Thursday~November 12, 2009


I need to rake




















I need to put away the clothes sitting outside Miles' room





























I need to clean off the table and refill the fruit bowl and do dishes





















I don't even really know what I need to do about this




















I need to shower and clean the mirror and throw out that old and very stained towel




























But I think I'll just get dressed and take the boys to the play place at the community center to get their wiggles out. Because that's what they need.



This post is a part of You Capture: Real Life over at I Should Be Folding Laundry.


P.S. Because I've been over-posting lately (I don't know what the deal is with that? Maybe how I handle moving stress? Procrastination? Could be?) you may have missed my last post with pictures of Asher in his second pair of glasses. You can see them by clicking HERE. If you want.

• Category:

photos

• Category:

The Noggin

Wednesday~November 11, 2009


I opened an email the other day to see THIS:


It was terrifying.

You see, I had 777 followers on Twitter and I was thinking that was a really great place to stay. Just look at that beautiful number - 777 - it's perfection, so safe and strong. But the person who sent me that picture above thought it necessary to sabotage my Twitter number happiness, and sent out many tweets asking people to follow me, therefore increasing that number and changing it.

Rude.

(Okay, fine. I had done the same thing to him in the past.)

(Hence the terrifying Mel Gibson Payback photo above.)

I'm sharing this with you for a few reasons. If you read my post a couple of days ago, you're aware that I wasn't having the best day. So the truth is, I needed the silly Twitter banter to cheer me up. That's one of the beauties of social media, I think, connections at just the right moment. Don't get me wrong, I don't think it can replace face-to-face relationship and communication, but it sure can provide an avenue for the small connections a person sometimes really needs throughout a long day. Let's face it, people are living more isolated and independent lives than ever before. Maybe that's why we love facebook, blogging, tweeting, and texting so much. It's connection.

As MckMama waited alone during Stellan's surgery the other day in a city far from family and friends, she tweeted about receiving texts and tweets, and how much they were helping her, from real life friends and not. The support was like a buoy, I'm sure. I know because I felt it during my Asher's (less risky) surgery last year. People I knew and didn't know reached out and said they were there for us largely because of this avenue of communication that some look down on. There was absolutely no way to feel like no one cared, no way to feel alone, just our family struggling through. Instead, I constantly felt the whispered prayers and well wishes for my boy, and it was good.

Blogging and even Twitter have brought a whole lot of people into my life that I never would have met in any other way. These are people who inspire me and make me laugh, tell good stories and truly care. It's good stuff.

The Twitter rivalry the other day took place between myself and Mr. Mother Letter Project. He and his absolutely lovely in every way wife Amber are an inspiration to me. They are the kind of people that don't just talk about caring for the world around them, they live it. Thankfully they have the Internet to spread the word when something beautiful and good is up their sleeves. Their latest inspiring project is going to be revealed very soon, and I'm so excited to be a part of it. I'll be telling you more about that in the weeks to come.

There are so many people doing amazing things they wouldn't have been able to do without the world wide interweb, and I love watching beautiful things unfold here, things that bring help to people who need it.

And really, a Mel Gibson Payback poster in my inbox, making me laugh when I hadn't laughed all day, that's just the icing on the cake.

• Category:

The best word for this 2 disc DVD/CD combo is fun. If you like to rock out with your kids, The Jimmies are for you. (OK and maybe I was sold the moment I opened the package and found a whoopie cushion, but I'm not saying.)

This band definitely has their own unique kind of sound and silliness, the kind that won't drive the grown-up involved in the listening absolutely crazy, but will possibly bring said adult back to the 80's with it's rockin' guitar riffs.

The DVD is full of truly well done music videos, and the CD has you listening to a live concert with a whole lot of hilarious audience participation. This is the perfect DVD/CD for the tiniest of kids, who will enjoy the silly lyrics. It's also perfect for kids who may be starting to grow out of children's music because the style is definitely cool enough for them. I myself kind of want to be like lead singer, Ashley. She's a funky kind of cool, while still having enough endearing quirkiness for kids to fall in love with her.

You can take a listen and learn more about this ecclectic group by visiting The Jimmies official website. They are truly an original, hilarious, and creative group of people...





The Jimmies CD/DVD combo is available HERE and HERE OR NOW EVEN HERE!



The Jimmies Trying Funny Stuff is definitely the perfect gift idea.

We love it here at our house so much that Miles would even like me to tell you that his favorite song is the "crazy hair one." You can see why:


(I did receive this CD/DVD for free, but I was not compensated for writing this review. The End.)

• Category:

giveaway, review

Monday~November 9, 2009

How can there be no time to cry?

We rushed out the door this morning so our house could be inspected. I drove around with Asher and with the dog climbing all over and her smell climbing all over and went to my Aunt's house. Asher climbed all over her stairs and he can't do stairs because he can't see well without his broken glasses but he just would not stop with the stairs so we left.

We were just in limbo with nothing to do.

We went to get groceries, and I thought about how frustrating it is that we put an offer on a house on Friday night and we still haven't heard anything. Then I bought milk and meat which wasn't that smart because I couldn't put the milk and meat in the fridge because we couldn't go home because of the inspection. I wanted to cry because of Stellan and his heart not working and for all the other kinds of limbo in life that are sometimes too much so you can't breathe, but I was at the grocery store and I hate when I public-cry.

We brought the groceries to the neighbor's house for them to wait in a fridge and I went to get Miles from school, leaving Asher at the neighbor's. I drove past my own house with three strange cars in front of it and strangers in it spending a lot of time and I felt weird.

I wanted to cry about Stellan and the strange things you feel when someone who will be the mom in your house is in it and you don't know her. I wanted to walk in my house like normal but mostly just to tell her that the front room gets the coldest in the winter so maybe they shouldn't use it as her son's bedroom. I wanted to tell her that.

I stopped myself from crying again because I didn't want to look like that crazy mom picking up her son from preschool, all puffy and red in public.

The inspection took nearly an hour longer than it was supposed to so we got home from the neighbor's at nap time but missed lunch so I tried to feed the boys left-overs and they said this is gross and so I said fine be hungry during your nap. Then Asher ran away when I came with a diaper and Miles yelled NO about nap and I thought I might yell too but I bit my lip and fought the tears because I already cried in the morning when we woke up.

I cried when my boys sat with me on the crumply bed while the sun came up and we prayed for Stellan. I answered hard questions and cried because I'm scared for Stellan and I want to hug his Mom. I cried because I'm not sure how to answer the questions. Miles asked over and over if we could go see Baby Stellan in the hospital because he doesn't understand. He also wanted me to email the doctor and tell him to give Stellan a balloon. It starts young, this wanting to fix things. But we were in limbo with nothing to do. But pray. So we did.

I put them down for their naps after a lunch they didn't eat and now I can cry. It's just welling up and spilling over, this pain I feel for my friend and her boy. I can't stand it. So much limbo with nothing to do but blog and pray.

UPDATE:
7:00pm

-Stellan just came out of surgery and it was SUCCESSFUL, you can read about that on his Mama's blog if you'd like.

-We finally received a response to our offer this afternoon, responded, and therefore bought our new home. We're good to go, my friends. We're officially moving at the end of December. (well, OK...pending inspection.) Holy wow.

-Thank you all for your encouraging comments, phone calls, and emails. Really. Thank you. What a difference a few hours and MUCH support can make.

• Category:

moving house, Stellan

Sunday~November 8, 2009


I've never been able to keep a plant alive.

It's not that I forget about the plant, ignore it, leaving it thirsty. It's more like I over think it, water it too often, and prune it too much.

I'm a recovering control freak.

I thought about this today as I (conservatively) pruned a plant of ours that's been living a record amount of time in my care. This plant was given to me after my Grandpa died, and I was afraid from the start that I'd kill it. The difference this time is that I'm being less careful. I'm holding back when I start to worry if I'm doing it just right. Should I water it again, does it seem droopy, the edges of the leaves are getting a little brown, maybe I should move it....

No, I say to myself. It's fine, it'll be fine. I've simply been letting it live, even when a little brown colors the corners of it's leaves.



Quite a metaphor for life, I think. I so often want to panic or jump ahead or fix things before they need fixing. In motherhood, I'm probably a bit hyper-vigilant, calling the doctor before I really even know if there's a problem, or discussing what to do about this or that endlessly with my husband. Like any mother, I mull over how I can shelter my boys from pain, or I work really hard at relieving that pain when it rears it's inevitable head. I've been learning slowly to have more of a go-with-the-flow approach to parenting, but when fears creep in, I have a tendency to over-think things. Of course, these boys mean so much to me, I sometimes mistake controlling their world as a form of love.

That's when I find myself with that familiar non-green thumb impulsivity welling up in me, when I feel the need to grab the watering can and scissors and take care of business, thinking I'm the only one on the planet that knows exactly what to do and how to do it. A person can really screw things up that way, controlling the life right out of things, people, decisions, stealing away what the experience or lesson was meant to be.

This one has a whole lot of brown at the top, I better take care of that. Snip. This one's a little yellow, only I know exactly where to cut it. Snip. This one's probably killing the plant. Snip. I have to help get it just right or we'll be wrong, snip snip snip...

until there's nothing left,
no growing or flourishing,
no sprouting out of the ground and reaching toward the sun.
No life.

I believe my boys will be watered and pruned exactly as they should be, even with a little brown around the edges of their leaves, the color of fear, mistakes, and pain. Letting go of control means trusting that the brown will be pruned away in it's own time, no matter how green I think my thumb is, and despite the thousands of unknowns that loom over my 'plants.'


The plant I was given after my Grandfather's funeral means more to me than any plant I've ever had. I suppose that's why I hold back on all that extra watering and pruning. I've learned the hard way what happens when I do that, and this plant means too much to allow myself to get in the way. This time, I'm simply meeting it's basic needs and stepping back.

I guess that's what I'm trying to learn as a mother too, holding myself back and allowing my little plants to flourish, to live and learn, because they mean so much to me. Sometimes that's terrifying, even now in these early years, and I know it's only going to get harder. But I suppose that means I'm truly living too, all that brown around my leaves getting pruned away.

Snip.

• Category:

motherhood, parenting

Saturday, November 7th, 2009



It's time for The Saturday Evening Blog Post with Elizabeth Esther. This is a chance to choose and share a post of your very own from last month. You can head over to Elizabeth Esther's lovely space if you'd like to see which post I chose to share from my October archives, and/or to share your post.

• Category:

Saturday Evening Blog Post

Thursday~November 5, 2009

• Category:

memories, photos

Wednesday~November 4, 2009







He's been thinking a lot about what it means to "move house." He's been listening closely while his mom and dad talk about showings and rush around cleaning for those showings. He's been listening even more closely when we talk to him about the possibility of selling. We've worked hard at pointing out all the positive things about moving, should it actually happen. He's the kind of kid that needs to mull over these things and then look at the bright side of saying goodbye.

So am I.

When we got two offers last night we didn't think too much about the possibility of selling because the offers were very low. We countered the higher of the two offers, bringing the number nearly back to our original asking price. Then we said well, that's that...maybe someone else will see what a great deal this is...

And then we sold our house.

They took the counter offer.

I am freaking out.

Just so you know.

Excitement, shock, grief, happiness, fear, and joy. I felt all of those things in the moment that Ryan called and said we sold it, sweetie. It sold.

This is the way I am. Emotional. For me, moving house is a really big deal. Especially moving cities. But it's good. It's all so good.

So, if you live in my hometown, we'll be moving in December 29th. Please bring chocolate.
And if you live in our other hometown, the one where I sit right now, I'm really going to miss you. Please bring chocolate.

WOOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!!!! We actually sold our house!!!

(Can you tell I'm mulling this over?)

• Category:

moving house

Monday~November 2, 2009

Asher was just standing here driving me crazy, the way he was demanding a banana.

He shouts and he screams! I sigh and boil.

Then I turn to look at him and I see how he sticks his tongue all the way out to say nana, and it totally cracks me up.


What Asher gives off, his contagious joy, even trumps sibling rivalry. Most of the time.

It was right around this time last year that we found out he has hydrocephalus. (If you don't know what that is, it's what used to be called "water on the brain," where valves are not doing their job of getting fluid to the spinal cord...in short. Asher had a brain shunt (a valve that works) put in last December.)

From October, when we got the news, to December, when he had surgery, we really had no idea what to expect. I don't know that we even really understood what was happening. It was a blur of appointments with a neurosurgeon pointing at cat scans and saying things like, "Then we'll pass through here, to the center of his brain and tubing will be put in through his neck to his abdominal cavity," and oh my mothering heart was constantly weeping.

Just look at him now.



We were at our city's annual Halloween bash the other night and I thought, what a difference a year can make. There I was, sitting back all relaxed in our cute little Pleasantville-like city hall, all decorated with orange and black. Miles and Asher were going through the spooky tunnel over and over, and it hit me... I was having normal conversations with people, about the weather and pretty much nothing, and that felt good. Because last year at this same time I was a bundle of nerves, fresh off the phone with doctors, hearing this news I didn't want to hear. Back then, I could not stop telling everyone who innocently asked how are you all about my child and his upcoming brain shunt surgery, somehow slipping it into the conversation.

Seriously. Everyone. I suppose this is pretty typical, this need to be heard, for sympathy, for attention in the midst of fear and hurt.

Looking back, I can see the way I would nearly interrupt a person mid-sentence while they tried to talk about the weather. It's actually quite funny to me now...

How are you, Heather?

SHUNT! Er, I mean...fine! Shunt you for asking.

I can vividly remember the responses, some distracted or uncomfortable, and others truly feeling it with me, bringing me to tears with their big hearts in their eyes.

I can look back and laugh at how I would bring it up now because everything is OK. It's really OK. Asher is going to be just fine, even if he's not always. I'm so glad, of course, but I say that with a bit of a heavy heart because I know that there are so many people out there struggling through things that aren't even close to fine.

I think about that a lot. I've always been somewhat uber-sensitive to what other people are feeling, but it's even more intense now, especially for people who are struggling through medical issues with their children or have lost a child or children. I'm not tooting my own horn here, this is not about me, it's about changes in me that came about because we've gone through something like this. Something that left us waiting through neurosurgery, wanting our baby boy back, and then sitting in pediatric intensive care, watching our child suffer through recovering.

I get something I hadn't really gotten before, and due to some crazy twist of grace, I'm glad to get it.



Asher may drive me bananas with the way he demands nanas, but he is here with me. And the thing is, I'm not saying that all of us who have children that are OK, or at least healthy-ish, should feel guilty about our children's good health, kicking ourselves for ever being grumpy about bananas. I don't think that kind of guilt serves any purpose at all.

But I guess what I am saying is that we should pound the ground with thanks, and then we should listen. Because there are people out there who can't stop themselves from sharing their terrible news, the news that's always there, that horrible thing that sits on everything in their lives, engulfing. These are people who need to be heard and they should be heard and I want to hear them. I want to stand there or sit here and say I know, but I don't know. I get it, almost. I'm just so sorry, friend, because there's nothing else to say and then just listen.

That's largely why we're here, I think. To listen. To just be quiet and listen, not steering away because we have no words, but simply being there.

So let's listen, big hearts in our eyes. Most of the time, that's all a person needs.


Why hello! Are you new here? Did Mama Kat send you? Isn't she the best? (and I'm not just saying that because she chose my Motherhood post, really.) Thank you for taking the time to come by and for "listening" to another post. I appreciate it muchly.
You can find my posts that aren't too shabby on my Hits page. I mean, you know, if you've got all the time in the world or something. Mostly I just want to thank you for coming by. And I did that, so I'll go now...

• Category:

The Noggin, thinking