Leaving Oz

Halloween Aftermath

The week after we went trick or treating, I noticed Rex was a bit off.  He was more fragile, whinier, touchier, and hadn't eaten more than two bites of any meal.  Yes, he went trick or treating.  Yes, we allow the kids to take one or two candies from the bag during the day.  No, we don't lock the bags up or store them in high places where they can't be reached.  The cute felt bags which their grandmother had given them this year were in full view and very accessible in our kitchen. 

I felt the honor code was working well.  They asked me if they could have a treat, and I would either say yes or no.  Accordingly, they would eat or not eat.  At least, that is what I thought...

My Son Broke My Mom's Nose

Our much anticipated visit to my parents' home at the end of September was fraught with one challenge after another.  About ten days before I was to leave for Ohio, I had arguably the biggest fight with my mom that I've had since living outside of her house.  Raised voices, locked doors, hanging up on one another... it was bad.  I almost cancelled the trip, but I knew that would be a mistake made in the heat of my emotion. 

Then, after my mother and I reconciled which was a small miracle (thank you, Lord!), the power went out in my parents' home for seven days.  Every day, I would call, as the date for our departure drew nearer, and ask, "Is it on yet?" 

And she would reply, "Not yet.  Maybe tomorrow." 

Love Notes

Every so often, I will wander over to my bed at the end of a too-long day and wonder if anything at all worthwhile got accomplished in the last 20 hours.  Then I will find a colorful pencil drawing with a note on my pillow telling me I am loved. The kids get so excited about these notes and will often tell me as soon as they have delivered their missive onto the bed.  But even though I have been forewarned, I am still pleasantly surprised to find the letter, and sit contentedly on the side of my bed to examine the child's drawing and read the caring message.

One such evening, I found not one but two love letters, and decided to write them back.  Shocking that that thought never crossed my mind before.  The kids were playing with their Papa, and so I had time to scribble out a few lines to each of my four children and place the notes on their pillows before they went to bed.  I waited in eager anticipation for them to discover the little slips of paper.

Why Should We Ever Doubt That God is in Control?

Last week, my almost two-year-old son broke out in hives. First it was a small blotchy looking thing on his face which went away pretty quickly. I was hoping that was the end of it. But it wasn’t.

So, being the first-time and semi-over anxious mom that I am, I called our doctor’s office. Was it an allergic reaction to something he ate? Would it get worse? Should I give him Benadryl? What do I need to watch out for? Ohhhh the questions I had running through my mind.

Before I go any further, let me take a step back. Before I had my BL, I was pretty easy going in terms of health issues. Nothing really ever bothered me. Every little ache or pain always seemed to resolve itself on its own.

Feeling Welcome With Kids

This past weekend we were invited to a wedding for an old colleague of my husbands. Actually, Rob was in the wedding and the whole family was invited. There was a time in our lives about ten or eleven years ago where our summer was almost entirely booked with weddings. Then there was a period a few years after that where we were flooded with baby showers. Now, we tend to be swamped with little kid birthday parties, and weddings are a rare event in our lives. Neither of our kids, ages 3 and 6, had ever been to one so they were mildly curious. I, on the other hand, I simply felt dread as the day approached.      

Here's what I saw looming ahead... an intimate wedding at a private estate in Santa Rosa with two little kids who couldn't sit still through dinner, much less a Greek orthodox wedding ceremony, complete with crowns, chanting, communion and a forecast for temperatures in the 90's. Plus, there was the fact that Rob would be in the wedding party, which meant he wouldn't be much help, and as an added bonus he was going to be reunited with a bunch of his old friends that he hadn't seen in years. Just how many people was I going to know at this exciting event? Oh, about two- the groom and one of the other groomsmen -  a lot of good that'd do me.  I was determined to be a trooper, though. I knew that Rob was really excited, and I didn't want to rain on his parade so off we went.

Summer Breeze Makes Me Feel...Crazy!

I’ve been marveling lately at the inverse relationship between childhood bliss and parental labor. That’s because it’s June, which is the second busiest time of year for moms of school-age kids, next to December. (OK, so the start of the school year is pretty crazy too; you’ll probably be hearing about that in September!).

When I was a kid, school ended and summer began. There was nothing ceremonious about school ending, just the pure joy of it. Same with summer. Summertime meant sleeping in, playing outside, swimming, more time with friends, the occasional family vacation, and that was about it. It was heaven—except for those days that sometimes dragged on, where I’d tail my mom all day whining that I was bored.

But fast forward to 2008 and WHATTHEHECK? The end of the school year means multiple parties for every class and every sports team the kids are involved in. Once, on a single day, I had to bring food or drink to four different events in four different locations.

A Slice of Childhood Pie

When the girls were in their preschool years (I should say, pre-soccer years), we used to spend a lot of time in our back and front yards. I did my share of gardening back then - not as much as I would have liked, but I tried. I would have the girls with me when I'm outside. I bought them their own set of gloves, and they'd help me out. Well, sort of. I use the word "help" very loosely here. They'd stay with me for 15 minutes or so, then they'd just saunter off and do their own thing. One of their most favorite things to do was play with snails. They'd collect them and have imaginary families in no time.

As they got older, soccer took over our weekends, and we hardly ever got to just stay home, let alone spend time in the yard.

Well, after a long reprieve, I found myself doing yard work this morning. I volunteered (or was I volunteered? Minor little detail...) to help with decorating the stage for graduation. Renting plants just was not cost-efficient, so I ended up buying a bunch of low-growing perennial plants to use for the stage, with the thought that - hey, this is a good opportunity to get the yard going again!

After the Last Child, It’s Time For a Puppy…Or Two

When my kids were very young, the thought of having to keep one more thing alive made me cringe.  Our garden died.  Any plant that was given to me as a gift died.   If it weren’t for my husband and the gardening service, the lawn would have died too.  I could barely take time to go to the bathroom when I needed to, so there was absolutely no way that anything that could be considered a “pet” was going to enter this home.  Ever. 

Until my youngest son turned 6.  My baby, who had been previously happy to cuddle and hug, was growing up.  I’d have to catch him as he ran by for a quick hug and often I’d end up hugging his back as he’d be ready to run away, off to the next thing. So it was around that time I was struck with this idea:  I had to have a puppy. I just had to.  It consumed my every waking thought.  A soft, wonderful, fluffy puppy, like the one I used to have when I was a little girl. 

I know most kids go through an “I want a pet” phase, but I had been so adamant and belligerent about “no more living things in the house” that my kids actually gave up.  I knew that there was no way they would take care of a pet once the excitement wore off, no matter how much they claimed they would be responsible for it.  They knew Mom was impervious. So what the heck happened?   Hormones.  It was a completely illogical, hormonally driven desire and decision.  It is the only reasonable explanation.  I even came across an article in Prevention Magazine about how many women feel calmer and more peaceful when they are nurturing – it gets the hormone oxytocin flowing and pretty soon, we are in the zone.

So why not consider having a third child?