes of the world is the measure of his worth.</i><br />
<br />
We want him to know the Lord; <i>but we don't want him to make a profession of faith out of wanting to please his parents.</i><br />
<br />
We want him to follow rules; <i>but we don't want him to be crushed by rules and lawfulness</i>. We hope he will be crushed by the tremendous and awesome grace and conviction of the Holy Spirit, and know that <i>obedience follows a heart full of gratitude and love.</i><br />
<br />
We want him to understand that he's not a "good boy" because he is inherently good of his own accord; <i>rather that he is "good" before an awesome Lord because of the sanctifying work of Christ on his behalf.</i><br />
<br />
What a tremendous weight of responsibility.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>What a tremendous honor. </i><br />
<br />
<b><i>We love you, sweet Levi.</i></b><br />
<br />
<b><i> </i></b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjvdoJtEnWvZzWt56ZqNfwzlPQy1eUPMqVp-TERPDsPO3wW2gHlPoTMnw2CGDpcpp9pmrIEl25g_ZCGDim8y8wC4rMWVCOYpohTqJqYWmj3xuB1hwa0-8aZvvSVwlJdM9MHyldFFexVQ/s1600/002+%282%29.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjvdoJtEnWvZzWt56ZqNfwzlPQy1eUPMqVp-TERPDsPO3wW2gHlPoTMnw2CGDpcpp9pmrIEl25g_ZCGDim8y8wC4rMWVCOYpohTqJqYWmj3xuB1hwa0-8aZvvSVwlJdM9MHyldFFexVQ/s320/002+%282%29.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-91882561682622736032012-05-21T12:35:00.001-07:002012-05-21T12:44:39.678-07:00Would you have known what to do??????Soooooo...I was confronted with an awkward situation not too long ago. It was one of those things that you, upon reading this, will probably be able to say, "Oh my word, I would totally have done/said/called ________..." because it seems painfully (and should be painfully) obvious. If you wrote this and I read it, I would think the same thing. But you really never know until you're in it, and I found that I clearly did not do the right thing. So out of mild embarrassment, and sort of as a public service announcement, I present you with said situation, and the correct solution at the end. :)<br />
<br />
You pull up to a store. Say, a Christian book store, in the late morning. There are few cars in the lot, and HAHA!!! there's a primo spot right up by the door. You park, next to an SUV that is also directly in front of the door and large display windows.<br />
<br />
You get out to wrest your child out of his car seat, and note the SUV - black, windows cracked, engine running, no one in the car. You think sarcastically, "Sure wish I were rich enough to keep my car running while I shop.." and then inwardly chastise yourself for thinking haughty sarcastic thoughts in front of - a Christian bookstore. ;)<br />
<br />
And then you look again - at the risk of being snoopy, because the windows are very tinted - and are completely taken aback. A little boy is looking back at you...no older than Levi's age...from his car seat. At the risk of being even more snoopy, you cup your hand around your eyes against the window to make sure there isn't a grandparent, sibling, or anyone else there. There isn't. The boy looks content. He's not crying. The day is becoming very warm but the sun is on the other side of the building so he's very much in the shade....and.....well...this is weird to see a kid by himself in a running car.......<br />
<br />
You justify to yourself - how many times have you thought, "Doggone it - I do *NOT* want to unbuckle _____ AGAIN just to run into Walgreens for three seconds." And then again, you inwardly chastise yourself at those moments,thinking - it takes a split second, the wrong person in the right place at the right time, the brake slips, the engine spontaneously combusts, whatever....and I'd live with my regret for the rest of my life. Nope, can't do that, and so you unbuckle him. Again.<br />
<br />
Maybe the mom ran in for a quick second and is watching the car like a hawk. Yeah, that must be it. If you were at the grocery store, that would be a no-brainer - huge parking lot, kid alone in vehicle = a call to the police. But this is a tiny bookstore...in a small parking lot...in front of the large windows...does that change things?????<br />
<br />
So you go in the store. Not a soul - not even a cashier - can be immediately seen. A small handful of people shopping there. You later figure out that the woman who was literally sitting in the Bible aisle, surrounded by Bibles and books, completely surrounded by large bookshelves and clearly immersed in her choices, is the mother of the boy in the car.<br />
<br />
Do you.......<br />
<br />
Confront her???<br />
<br />
Grab the license plate number and call the police?<br />
<br />
What do you do???<br />
<br />
Confronting her is a sticky enterprise. No doubt it'll not be received well - even if you're clearly in the right.<br />
<br />
Calling the police seems sticky - will you have to wait there and be questioned? Can you remain anonymous? How do you remain anonymous when your car is clearly the one right next to hers, it'll be pretty easy to conclude it was you who called...and maybe she's a really awesome mom. And now she's open to a CPS investigation that could entirely ruin the next few weeks for her. What's the fallout of that???<br />
<br />
So you do the worst possible thing...nothing. She spends her sweet time in the store, debates about getting her new Bible engraved, and then drives off. Nothing happened to her toddler. She probably will do it again.<br />
<br />
I did nothing. And I'm kicking myself for it. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt - I mean, there's a REASON I don't go to bookstores or any place that requires me to stand still for more than three seconds to make a decision. Taking an antsy little boy into the bookstore is a recipe for frustration at best. That day I had my mom with me, so we could tag team while we looked at what we wanted while Levi systematically dismantled the Veggie Tales display, touched every book, keychain, and bookmark, and gawked at the candy. That lady was by herself. Undoubtedly, she did what she did so she could actually take her time. I get it.<br />
<br />
But it was still........and I'm really not trying to judge HER, just make a discernment on this one decision........a very stupid thing to do. Maybe our parents could do it 30 years ago, I don't know. It's just...it only takes a split second. And your baby is gone. No trip to any store, no amount of peace and quiet, is worth that.<br />
<br />
So what should you do???<br />
<br />
Well, Matt works - (<i>well, this is his last day, he's now an employee at Gentex in Zeeland!!!! WOOOOOOH!! No more commute!!!! - but that's a different post for a different day</i>) in Grand Rapids police department. He asked one of his cop friends. The right thing to do is take the license plate number and call the police and let them handle it. Confronting invariably leads to a confrontation that becomes an issue between you and the other person, and then it's on a totally different level of problematic. In this case, assuming this is a normal mom with no prior "history," she'd get a quick visit from CPS with an admonition on why this should never be done, and then hopefully it's a done deal. (And FYI - evidently the fact that the car was running puts it on a whole different level, apparently, and she could have been charged with abandonment.)<br />
<br />
Soooo...if this happens again, I'll know what to do. I hope it doesn't, but if it happens to you, don't make the same mistake I did and do nothing. If something popped up on the news that night about that little boy, I would feel partially to blame, basically standing by and doing nothing when I could have. It was just one of those instances that in retrospect - or even in theory - seems terribly obvious, but when you're in it, you're like UHHHHHHH.....UHHHHHHH....and we all hate those moments. So, learn from my mental oblivion and don't let this happen again :) And it's just another reminder that it IS worth it to do the carseat-wrestling-match multiple times.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-20896418222180509942012-04-11T10:58:00.003-07:002012-04-11T11:47:44.087-07:00JudgmentalWell, after nearly two years of not-very-in-depth but definitely experiential research, I have reached a conclusion. I can now name the most judgmental group of people I have ever encountered...and perhaps that group will surprise you...drumroll....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Moms.</span><br /><br />I am going to start this post by saying that I am the president of the Judgmental Mom club and I am directing my remarks as much at myself as anyone else, so your finger can point right at me and I will not - cannot - argue or defend myself.<br /><br />Is there any one group of people that is more bent on sizing each other up and drawing swords - yet more in need of encouragement - than any other? The battle lines are endless, they criss-cross, connect, zig-zag - they're all over the map. Just like our thoughts and emotions. It's a mess. <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">The homebirth moms vs. the medically-mediated-birth moms.</span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">The Babywise moms vs. Attachment Parents. </span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">Co-sleepers vs. Ferberizers. </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Vax vs. no-vax.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Breastfeeders vs. formula.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">EXTENDED breastfeeders vs. those who quit before or at a year. </span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Discipline methods. </span> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);">Food choices.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Home schooling or public? <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Dating, courting, or "dourting?</span></span>" <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Curfews.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">College or no college.</span> We have thoughts, opinions, and blog posts to splash on Facebook to back up our views, from celebrities, pastors, and "mommy blogs."<br /><br />Let's just get it all out in the open that we ALL feel insecure, like bumbling fools with these tender little hearts to raise, and we don't have a clue. We all wake up some mornings and think, <span style="font-style: italic;">How am I going to do this again today?</span> It's fun to post pictures of our pudgy babies and silly kids on blogs and Facebook, but the reality is that having your hand at the plow to your child's heart is work, more work than you ever believed, and you'd sure like to see someone doing it worse than you, because it makes you feel a whole lot better about the ludicrous act you feel like you're pulling sometimes.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right? <span style="font-weight: bold;">Right?!</span></span><br /><br />I read a <a href="http://www.naturallyhealthy.org/blog/index.php?entry=entry111207-101931">post</a> recently that gave me the encouragement AND conviction I needed (it's a shorty, I highly recommend checking it out). And that post is the springboard for the following thoughts and reality checks -<br /><br />1. <span style="font-style: italic;"> Christ gave us freedom in our decisions (Romans 14:16).</span> All of our arguments and stances and positions are preferences - and yes, many of them are backed up by much research and there are clearly some things that are better than others - BUT - they are still decisions we can freely make when we want to do what's best for our families. It becomes a problem, as the author of the blog post sagely pointed out, when we use our preferences and decisions to build a fortress around ourselves inside which only those who have made the same decisions are welcome - and deem everyone else around us ignorant and stupid.<br /> <br />2. <span style="font-style: italic;">The condition of our child's heart and soul are the most important (Deuteronomy 6:4-9).</span> Obviously, diet and education and reading to your kids and bonding and loving and adapting good sleep habits and all that are terribly important. But let's not construct idols while we're doing these things. God has a LOT to tell us in His Word about parenting...and it's all in the context of raising wise and discerning people (<span style="font-style: italic;">just about every verse in Proverbs</span>), children who love Him and His law (<span style="font-style: italic;">Psalm 1)</span>, and who keep their way pure by guarding it according to His Word (<span style="font-style: italic;">Psalm 119</span>). And even then we have no guarantee. You can do flashcards from sunup to sundown with your kiddo, and he may never be ahead of the other kids in reading. And you can instruct and train your child's heart and they may still rebel. Adam and Eve rebelled and they had the perfect Father and the perfect environment. Our kids will make their own choices no matter HOW hard we try to keep their feet from going to the left or to the right.<br /><br />3. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Lord hates haughty eyes (Proverbs 6:17)</span>. There is simply no room for any of us to look down on each other for how we discipline (obviously I am not excusing abuse, I assume I don't really need to clarify that), what we feed our families, whether or not we vaccinate, etc. This comes down to a pride issue and there's no room for that in our relationships.<br /><br />And finally...<br /><br />4. <span style="font-style: italic;">The opposite of judgment is encouragement (Ephesians 4:29)</span>. A huge shout-out to my neighbor, Tab Wolters, for coining this very profound and simple truth!! We moms (women in general!!) need to encourage each other at every opportunity!!! In agreement or disagreement, the bottom line is <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">we love our kids and would die for them.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>We make decisions for them that we truly believe is best. Whether we feed them green smoothies or milkshakes from McDonald's, we just plain love 'em and can't believe they've been entrusted to our care.<br /><br />So join me in laying it down, ladies. :)Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-15933487279329220872012-03-30T10:08:00.003-07:002012-03-30T10:24:41.598-07:00Another one of those daysApparently Levi is afraid of thunder this year. <br /><br />I found that out this morning when we had about five mild rumbles of thunder. My normally relatively-collected son morphed into a barnacle clinging to me for dear life. For hours. I have never seen him so absolutely crumpled.<br /><br />Moms who have high-strung, clingy, and needy kids, I salute you. Some kids are just born that way. Mine wasn't, THANK GOODNESS (but #2 might, I can't speak too soon). How you get anything done is beyond me.<br /><br />So we spent the morning absolutely entwined...there were times when he clung so tightly to me I really didn't even need to hold on to him myself. I somehow managed to sweep while he ate breakfast (thankfully, food trumps even fear for him), vacuum while he stood on my feet and buried his face in my pajama pants, put beef stew in the crock pot (mind you, to distract him from the thunder I did a tutorial - on the floor, with my cutting board and garlic press - on how to cut, peel, and mince garlic), and do five loads of laundry. Hey man, we have a busy weekend that includes me working tomorrow and all of this was front-burner stuff, thunder-fear, barnacles, or not. Meanwhile, I'm huffing and puffing like the fat kid on the playground while carrying 25 pounds of raw anxiety, thanks to being pregnant.<br /><br />When he wasn't afraid, he was just full of it. I'm making lunch and little hands are grabbing at everything on the counter, pulling things off the table, launching into the fridge. <span style="font-style: italic;">No. No-no. No we don't touch that. No. Please stop. No-no. I said no, Levi.</span> He wants to touch the toilet, the garbage, everything gross in the house. Everything we tell him not to touch every. single. day. He's spilling the dog's water. He watches Molly eat like a HAWK and won't let me get anything done until I've refilled the bowl right then and there. I fold laundry, he unfolds it. I fill, he empties. I put away, he takes out.<br /><br />I'm not writing this to complain. I have zero spiritual application here nor will I try to find one. It's just one of those days, and I'm exceedingly grateful that these days are few and far between for me!! I'm BEAT! And it's only 1 in the afternoon!! I about sang with sweet relief when I put him down for his nap (I think he did too)!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What am I going to do with two???</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">How do you moms out there with three, four, or more kids do it??</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Augh!</span>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-62676508767225172542012-03-19T11:03:00.005-07:002012-03-19T11:41:53.145-07:00No guiltI'm sitting here blogging and <span style="font-style: italic;">should</span> be doing dinner prep.<br /><br />I did a ton of housework this morning while I feel like I <span style="font-style: italic;">should</span> have been playing with my little boy. After all, we've all read the poem about finger prints on the wall or whatever.<br /><br />I gave my kid a sucker at my OB appointment this morning so he'd be occupied. It<span style="font-style: italic;"> should </span>have been an organic, non-GMO, gluten-free cracker or something like that (not dogging it, I have all those things)...but he really loves his "doctor appointment sucker" and gobbles it with reckless abandonment.<br /><br />His lunch <span style="font-style: italic;">should </span>have been colorful, thoughtfully and excitingly displayed...but it was a piece of torn up turkey lunchmeat, a hastily-cut piece of co-jack cheese, and some older-than-necessary cantaloupe, basically all thrown in one bowl (because I needed to make it to said OB appointment).<br /><br />Aren't you so sick of <span style="font-style: italic;">shoulds</span>? And feeling guilty? What's that all about?<br /><br />I've worn a mantle of guilt since Levi made his roaring entrance two Octobers ago. You?<br /><br />I've never had professional pictures taken of Levi. No chubby baby spilling out of a basket or wearing a sock monkey hat. No heartwarming photo of the three of us walking in a field together. Nada. I gave up taking many pictures of him at all because A) he won't stop moving for a nanosecond, and B) every picture ends up being of his hand reaching to the camera and his face threatening to cry.<br /><br />He eats like a barbarian. He knows how to use a spoon and fork, and I've been pretty impressed when he actually takes up the effort. But he'd rather plow thru his food as a ten-finger experience rather than be neat. And I'm okay with that. The three of us enjoy dinner together, Matt and I enjoy conversation, and Levi eats with reckless abandonment (notice a theme?). He's pretty neat about it, it all ends up mostly in his mouth, and he's not picky. Not terribly civilized, but I'll take it.<br /><br />I don't sit down and formally teach him all of his numbers and letters every day. <span style="font-style: italic;">Collectively gasp now.</span> I'm not an "every moment is a teaching moment" mom. I guess I<span style="font-style: italic;"> should</span> be? He's got books aplenty, magnetic letters since he was about four months old (and every once in a while he runs by and hits the button on this little apparatus that sings the alphabet), and all that stuff. I figure he'll start stringing it all together when his brain has the right amount of myelin in the the right places.<br /><br />I let him play alone (or follow a few inches behind me) while I clean the house. Because I want order and I want him to see that work is a good thing and a regular part of our day. But then I feel guilty because I feel like I should be doing things like taking him to the photographer and, you know, whipping out flash cards.<br /><br />But we DO set boundaries. And pray with him. Apologize when we know we've lost our self-control. We're teaching him the importance of obedience and the word <span style="font-style: italic;">no</span>. We're consistent with discipline. He might not listen to me and Matt all the time but he doesn't have to be told something twice when he's with the sitter.<br /><br />I'm not trying to be bragadocious, I'm just saying that if you sit back and evaluate, you're really not doing everything wrong even though you feel like it some days. Ta-RUST me, there ARE some parents out there who ARE doing a LOT of things wrong AND ruining their kids' lives...and if you're currently reading this blog in any way or capacity, you are NOT one of those people.<br /><br />God's Word has a lot to say about what being a good parent is and what the job entails. Believe me, it has <span style="font-style: italic;">nothing</span> to do with how early your kid walks or talks, if they can recite Avagadro's number by a certain age, if their manners are perfect, whether or not their plate has a full rainbow of colors on it, or if their sippy has juice or water in it. Nothing. All of these are outward signs but say nothing about the condition of their hearts, over which we have zero control. All we can do is pray for them, examine the condition of our <span style="font-style: italic;">own</span> hearts, and sow as much Truth into them (ours AND theirs) as we can.<br /><br />It doesn't matter how many professional pictures you have.<br />Or how great your kid's manners are.<br />Or any of that.<br /><br />You will not stand in front of the Throne of Grace and account for any of those things.<br /><br /><br />So (and I'm speaking to myself here) - <span style="font-style: italic;">stop feeling guilty.</span><br /><br /><br style="font-style: italic;"><br style="font-style: italic;">Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-59768985515601260962012-03-09T11:04:00.003-08:002012-03-09T11:28:34.727-08:00Have notsIf by reading my blog you get the impression that I listen to the radio <span style="font-style: italic;">a lot</span>, your impression is correct. It gives me good stuff to think about!<br /><br />So I was listening to Midday Connection today (the one I referred to in my last post with all the cackling hens that normally drive me crazy), and one of the hosts opened up with talking about needing to run to the mall to get a pair of pants, and even though she found and bought what she wanted, she couldn't help but leave feeling like....a <span style="font-style: italic;">have not.</span> Just the way the store clerk behaved, the way everyone in the store was dressed, the overall everything.<br /><br />Do you ever just feel like a <span style="font-style: italic;">have not??</span> I'm embarrassed to admit that I do. In a lot of situations. I feel like a <span style="font-style: italic;">have not</span> when I go shopping sometimes...my uniform is old jeans and a sweatshirt. In the summer a pair of sandals (the same pair I've been wearing for over 10 years) is nearly welded onto my feet. My highlights are half grown out most of the time, my nails are manicured by my teeth when they start to bug me, and there may or may not be makeup on my face. And I'm surrounded by people with spiffy smart little outfits, cutesie little skinny jeans and fashionable boots, perfectly styled and colored hair, and sassy handbags.<br /><br />I feel like a <span style="font-style: italic;">have not</span> on Facebook. I think, <span style="font-style: italic;">Wow, they have a really nice house.</span>.. or<span style="font-style: italic;"> Goodness, they got to go on another fancy vacation...</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">She always has great outfits on</span>...or whatever.<br /><br />Kids half my age (fortunately, people half my age technically <span style="font-style: italic;">are </span>still kids...not for long...) have Smart phones, sleek computers, nice cars, and killer wardrobes.<br /><br />I feel like a <span style="font-style: italic;">have not</span> at church. There, I said it. I'm not trying to knock anyone, nor am I thinking of anyone in particular, and I know that Sunday truly is the one day for most people to look nice, and most of them do it out of respect. But let's face it, do you ever just feel like you're in a fashion show for the Almighty? But I know that someone next to me feels like a <span style="font-style: italic;">have not</span>, because I try to dress nicely too. It's just in the same pair of black pants every single week with the hem that keeps falling down. <span style="font-style: italic;">BTW - this is why Matt always wears jeans to church. Because there are a lot of people there who truly are have nots. And we've heard stories of people coming to church who didn't feel like they could come back unless they had a suit, because that's what everyone else was wearing and they didn't fit in. </span><br /><br />My point here is not to get anyone to write back to me and say, "Oh! But YOU have a nice house too! You always look nice! You wear nice clothes!" so I feel a little better. Nor is it my point to make anyone feel guilty. My point is, I'm NOT a have-not. Not at all. *Very* few of us in this country truly are.<br /><br />I heard once that <span style="font-weight: bold;">comparison is the death of gratitude.</span> That's the bottom line. When I compare myself with others and let that comparing attitude settle into my heart, I completely fail to see what I already have and abandon any opportunity to be grateful for it. And that's just flat-out wrong. And it hardly glorifies God. It's basically me thumbing my nose at Him and saying He could've done better. Think of when your kids/spouse/friends complain when you've given them so much. Yeah no.<br /><br />So I need to reconsider when I feel like a <span style="font-style: italic;">have not.</span> My treasure can't lie here anyway...so what difference does it make?Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-77335816541098675312012-02-10T11:36:00.000-08:002012-02-10T11:55:07.232-08:00Three wordsSo today I was listening to Midday Connection on Moody - not a show I normally listen to, it kind of reminds me of a Christian version of The View, with a bunch of cackling hens who all talk over each other. But sometimes their discussion piques (note: not <span style="font-style: italic;">peaks</span> - grammar police here) my interest, and today I briefly listened in.<br /><br />In their jabbering, someone asked the question, "What three words describe your life right now?" I was intrigued by the very honest answers some of the ladies gave.<br /><br />I remember getting the "use three words to describe yourself" question in an interview one time, and I was like, <span style="font-style: italic;">uhhhhhh....uhhhhhhh...</span>.<br /><br />It's a really good question.<br /><br />So what three words would I use to describe my life right now?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Structured.</span><br /><br />Oh my word, there is zero room for spontaneity in our life right now. Every day, every hour, the same. Get up at the same time. Read <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >the same</span> books <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >over and over and over</span> at the same time. Walk at the same time. Snack. Nap. Quiet time. Lunch. Read. Nap....read the same books over and over and over...witching hour - witching hour - witching hour (that's 4-6pm)...bath, bed, collapse, repeat.<br /><br />It's just the way life is right now. Levi thrives on his schedule and that's the way it is. I tried to move him off his morning nap, but he really wants/needs it still, so yep, we're still bound to a two-nap schedule. Spontaneous lunches/coffee dates/whatever are just on hold for right now.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Simple.</span><br /><br />Very. Very. Simple. It kind of goes along with the structure. We read books. We get our jollies throwing balls down the stairs. And playing <span style="font-style: italic;">Wheerrrrrrreeee's LEVI?</span> I say the same things over and over and over again, like, <span style="font-style: italic;">Do we stand on the furniture? NO. </span>I retrieve the dog's ball from under the couch at least 23 times daily. Two pairs of my jeans blew holes in the knees in one week from crawling on the floor so much. I put on makeup only when it's an absolute social necessity (and no, shopping at Meijer is NOT an absolute social necessity) OR if I want some semblance of variety in my day and eyeliner would do the trick. I wear the same tshirt during the day that I wear to bed. We walk around the neighborhood and make truck sounds, repeat made-up words to each other, and...well, there's my day in a nutshell. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Needy.</span><br /><br />Not as in, feed the poor (though you're welcome to feed me any time), but I just stand in absolute need. In being a wise wife. In disciplining my son, shepherding his heart, and being a student of his heart. In the moments when my cup runneth over with frustration. In the areas of my life right now where there is so. much. fear. that doesn't belong there. I'm just a simple wife/mom/friend with no makeup and holes in her jeans who desperately needs the comfort, direction, and rest that can only come from her Savior.<br /><br />That about sums up my life right now....what are YOUR three words??Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-91530896004239327532012-02-01T10:39:00.000-08:002012-02-01T11:15:29.129-08:00THAT ladyTrue Confession time:<br /><br />I'm that lady.<br /><br />The one who stands in line at the grocery store and places copies of <span style="font-style: italic;">Better Homes and Gardens </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">Cooking Lite </span>over <span style="font-style: italic;">Glamour, Cosmo, Health,</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Redbook.</span><br /><br />I'm not anti-glamorous, anti-health, or anti-cosmopolitan (whatever that might mean). I'm not even discounting the fact that those magazines actually contain helpful and interesting information that I am interested in reading as well. I don't oppose anyone who wants to buy one or all of them. I don't.<br /><br />But I AM anti-half-naked. And I have a wide-eyed little boy in my cart whose eyes (in a very short amount of time here) are going to become, um, even wider (<span style="font-style: italic;">in more ways than one, might I add).</span> Is this how I want him to see women?<br /><br />Maybe someday I'll have a little girl in my cart. Is this how I want her to see herself? Enslaved to impossible standards of beauty and success? Our culture calls it <span style="font-style: italic;">liberation.</span> But can we call it bondage?<br /><br />They pick these things up at an early age. My friends who are kindergarten teachers already see little boys become riveted, transfixed, and stupefied by mothers who come to help the class with their bosoms pouring out of their shirt. Talks about modesty and respect have to happen sooner rather than later.<br /><br />Already I whisper in Levi's ear when we approach a Victoria's Secret at the mall - with it's floor-to-ceiling advertisement for a push-up bra - <span style="font-style: italic;">Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart, son.</span> He doesn't know what I'm talking about, I know that. But soon he will. Soon he will start feeling the undertow of a culture that vomits sexuality all over his face, and an industry that hopes to claim him - and make him a lifelong addict - <span style="font-weight: bold;">by the age of 8.</span><br /><br />Some days I want to weep when I see that I'm at the downstream end of Class 5 rapids, feeling like I need to paddle UP with a blow-up ring and a spoon, clutching the hand of my child. See dignity and worth in girls, my sweet boy. Daughter, clothe yourself with strength and dignity, not deceitful charm. Point it out to me when I do not walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which I have been called! <span style="font-style: italic;">Do not buy the lie that how you look, how you dress, how-to-catch-a-man...those are what you strive for.</span><br /><br />This weekend is the Superbowl, and please bear this in mind: the largest sporting event of the year is also the <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2011/01/30/the-super-bowl-of-sex-trafficking.html">largest sex-trafficking event of the year</a>. No, not prostitutes who are "choosing" this lifestyle (and please don't think that most prostitutes choose their lifestyle, by the way, many of them are coerced, bullied, and abused into it), but most of them minors who are sold into sexual slavery and trafficked over our borders. Where there is a demand, it will be met.<br /><br />It starts with a look.<br /><br />And gives way to curiosity.<br /><br />And leaves us stuffing our faces with the fruit of bondage. Yet wanting more.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Desire when it has conceived...</span><br style="font-style: italic;"><br style="font-style: italic;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> ....gives birth to sin....</span><br style="font-style: italic;"></div><br style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> ...which fully grown brings forth death.</span><br style="font-style: italic;"><br />And THAT is why I am "that" lady.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-19742277733977978602012-01-06T16:26:00.000-08:002012-01-06T16:31:12.690-08:00All in one week<div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Monday...<br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDlcBBtiL5py3H386HKW9V8xrhc2GS5EuLbSe_LhEXLbXsM0RB9uTtV2Er1PBho6kd7QPEy0RJR3Mqpc9-r8lioaUsfb-ij5AbIGJ3MQv_Al-4px8PWfyzP1OzwsRYIzR-AILsqzjIQ0/s1600/IMG_4449.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDlcBBtiL5py3H386HKW9V8xrhc2GS5EuLbSe_LhEXLbXsM0RB9uTtV2Er1PBho6kd7QPEy0RJR3Mqpc9-r8lioaUsfb-ij5AbIGJ3MQv_Al-4px8PWfyzP1OzwsRYIzR-AILsqzjIQ0/s320/IMG_4449.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694680132360496466" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">...aaaaannnnd Friday</span>.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIj8fcUHtyXHHhFMVnvahH0G4jE-ViG6HwQjx6KVstqPMtkhGLQAfJUQ9ekjEzOXnzgQJ8A-Ir2IJs6wKklQddI6Gf48fVYhE4Y-Wds_UlGVlntopM_qmhEwLZu3hqOzLRtmM4cPgIAUo/s1600/IMG_4454.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIj8fcUHtyXHHhFMVnvahH0G4jE-ViG6HwQjx6KVstqPMtkhGLQAfJUQ9ekjEzOXnzgQJ8A-Ir2IJs6wKklQddI6Gf48fVYhE4Y-Wds_UlGVlntopM_qmhEwLZu3hqOzLRtmM4cPgIAUo/s320/IMG_4454.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694680134701901794" border="0" /></a>This is seriously the weirdest winter in my life. Sled on Monday and wagon on Friday...and it's January, not March.<br /></div>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-30293371548044030542011-12-29T10:21:00.001-08:002011-12-29T10:43:01.707-08:00Yummies...so admit it, your NY resolution really <span style="font-style: italic;">IS</span> to lose 15lbs. And eat a little healthier. Let me help you out. Here are a few fabulous recipes that either have been staples in our house, or are new ones that will NOW be staples in our house!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Harvest Muffins</span> (easily made gf or regular - just use regular flour if you're not gf)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This recipe comes from <span style="font-style: italic;">Wheat-Free, Gluten-Free Cookbook for Kids and Busy Adults</span> by Connie Sarros.</span><br /><br />I was beYOND impressed when I made these. Even gluten-free (definitely use your xanthan gum, though, if your gf flour mix doesn't already contain it) they were light, fluffy, and perfect. I was like, shazzam. So was Levi.<br /><br />1c chopped pitted dates (use wet scissors for the easiest chopping)<br />1/2 c raisins (I got sick of chopping dates so increased the amount of raisins and decreased the dates)<br />3/4c water<br />2 eggs, slightly beaten<br />1/2c brown sugar<br />1/2c unsweetened applesauce<br />1/4c orange juice<br />1/4c olive oil<br />2t vanilla<br />1 1/2 t almond extract (I didn't have any)<br />1/2c chopped nuts (I omitted this)<br />2c g-free flour mixture (my fave is Bob's Red Mill all-purpose gluten-free mix)<br />1/4t salt<br />2t baking soda<br />1 tablespoon baking powder<br />3/4 t cinnamon<br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 350, spray muffin tins (I brushed them with olive oil, turns out fine)<br />2. Put the dates and raisins in a large saucepan. Add the water, bring to a boil on the stove, boil till the water is absorbed (~4min). Remove from heat and let mixture cool.<br />3. In a large bowl, beat the eggs with a fork till frothy. Stir in the brown sugar, applesauce, OJ, olive oil, vanilla, and almond extract.<br />4. Stir in the dates and raisins, stir in the nuts.<br />5. Add the flour mixture, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and cinnamon, and stir with a rubber spatula just until the ingredients are blended (over-stirring makes for dense muffins with weird peaks).<br />6. Spoon the batter into the muffins tins to about 2/3 full.<br />7. Bake for about 15 minutes or till a toothpick comes out clean. Let sit for about 10min before removing from pans.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tuscan Soup</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">from <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ultimate Guide to the Daniel Fast</span> by Kristen Feola</span><br /><br />Okay, if I make something like spaghetti, Levi's like <span style="font-style: italic;">meh </span>about it. When I make this soup, he's on it like bark on a tree. Go figure.<br /><br />1T olive oil<br />1c diced onion<br />1c diced carrot<br />2 cloves garlic, minced<br />6 c vegetable broth (I really like Better Than Bouillon, it's a really hearty flavor that rivals beef broth)<br />1c dry lentils, sorted and rinsed<br />1 (15oz) can cannellini beans (or garbanzos, or whatever)<br />1 (14.5oz) can diced tomatoes, undrained<br />1/2 (10oz) pkg frozen spinach, unthawed<br />1/2T dried rosemary<br />1 bay leaf<br />salt and pepper to taste<br /><br />Saute onions and carrots in olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat, until onions are translucent. Stir in garlic and cook for about 30 seconds more. Add remaining ingredients, heat to boiling, then reduce heat and simmer for about 20-25 min with tilted lid.<br /><br />Tastes great with brown rice added in. I like to serve this with a Greek salad, hummus, and pita chips.<br /><br />And finally...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Chicken Nicoise <br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">from the good ol' Betty Crocker cookbook</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />1 1/4 c dry white whine or chicken broth<br />4 boneless skinless chicken breasts<br />3 cloves garlic, finely chopped<br />1/2c frozen small whole onions (not terribly important if you don't have them)<br />1T Italian seasoning<br />1 or 2 bell peppers, sliced<br />6 Kalamata olives, pitted and chopped<br />2c hot cooked rice<br /><br />1. In a 10in skillet, heat 1/4c of the wine to boiling. Cook chicken in wine about 5 min, turning once, until outside of chicken is white.<br />2. Add garlic, onions, seasoning, bell peppers, olives, and remaining one cup of wine to skillet. Heat to boiling, boil 5 min.<br />3. Reduce heat to medium, cook 10-15 min until chicken is cooked thru. Serve on rice.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-72387422435746155522011-12-28T10:12:00.001-08:002011-12-28T11:01:26.097-08:00Be Well in 2012Sorry I've been such a blogging slacker. Sometimes that's just the way it is.<br /><br />I'm sitting here trying to be deathly quiet because I'm waiting for a little boy to go to sleep. I can hear him thumping around his bed and making quiet noises to himself, which is fine with me...but yesterday, instead of going to sleep after his little quiet playtime, he escalated into a full-out assault against his nap. I can probably count on one hand the number of times he's really come unglued that way, but when it happens, it just feels awful.<br /><br />I never wanted to run a tip-toe household, and when he was a little baby that worked. I could vacuum around him, sing at the top of my lungs, and nearly land a plane while he blissfully slept. It's not like I plant myself on the couch now and wait for him to get up, but I do move around the house in stealth mode.<br /><br />So many things I never thought I'd do or say. But actually, there are many things people told me I'd do that I said I'd never do, and I still haven't done them. But they'll come up. Normal ebb and flow, choosing battles and making decisions.<br /><br />Speaking of decisions...how's that list of New Year's resolutions coming?<br /><br />I've decided not to make any resolutions this year; but I have decided one thing...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">I want to BE resolute.</span> Own my decisions. Let my yes be yes and my no be no.<br /><br />This past year I've become more and more this way. Not do things because they should be done, because other people want me to do them. It's come with needing the structure that's inherent with having a little one in the house, with looking well to the ways of my household, with being the gatekeeper of all that begs entrance: what we watch, what we hear, what we do, what we eat.<br /><br />I want us to be <span style="font-style:italic;">well.</span> Overall. Be mindful, simple, and careful. The world can carry us away with what it has to offer - things we can't afford, that suck our time, that sing our souls to complacent sleep.<br /><br />A couple months ago, in my little notebook I started a list with four categories, entitled "<span style="font-style: italic;">Be Well in 2012."</span> Catchy, I know. (Hey man, I can write decently, but creativity is NOT my suit.) They apply more to general household things, not parenting or marriage specifically. Anyway, here goes:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Spiritual</span><br /><br />*Make God's Word a priority (as in, digging into it, continue being involved in Bible studies, work on memorizing it, etc). <a href="http://seedsmusicstore.com/">Here</a> are some CD's I'd really like to get to sow those little seeds into Levi's heart as well.<br />*Actively try to apply Scripture to every circumstance<br />*Continue to make quiet time a priority (a basic rule I've applied is, as soon as Levi goes down for that first nap of the day, it's time for my quiet time with the Lord. No matter what.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Environmental</span><br /><br />Just keep up with all the little changes I've made over the past few years that are better for the overall environment, as well as the little environment that is our home.<br /><br />*Line dry as much as possible. (You ought to see my basement. It's like passing thru a jungle when I have three loads hanging in every possible spot.)<br />*Detox every room as much as possible (as in, switch out products to ones that are 100% natural or homemade)<br />*No hoarding! Make a semi-monthly habit of recycling items, dropping them off at the mission, etc. <span style="font-style: italic;">When it doubt, throw it out...</span>or at least give it away...<br />*Maintain a steady cleaning schedule (this has been the #1 thing this past year that has helped me keep my soup in a group!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Food<br /><br /></span>*Eat as vegetarian as possible. It's cheaper overall and keeps me creative.<br />*No compromise on food/ingredients (<span style="font-style: italic;">in our home, that is. Whatever anyone else feeds us, we gladly and gratefully receive!</span>). That means all organic and/or pastured meat, as much local fare as possible, and non-GMO. Yes, we spend more money on food overall, but we figure we'll either spend it now on healthier food, or later in health care costs. It's going out the door either way.<br />*Cut back on - not eliminate, let's face it... - refined sugars and grains, and find yummy sugar alternatives.<br />Seriously consider cod liver oil* <span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span> (Done!! Started taking it a couple weeks ago and already see a difference in our skin!)<br />Research<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span> coconut oil* (done! We use it in cooking, on our skin, on Levi's diaper rashes...) <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />*westonaprice.org is a good resource if interested in looking them up<br /><br style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Habits</span><br /></span><br />*Make exercise a priority in our family. I'll admit, this is way harder than when my time was almost entirely my own. Exercise has been redefined for me: several climbs up the stairs with an excited toddler who just learned to scale them...pushing a stroller or pulling him in a sled...having a dance party. But just keep moving!<br />*Continue to rise early. I just get more done and am more focused for the day when I get up, make the bed, and throw in a load of laundry before Levi gets up (and he's a very early riser!!!).<br />*Overall, we want to raise Levi (and anyone else who happens to come along, should the Lord see fit!) in a home characterized by having good habits. We'll gladly drop everything to read him a book or play, but we'll also gladly leave him to play alone so we can get something done. We want him to have fun and play, but also want him to see that work (in any form) is a gift and a blessing, and a very important part of life.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What do you resolve for this coming year? How do you want your life or household to look different, or how would you like to "tweak" it? Or do you just want to lose 15lbs and call it good? ;)</span><br style="font-style: italic;"><br style="font-style: italic;">Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-6898927273991002002011-12-06T18:15:00.001-08:002011-12-06T19:22:15.410-08:00No titleThe other day I read a story about an Australian couple, pregnant with twins, who had decided to "selectively reduce" one of the twins because he had a heart defect that would have required multiple surgeries to correct. Well, evidently the procedure didn't exactly go as planned and BOTH babies died. They were 32 weeks. Thirty-two. Weeks. I'm still sitting here puzzled, wondering if anyone else is wondering: at what point did the choice become a tragedy?<br /><br />But that's not what I'm going to write about. <br /><br />Every morning I get up somewhere between 5 and 6, and make the bed as soon as my feet hit the floor. If nothing else is accomplished in my day, at least the bedroom started out in some fashion of order. I turn on the radio and half-listen to a rather mundane super-early morning program called "Haven Today" on Moody Radio. <br /><br />Tuesdays are change-the-sheets days. So I get up, strip the sheets and put clean ones on before I even head to the bathroom. So this morning I do my Tuesday morning routine, flip on Haven Today...and there's a man who is being interviewed who apparently just wrote a book called "Heaven is for Real." Since I caught the middle of the program, I don't know exactly what happened, but evidently this guy's son had something horrible happen at the age of three, and it sounds like he was in some sort of coma or was clinically dead. And after the boy was revived, he started talking about....things his parents had never taught him about heaven. And Jesus. And God. It came out in snippets. He'd be playing in his room, and he'd run out to his parents to blurt out something he had seen, or that Jesus had said to him, during his "time" in heaven.<br /><br />Now I have to cut out here and say that I'm very skeptical about so-called "near death experiences" where people claim to see light and walk through tunnels. It's not that I don't believe them, it's just...I don't know...it was kind of trendy for a while to make such a claim. Among other things. But Moody is very sound and choosy in the material they present on their station. I know they wouldn't just put a quack on there who claims to have seen God in a drug-induced haze. <br /><br />Anyway. So I was kind of intrigued listening to this man talk about his son and the things he had seen. I was enjoying a program that I normally find to be kind of lame.<br /><br />And then the program host said, "...and then he met a certain little girl. Tell us about that."<br /><br />I'm going to have a hard time writing this. <br /><br />One evening, the boy blurted out, "I have another sister." And he ran back to his room.<br /><br />The man's wife stopped cold - what did he say?? They had never told him about a miscarriage they had had years before, at around two months gestation. The parents followed him into his room, telling him you don't just say something like that to your mom and then leave the room.<br /><br />"I have another sister. She looks a lot like Cassie (their other child)." And he went on to describe how she looked, how tall she was, and things she had said to him. She was so excited to see someone from her family.<br /><br />"But she already has a family there, because He adopted her," the little boy told his dad.<br /><br />You mean Jesus adopted her?, his father clarified...<br /><br />"No. His Dad did."<br /><br />God adopted his tiny sister into his family of children - that I love to imagine at times - playing around His throne.<br /><br />I had started to lose it when he started the story about "I have another sister." By this point, I was face-down and sobbing on my bed.<br /><br />I still miss Levi's sister. I know Glory Baby was a "she" and most anyone who's lost a baby before you even have a chance to wrap your mind around it will tell you they know the baby's gender in their heart. It's not like I think about it all the time or dwell on it or anything like that. It's just that at this time of year - the week that it all started to unravel - the loss is just that much more apparent. I love my little boy to pieces. But I loved that baby too. And I find myself just weighted with uncharacteristic sorrow - but then I look at the calendar and think, "Is it already that time again?"<br /><br />I feel stupid that I still grieve one loss, one early-pregnancy miscarriage, when so many other people have lost so much more. But grief is grief, no matter what he wears when he waltzes into your home unbidden and unwelcome. Whether it's the death of a child, a relationship, a dream...it leaves a wound that eventually heals but is still blaringly obvious to the one who bears it.<br /><br />After sobbing again on my basement floor (surrounded by laundry, mind you),I went for a walk this afternoon just to do anything to shake the fog that insisted on following me all the livelong day. I began thanking the Lord for anything I could think for which to be thankful. And then I began, instead of dwelling on my loss, to pray for an armload of people I know right now who would give anything to have a child. Who would give anything to be pushing a bundled-up little boy in an over-sized jogger on a cold afternoon. People I know and love who never thought Grief would show up at their door and muscle his way in. Who never once imagined that this was a road they'd have to walk.<br /><br />So you know who you are. I prayed for you today. I prayed you'd be comforted to know that your child is adopted by the Creator Himself. I prayed the desire of your heart would be answered and your womb would open to receive and nurture life. I prayed for you by name. <br /><br />And I came home feeling revived. We ARE loved by a mighty God.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-84745252219782169222011-11-08T17:21:00.000-08:002011-11-08T18:16:05.059-08:00Mundane post #4Wow, now that I have to write only about mundane things, I have a lot more to say!!! Huh.<br /><br />A couple years ago I went to a nursing conference in Phoenix with one of my friends from work. Every night as we relaxed in our hotel room we cracked up at the number of times this commercial came on for Pillow Pets. I can still sing the jingle. After three nights of listening to the Pillow Pets jingle and seeing the rapturous joy the Pillow Pets apparently impart (how's that for subtle alliteration), I was duly convinced that I needed one myself. I'm sure you've seen them. They're these stuffed animals who, when folded, have "legs" and when you unvelcro the "legs" - voila!! - they become a soft little pillow!!<br /><br />Anyway, I bought Levi a giraffe Pillow Pet for Christmas. It's actually a Pillow Pet Pee-Wee - so a smaller version of one. It will fit perfectly in his mini crib. <span style="font-style: italic;">In our mini house</span>. Anyway, I showed it to him when I found it at Meijer and he wanted to snuggle it (he coos and buries his face in stuffed animals), so we had a winner. And sadly, we won't wait till Christmas to give it to him. He's too little to know the difference, so he may as well enjoy it.<br /><br />Well guess who's snuggling with the Pillow Pet now? Me. I really don't want to give it up. It's really, really, really soft and cozy. And to think that Nancy and I laughed and scoffed at the Pillow Pet commercial two years ago.<br /><br />+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Anyway</span>, about a month ago I had written in my little spiral notebook of randomness (prayers, thoughts, Bible verses, Bible study notes), <span style="font-style: italic;">What are my priorities and what is my purpose for today??</span> One thing that's really been challenging me over the past year is that tension - and I mean <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">tension</span> - of what's important, in what areas should we serve, in what places do we need to step down, how much is too much, how little is too little...and what it always comes down to for me is Proverbs 31:27 - <span style="font-style: italic;">How does this fit into looking well to the ways of my household?</span><br /><br />One paradox of working in the Special Care Nursery at work is, from those who look in from the outside (proverbially, though we do have windows and people DO peer in from the outside), it often looks like we're doing nothing. From their point of view, we're sitting at our computers, actually DOING something with the baby every few hours, and then going back to our computers. What I always tell nursing students is that one of the best nursing interventions is to leave. the baby. <span style="font-style: italic;">alone</span>. That is how a preemie is allowed to grow and develop. Me fussing with them to be busy and feel like I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">doing</span> something is actually detrimental to the very person I'm trying to serve.<br /><br />It applies at home too. The more Matt and I <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span>, the busier we are, the more <span style="font-style: italic;">stuff</span> we're involved in and the more we say 'yes' to people...the more our home suffers. There are weeks that we just spin...it happens about once a month or every other month...and then I get frustrated and shut the household down. It looks like we're doing nothing - the calendar squares are fairly empty, and saying no to people makes me feel guilty and silly, but in doing nothing we're doing something very significant, something that prompted us to make the decision to cut back my hours at work, to serve this very purpose: to allow the best environment for Levi to grow and develop and thrive. To keep a consistent nap routine. To follow his own quiet (or <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> so quiet at times) rhythm. It might seem a bit much but we have one little lamb and we're guarding the gate.<br /><br />But still, guilt creeps in, and I have to keep reminding myself what our priorities are and what they're supposed to be...and what IS looking well to the way of my household? So I have to turn back to my page in my journal from a month ago and refresh:<br /><br />1. To serve and glorify God, and tend to my relationship with Him. I NEED to carve out that time in the day - right when Levi goes down for his first nap, before I dive into housework.<br /><br />2. To serve my husband and tend to my relationship with him. Whether or not Levi recites his letters or knows his colors before the other kids isn't the point; he needs to grow in a stable home where the marriage is a priority.<br /><br />3. To serve Levi. Play with him, feed him, teach him, sing to him, read to him, provide structure and rest. He CAN play alone too. Teaching him to play alone and not need my constant attention is important too!!<br /><br />4. Take care of my home. Things are washed, food is prepared, and things are reasonably in order and welcoming.<br /><br />5. Tend to others. Encourage and serve them. But they cannot come before the other 3-4 things!<br /><br />It looks easy on paper but is so hard to apply when you feel like it's better to do-do-do.<br /><br />But sometimes NOT doing is what we SHOULD be doing. <br /><br />It's still such a tension though, isn't it???Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-40554722822318428982011-11-07T07:28:00.000-08:002011-11-07T07:51:35.340-08:00Weary of doing goodLevi developed a plan recently that serves zero purpose to either of us:<br /><br />A 45-minute morning nap.<br /><br />I really try to make it a discipline to do my quiet time/work on my Bible study as soon as he goes down for the morning. No. Matter. What. I need at least an hour so I can do that AND get some housework done, take a shower, or whatever.<br /><br />But this 45 minute nonsense doesn't exactly work wonders for me. Mama needs an hour.<br /><br />Levi wasn't pleased with my method to reinforce this today. But I can tell from the moment my baby gets up if his nap was as much as he needed, or if he simply woke up in the middle of a sleep cycle and thought it was simply time to get up. I knew that if I went into his room his eyes would be glazed and nearly rolling into the back of his head, but he would be just certain it was time to get up. And then he'd be crabby for the next few hours, I would be frustrated, and then he'd be so overtired that his afternoon nap would go similarly. And then the terrible attitude would roll into dinnertime. <br /><br />So I let him stay in his bed. I know he was mad. I knew the exact moments that he flung his giraffe and three pacifiers over the railing so he'd have something about which to be even MORE mad. After fifteen minutes, I went in and collected his things, gave them back, saw the glazed and rolling eyes, and told him he needed more sleep and laid him back down.<br /><br />Then, he was REALLY mad.<br /><br />And then he....fell asleep.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />When Levi turned one a week ago, I swear a toddler-tantrum switch was flicked onto "on" and I am desperately looking for the "reset" button...to no avail. Life is frustrating for him right now - he can't talk, is on the verge of walking, and is cutting six teeth. So you can't communicate (yes, I do signs with him but it's slow in being reciprocated), can't move like you want, and are in pain. Honestly, I'd be mad too.<br /><br />Galatians 6:9 has become my big-cheese verse lately. I think it'll be my life verse for the next two decades:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>I can't tell you how many times a day now that I have to tell this to myself. It's so much easier to give in and give him the food off my plate, to get him up even though I know he needs more sleep, to pick him up and carry him with me e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e to avoid the whining. But I will reap later what I sow even now. If I'm in the habit of giving in now, I'll continue that habit. I can't take the easy road.<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">*Now please don't think I'm a tyrant mom. I do feel like one sometimes! But it's not like I expect him to behave like a five-year-old boy. We just try to keep boundaries and structure in our home. But there are some days when you just have to let the house blow up around you because a little boy just needs to be cuddled and comforted and rocked and read to.</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span>But how much does that verse just apply anywhere in life? In trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle, hitting recurring issues head-on, working on a marriage relationship, parenting....<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...don't become weary of doing the right thing. Because you WILL reap a harvest.</span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> Don't. Grow. Weary.<br /></span>Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-88486702545685769502011-11-04T10:58:00.000-07:002011-11-04T11:13:37.826-07:00Mundane post #3Are you tired of mundane posts yet????<br /><br />My heart is so incredibly burdened right now over a number of things - people who are very close to me - and either I will implode, or I will write another mundane post.<br /><br />So the other day my gaze swept across our landscape (all 1/4 acre of it) and I hearkened back to last year right at this time - well, days before I had Levi - and thought, "This yard will NOT get raked this year."<br /><br />And sure enough, it didn't.<br /><br />So this week I thought to myself, "Self, you need take thine backside out and rake."<br /><br />But I did NOT have time. And I was trying to figure out WHEN I (or Matt) would have time, and as I counted ahead for the next several days, it was becoming clear that the leaves may stay right where they are.<br /><br />A few hours later, there was a knock at the door.<br /><br />Two kids, clearly a brother and sister, probably about 10 and 12 years old, stood on my front porch with <span style="font-style: italic;">RAKES.</span><br /><br />RAKES, I say.<br /><br />At first I almost didn't answer the door because I was in an enormous hurry to get to something, and I had no time for underage Jehovah's Witnesses, scouts selling more popcorn, or whomever. But then I saw their rakes. And I answered the door.<br /><br />"We're, um, raking yards to raise money for <span style="font-style: italic;">(this is where I'm waiting to hear a spiel about a mission trip, orphanage in Africa, local school or food pantry)</span> a ferret."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">A ferret?</span><br /><br />"Do you want us to rake your yard??"<br /><br />At that moment, I pictured myself standing in front of a blue-eyed, blond-haired little boy in about ten years, my eyes closed, pinching the bridge of my nose, saying, "If you can come up with a way to pay for <span style="font-style: italic;">(whatever it is that I would rather die than have in my house but this is a great learning opportunity about responsibility)</span>, you can get it." And then hoping against all hopes that no one will turn my little blue-eyed blond down as he goes door-to-door with a rake.<br /><br />My other thought was,<span style="font-style: italic;"> Does a bear poop in the woods? Heck YES you can rake my yard!</span><br /><br />I asked what they were charging. The 10-year-old boy cast an entrepreneurial eye around our front yard and said, "Seven dollars?"<br /><br />Me:<span style="font-weight: bold;"> TEN! </span> Do you take a check?<br /><br />And then this kid and his sister raked. our yard. And they totally spanked it. Like, there was not a leaf in sight. Granted, the yard's covered in leaves again two days later, but it's better than it would be. And some kids are gonna get their ferret. <br /><br />So there you have it. Another slice of a mildly mundane life.Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-13600295011490201132011-10-28T12:20:00.000-07:002011-10-28T12:49:33.009-07:00Mundane post #2Nothing emotionally and physically exhausts me more than hearing my baby cry. Days like this come so rarely and I count the minutes till Matt gets home...and I can't imagine what it's like to be a single parent, or have a kid with issues that make them scream all day.<br /><br />I think the combination of him teething and getting a new cold now just push him over the edge. Germs come in without knocking, I've noticed. They brazenly enter unannounced with their muddy shoes on and expect me to clean up after them. We wash our hands meticulously, he's getting breastmilk, we don't go out-out that much, he's not in daycare, and has hardly been in the church nursery in the past few weeks. I never wanted to be that mom with the kid who has a glazed donut for an upper lip, and here I am. Chasing after a toddler with a piece of Kleenex.<br /><br />And over and over to myself I say, <span style="font-style: italic;">This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.</span><br /><br />There are days that I want to be doing something really spectacular. Thinking smart thoughts about smart things among smart people. Make no mistake, chasing a giddy baby around the house with a string-pulled tooty train (thank you so much Kelly!!!!) is where I'd rather be than anywhere else...but it's easy for discouragement to creep in. I know what I'm doing serves such a great purpose - just providing Levi with consistency and routine and security and comfort is exactly what he needs to grow and thrive. I know I'm sowing little seeds of purpose and Truth into his little heart.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But when he's cutting six teeth at once and has a runny nose and a raw bottom and is sobbing in his crib...I kinda want to join him.</span><br /><br />The other day I went to a friend's house for tea with another friend. We've been planning this day for the past couple of months, just a chance to see each other since I never see them at work anymore. These friends aren't old enough to be my mom (well, technically they could be; they would have been teenagers, and that's not so unusual anymore, let me tell you), so I guess I'll say that they're like my big sisters. So we planned to have tea, and I have to leave them unnamed and the pictures to myself because one of them is quite interested in protecting her professional image (<span style="font-style: italic;">guffaw</span>). Why, you ask? Because one of them (the <span style="font-style: italic;">professional </span>one, mind you - <span style="font-style: italic;">I know you're reading this, friend</span>) calls me like five minutes before I leave the house to pick her up to tell me I needed to come <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">RIGHT NOW</span> because she had an idea. So I throw Levi in his car seat and leave without even putting on my shoes. Upon my arrival at her house, my <span style="font-style: italic;">professional friend </span>greets me at the door dressed in what I can only describe as a dress that once was a flamingo. She pulls me up the stairs, grabs my bewildered baby, and shows me MY dress: a sparkly blue number with a tiered ruffled black skirt. Had I been able to pull my hair in a side ponytail, I would've been a spittin' image of Deb from <span style="font-style: italic;">Napolean Dynamite.</span> With hot pink knee-high tights (<span style="font-style: italic;">why did she have these in her drawer</span>?). Alarmingly, the dress fit.<br /><br />And that is how we showed up at tea. Not to be outdone, my other friend ran upstairs to put on a leopard-print dress over her running tights. We had a dance party to Toby Mac (my poor bewildered Levi clutched his stuffed giraffe) before dining on donuts, cookies, Cheetos...and, of course, <span style="font-style: italic;">tea.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7f7vbWkqu3hwAkHHuTg3rdu5EIyrMPzxeGD9PcepbvYZbipwqwz9kGrnxj4sBpjM6XOXXrRRKOS4z9054qjbmG__fvzk_XSsKdv5w2TGb73rOtvkLuX2DZ3nvgKGtPMhbWqD-bz3kQ00/s1600/IMG_4186.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7f7vbWkqu3hwAkHHuTg3rdu5EIyrMPzxeGD9PcepbvYZbipwqwz9kGrnxj4sBpjM6XOXXrRRKOS4z9054qjbmG__fvzk_XSsKdv5w2TGb73rOtvkLuX2DZ3nvgKGtPMhbWqD-bz3kQ00/s320/IMG_4186.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668631010144799122" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Our lovely tea party spread</span><br /></div><br />I would love to show you the picture I have of the three of us, but sure don't want to wreck our very, <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> professional image. ;) I'll just let you wonder exactly who it is that is so much fun.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But it's good to have big sisters like that.</span><br /><br />I guess things aren't so mundane after all. :)Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-33601240045188156412011-10-21T12:39:00.001-07:002011-10-21T13:07:26.313-07:00Mundane post #1I know he's barely one year old, but he can totally level me.<br /><br />It's been gray this week. Rainy. And we've been....icky sick. He's been cutting what I thought were four upper teeth, but upon closer inspection it almost looks more like maybe six. I think he's in a growth spurt. And he's trying to learn how to walk.<br /><br />That's a lot for one 20lb person and a tired, stir-crazy mama.<br /><br />This morning he came undone. He took a sad little one-hour nap and I barely had a chance to get in some quiet time and start something in the crock pot for the weekend (<span style="font-style: italic;">working! shuttle launch!</span>). And I mean, barely start cutting the stuff up to put in the crock pot. He's been clingy this week, and not that I really blame him. So of course he was in no mood to play by himself while I put together a meal. I set him up in his high chair with a snack and his sippy. He took two bites and started to yell at me again. A little blond 20lb dictator. He spilled his milk down his shirt. The milk I struggle to produce anymore. Still yelling, spitting out his food. Oh my word. In my mind I'm yelling <span style="font-style: italic;">SHUUUUTTTT UPPPPP!!!!!</span> But I sing hymns instead because that seems a little kinder. But I still feel like a louse because I really want to tell my poor baby to, well, shut up.<br /><br />I really wanted to call my friend. She beat me to it. Her morning was even more award-winning (zero thanks to the GI bug we shared with her kid). Misery really does love company, because I admit my spirits lifted. She also reminded me that Levi's teething. <span style="font-style: italic;"></span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh yeah.</span> I hold him, the phone, and draw up some ibuprofen and squirt it in his mouth with one hand, and he happily receives it. Thirty minutes later he's a new kid.<br /><br />Usually naps are fairly smooth around her, but not so much today. He sobbed - deep, gulping sobs - like I had locked him in a dungeon (<span style="font-style: italic;">with four pacifiers, his giraffe and three beanie babies</span>) and thrown away the key. Thrice I pulled him out to comfort him and thrice I returned him, and thrice he came unglued.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What happened to my easy baby???</span> I know this is nothing compared to some people's normal day, but Levi is not this...this...clingy, fussy, or any other form of -y.<br /><br />He slept thirty minutes and it all started again.<br /><br />I fed him his bottle. He gulped it like it was going to grow legs and walk away.<br /><br />And then, for the first time since he was about four months old, he turned to me and plopped his head on my chest and laid there, eyes wide open and quiet, for about fifteen minutes. I rocked my baby - <span style="font-style: italic;">no, my little boy, now</span> - in the quiet of (another) gray day. Did you hear that? It was the world righting itself again. All he needed was something for pain, something in his tummy, and his mama to rock him for a few minutes.<br /><br />Then he pulled himself up, looked me square in the face, grinned, and slid off my lap. And that was that.<br /><br />He's been more himself than he has in the past week ever since. He chowed down three quarters of a banana (yes, on the heels of an enormo bottle) while I ate my (very late) lunch, and then we walked around the neighborhood and waved at cars.<br /><br />And now he's back down for a nap. No fanfare, no drama, no to-do.<br /><br />The stew's in the crock pot. The diapers are washed and folded. Levi's veggies are steamed.<br /><br />The preparations are almost complete for takeoff.<br /><br />I don't know what just happened, but apparently Levi feels better and that's all I care about. :)Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-268508937139711346.post-90649884595715804932011-10-20T16:35:00.001-07:002011-10-20T17:33:13.859-07:00Profound? Or profundly mundane?I have no idea what I'm going to write. But I'm sitting alone in a busy coffee shop and it's way too cliche...I absolutely *need* to write something.<br /><br />I don't blog very often in part because I feel like I should have something terribly profound to say. And lately...well...right now I can rattle off forward and backwards the order of the animals in <span style="font-style: italic;">"Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?"</span> Unless you're in the learning-colors-and-animals set, substance is lacking. Anyway, I really enjoy reading the "mundane" things that other people write on their blogs. I just like knowing the little day-to-day things. So maybe you do too?<br /><br />So I made the mildly catastrophic mistake of blinking, evidently. About two days ago I was holding a newborn and singing him Christmas carols late into the night. He's not walking yet but he just this evening started walking while holding onto one of our hands. Not both hands, but one hand. Side-by-side. I followed him and Matt on this new venture tonight while they were heading into his room to get ready for bath time. Daddy and little boy hand-in-hand, side-by-side.<br /><br />A few months after he was born I was commonly asked what surprised me most about being a new mom. My first answer? <span style="font-style: italic;">Guilt.</span> Not sleepless nights, not how much they cost, not how fast they grow. Guilt. How on earth is it that from the moment we see the two lines on the pregnancy test, we feel that we can be personally held responsible for just about everything that could potentially go wrong?<br /><br />Second answer: judgment. I'm profoundly astounded at the judgment that moms pass on one another. I'm right in the throng with them, so let me be clear that no matter how hard I try to convince myself I'm not nearly as judgmental as the rest, I am. Perhaps moms have always been judgmental of how others' parenting styles are somehow inferior to their own, but with the buzzing and ongoing conversation of Facebook, Twitter, and blogs (<span style="font-style: italic;">mommy blogs</span>, oh my), it seems a little more in-your-face than I imagine it was in previous years. People can now loudly state their opinion in the form of "shared" articles and posts about sleep methods, feeding, immunizations, discipline, and whatever else can possibly come up in the world of parenting. And I think,<span style="font-style: italic;"> yikes man.</span> Please don't tell anyone that our baby sleeps in his own crib, in his own room (heck, <span style="font-style: italic;">downstairs</span> from our room), I've pumped for nearly a year now but only given him breastmilk in a bottle, sometimes we let him cry it out (<span style="font-style: italic;">within reason</span>, I feel I should clarify), and he gets his shots. All of them. On a traditional schedule. We've never worn him or co-bedded with him, and I'm probably not the gentlest mom on the block. (I'm not here to dog those things, I'm just saying that's not what we choose to do.)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But we seek to be a student of his heart every day.</span> And I beg God to fill in the spots where I lack. And to help us pour Truth into him.<br /><br />Anyway, moving on. We were sick this week. For Levi, I tried to pass several things off as teething. When I started having the same symptoms, I was pretty certain I was <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> teething as well. Matt left on Tuesday morning with my assurance that Levi and I would lie as low as possible for the day, but he need not worry about us. Fast forward, oh, five minutes, and Levi's looking at me with mild alarm while I grip the counter with nausea (<span style="font-style: italic;">stop thinking what I know you're thinking, because that's unquestionably NOT what it was!</span>). And then his banana made an encore appearance. Yeah no, this was not going to go well today. A couple of episodes later, Matt texted, "Are you sure you don't want me to come home?" He was in the parking garage in Grand Rapids. I caved. He came home. My hero!! Later, he said, "Man, it's<span style="font-style: italic;"> scary</span> when you get sick." I get it. The universe pretty much tips on its axis when Mama is sick.<br /><br />But we're better now and the Gouveia universe is back in order - and it's well sanitized.<br /><br />We had a birthday party for Levi a couple weeks ago (though his birthday isn't till next week). He slept through half of it. I'll post pics soon!!<br /><br />Well, there's the semi-mundane for you!! I have now slurped the last few drops of my latte smoothie, pretending to blend in with the college students and not look too 30-something-married-mom-ish, <span style="font-style: italic;">but probably my hundred-year-old refurb laptop is the first dead giveaway. </span>I'll try to be more consistent with blogging the profound AND the mundane. Because even mundane life is profound. Or profoundly mundane? Whatever the case may be, it's life and I should share it more. :)Jennyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818590305353265983noreply@blogger.com0