A Letter of Regret

Dear Facebook,

You captivate me. You really do. I find myself turning the computer on and clicking onto my icon that sends me straight to my home page. There I dwell on the little ins and outs of real friends and virtual friends.

You are always there to let me know when it's cold outside (here or even in Nebraska), when people are getting ready, and even when they are just sitting at a stop light. I enjoy the pictures of all the people that I've accepted a friend request from whether out of want or guilt. I even enjoy it when people are tagged in pictures for the whole world to see. Hey, I've always wanted a complete stranger on the opposite side of the country to know what I did in college. Isn't that why you get on facebook? To find out every piece of information on all the people you attended college and high school with?

I have to admit that I made the mistake of not knowing just how public facebook was when I requested 2 addresses in a note last year so my real life friends could receive a Christmas letter. To my astonishment 10 other people signed up to be put on my personal list. I guess I should feel honor and not scorn, but we had to go back to the archaic e-mail for any addresses we needed this year. The economy, you know, we had to cut back on the list.

A friend noted my scorn of the mundane on your pages and dedicated a whole day just to me. I was so honored that I feel I owe you, facebook, an apology for the sarcasm. Because of you I feel like I've lived the day in the life of this friend, pizza, cold hands, and all. As I was browsing and commenting all day I felt that facebook deserves a big thank you.

Thanks for making the world a lot smaller place.

Regards,
SL

Why Being Stuck Can Be Blessing

Athleticism isn't my gifting. My idea of working out in high school was walking to the parking lot to get into the car. I now like going to work out because I feel better after, but it's been a long process to get there. Since neither the husband nor I are particularly gifted at athletic activity I am not surprised that the toddler has a bit of trouble with his motor skills. He's not behind the normal range, but he still can't do fine motor skills such as opening the doors into and around our house. Until yesterday I felt like this was a blessing. I mean hey, if he's going to be a colicky baby then at least he can't escape from his bedroom in the middle of the night right?

As I was doing laundry yesterday I was hiding in the laundry room to avoid hearing our second colicky baby cry in and out through his nap. I then heard a knocking. Having canceled pre-school at 2am while holding the baby, I thought, "Oh, someone just didn't get my e-mail." I ran toward the front door. No one was there.

I heard more knocking and then, "Mommy, I'm stuck!"

Jiggle, jiggle. knock knock. I looked around.

"STUCK MOMMY! STUCK!" I saw the door to my bedroom closed.

Jiggle jiggle. Knock, knock.

I tried using my ever present bobby pin to no avail. I told the toddler that I was working on it.

"Okay mommy. I'm stuck." Jiggle, jiggle.

I then called the husband. He didn't answer.

I called his office receptionist and asked for my husband's secretary (she loves me, she really does).

The husband called me back and chuckled. "I knew this would happen someday. Go to your mom desk and there is a small screwdriver."

I got the flat head driver and did just as the husband told me and voila. The toddler was free and ran off to play unfazed and perfectly happy.

Maybe it is still a blessing?

After all, I'm just waiting for the day when we hear the toddler talking his adored baby "bruther" awake over the monitor in the middle of the night.

Yoga For Dummies

I started yoga when I was pregnant. I had a pre-natal yoga video that I did about 5 times a week. It really helped to keep my tone and decreased the swelling those last couple of months. It was my happy relaxing time of day. The husband laughed at the lady on the video that was in her last trimester. He would say things like, "If you are following Poppi, then sit down and stop working so hard. If you are following Poppi, please immediately go to the hospital." It was fun.

After the baby's birth, I have been following a post-natal yoga video. It is fairly easy, but helpful to start the abdominal strengthening that seriously needs to happen after a baby. I find when my abdominal area is weak and the hamstrings are tight, my back will ache all day long. After a few months of the yoga I felt like I needed a little more of a challenge.

So, this morning, I went to a class at my gym. I discovered that the power yoga was on Saturday during the baby's morning nap/crying session. Now those not familiar with the term "power yoga," it basically means yoga for exercise with less meditation. That is my kind of yoga. The husband took the toddler to play outside in the garage with him while I went to yoga.

I showed up with my purple yoga mat and walked in the studio a bit nervous. I took a spot in the back of the room. The instructor was great. She started us out slow. I knew all of the poses. As we progressed I did not know all of the poses, but I managed to watch and keep up. Then we moved to the difficult poses. I couldn't reach my arms through my legs and behind my back. I almost fell over. I looked up and a couple of other ladies were having the same problem. I felt better. When everyone did the abdominal roll ups with flat legs perfectly I huffed and puffed, had to bend my knees and grab my legs to get my body up to sitting. The grunting and sweat was pathetic, but I felt great afterward.

I loved it and plan on going on Tuesday evenings and Saturday morning. My goal is to do a roll up without grunting. Baby steps.

Magic

So far I've found that motherhood is really hard, but it has times where it feels almost magical. Yesterday was not one of those days.

The toddler was fussy, strong willed and refused to eat. He whined, threw himself on the floor and was hard to console. (I have to give him credit with being an obedient child who will put himself in time out multiple times when I tell him to go.)

The baby is starting his 4 month sleep regression and was a miserable growly, growly baby. He cried, refused to nap on his own, and just wanted to be held all day. By the afternoon it felt like I had at least 5 babies crying and whiny all over the house. I couldn't get away from it.

Around 5:30 the magical sound of the garage door bringing daddy arrived. After I fed the baby we proceed to try to eat dinner and chat. The toddler cried and whined because he wanted anything for dinner than what we gave him. He was over tired and hungry at this point.

After dinner some evening thunderstorms came through. We watched them come in and got the boys ready for bed as the thunder crashed.

After a long night of babies and thunderstorms we were all up early this morning. The toddler refused his breakfast and the baby cried while I got ready.

As I fed the baby the toddler wandered into the nursery and put his head on my knee. I finished feeding the baby and moved over in the rocker. The toddler crawled up with me and while I rocked the baby he laid his head on my shoulder.

A mid-morning thunderstorm rolled through. As I was listening to the thunder, rocking, and praying I saw the toddler's hand drop as he drifted off to sleep. I heard the baby sigh as he drifted off to sleep. I kept rocking and enjoyed the moment.

Ah. There it is. Magic.

My Night

Around 8ish last night the husband and I were sitting on our comfy sofa and watching a movie when I got a phone call. It was the family saying that my grandmother had fallen at her independent living. Through a series of strange events and sickness that was plaguing our family, my sister and I (9 months pregnant) ended up taking her to the ER. On my way out I grabbed a Hardy Boys mystery for the wait I knew was ahead of me.

We got to the ER and checked in. I started to check my surroundings. Nothing too weird yet. A little girl came to chat and ask if I was having a boy or girl. We went for an x-ray and then sat back down to wait for a room and a doctor. We watched a man who was drunk get taken back by a nurse.

Then the man across from us asked if I were having a boy or girl. He then proceeded to chat with us. He told me that he had a 25 year old son and then a 10 year old girl who he pointed at. She was sleeping peacefully on the couch. I was about to say something like, "Yeah. Isn't being a parent great?" when he then hit me with, "Yeah, my girlfriend is pregnant as well." I politely asked if he was going to have a boy or a girl and his response was that he didn't know. " He then kept going. "My wife might be upset by it, but she's in prison so she doesn't have a say." Stunned for a moment all I could get out was, "oh. heh, heh. That's unfortunate."

Luckily the nurse came at that moment so I pretended to get really engrossed in my Hardy Boys book and my sister hung her head and read a magazine with great intensity. I heard him chatting with the nurse and being called back. "Bye," he said to us. "I hope they give me some heroin." All I could say was, "Bye!"

We got into the doctor around 1:30 am and fortunately my grandmother is fine. As I crawled into my bed around 2:30 I was thankful. I had not gone into labor and had a great husband who had put out some nice, ice cold water for me on the nightstand. Much better than heroin, but I'm not sure that gentleman from the hospital would agree. I think tonight I'm going to finish my Hardy Boy mystery. I'm hankering to know what happens.

So, how was your night last night?

PS. OB appointment was good. Dilated to 3 and 60% effaced. I feel we're making good progress.

PPS. Husband did not go to the hospital with my grandmother because he has a bug and we want him to be well when the baby gets here.

A Chance of Diabetes with A Frosty in the Air

Diabetes runs in my family. My dad, his sister, my grandma, and just about everyone has it. My children have no chance. In fact, I feel like I'm a goner. Now this may not seem like a big deal, but I work in health care and I see a majority of people with complications from diabetes. It makes me paranoid. In fact, I'm not a fun member of the family anymore. I have trouble watching my grandma eat only a box a cookies instead of real food without throwing a fit. (She thinks her blood sugar just gets a little high. This drives me insane.) I know I have to have limits in what I say, but sometimes I can't help myself and then I get lectured on how she's old etc. and I should just let her do what she wants. Anyhow. I digress.

So, gestational diabetes is a big paranoia for me. I took the short test last Monday. I thought I was clear, but then they called me up on Friday and said I needed to take the longer one. My paranoid self asked about my scores and the nurse kindly gave them to me. It wasn't as bad as I had thought, but there were still tears involved. So, this Monday I went in for the longer test. A friend watched the boy (Praise be!) and I fasted that morning and went in. If you haven't taken a long diabetes test you just haven't lived. I was shaking and very snarly, hungry, and cranky by the time it was over so I did what anyone who had tried to consistently watch their sugar over the course of the pregnancy would do. I met the husband at Wendy's and got a burger, fries, and a frosty. I didn't even feel guilty breaking lent.

Well. Okay. I felt guilty, but it was so tasty. It also helped to find out that I do not have gestational diabetes. The nurse gave me my numbers, congratulated me and told me to go celebrate....without sugar. I guess I'll still try to be good these last 8 weeks.

Ants in My Kitchen

There are ants in my house. Specifically around the little desk in our kitchen. They aren't everywhere in the kitchen. Just my desk. It's like they want to hang out and chat. "Hey you, they whisper. It's nicer in here. What ca' doing?" They are starting to get on my nerves.

Well, the ants, the mourning, whiny cat, the overwhelming amounts of laundry, and a fussy toddler who may or may not eat at any given day (though this is getting better). I should have more sympathy, but I've called someone to spray our kitchen and outside to get rid of the pests. Maybe that will help me be more sympathetic towards our cat. At least I'll more sympathy for the toddler I think when the ants are gone. It's probably just me and my poor attitude today.

The pest control is coming tomorrow if it doesn't rain. Until then I'm going to fold laundry in the living room while I can.

The Phone Call

This morning my sister called me while I was in the middle of my fun 3rd trimester diabetes test. So, while we were on our way home I called her back. My almost 3 year old niece answered and we had a nice conversation before she hung up. Since I didn't chat with my sister, I called back. Again my niece answered and we chatted. By the 3rd time I was getting a bit worried. I started to wonder what was happening. Here are some possibilities that I came up with from logical deduction and per the 3 previous conversations with my niece:

A) My sister was rocking Elmo to sleep
B) My sister was at Grandma's house
C) My sister was hurt and couldn't get to the phone
D) My sister was indisposed and didn't know my niece was answering the phone.

What do you guys think it was?

My Yellow Boots

I bought these beautiful babies while living in a Hurricane-prone city last year. In fact, I bought these at J-crew for a mere $10. I was so proud, but have never got to wear them out until today.



It has been sleeting all day long. It never seems to just snow a nice soft snow here, just a nice cold sleet that covers the grass. The husband was unable to get into work because it doesn't ever snow here. Hence, our city doesn't feel the need to stock up on a lot of expensive snow plows. We just all stay at home. It is fun, but I can go a little crazy. So, this afternoon after the boys nap we bundled up and went outside. The perfect opportunity to put on my fancy shoes huh?



It was still sleeting and the sleet was piled up so high that sledding wasn't very much fun. We stayed outside about 5 minutes. I took some pictures and we all went back inside to enjoy our nice warm house. Here is a picture of the grass. Exciting I know, but there you go. We're kinda bored around here. At least I got to wear the yellow boots.

Don't Worry, You'll Forget This Post

The boy is going through his 18 month sleep regression. (You can read about this particular sleep regression here if you're interested. Also this and this and this are helpful and encouraging. This and this make me feel better.) At the same time the morning sickness has progressed to the worst stage. This has to be a natural occurrence from what I've read about it. It just isn't fun to get up at four in the morning with the boy and only want to lay on the nice cool tile the rest of the day. People say that I will forget the bad times and only remember how sweet he was at this stage. I sure do hope so.

They also said that I wouldn't remember the newborn stage by the time I had another one, but I haven't forgotten. In fact I have the colicky time etched in my mind very firmly. I wish I could forget, but I think the very clear, real terror has helped a few other moms while they are going through the same thing.

They said I would forget the pain of labor, but again, I panic when I realize I'm going through that again in June. People say you'll forget a lot of things, but they must mean I'll forget when I have dementia in my 70's because it's all still very vivid.

The husband says that he feels that we can't have another one until my mom retires so as to have help during the next sleep regression. I guess he'll have to take that up with God. The good thing is that my mom volunteered to take the boy Wednesday night before Thanksgiving. God bless her.

Maybe we'll survive and I'll forget this ever happened.

Why is It?

Why is it that when people ask me how I'm doing I feel a compulsive need to say, "Oh, I'm fine." I did that yesterday and this was my day.

Some background: I just had Lasek done so I have contact bandages on my eye and can't see very well yet. I'm been reassured that I won't be blind and I'll have good vision by next Friday, but alas it is only Sunday. (I have to keep reminding myself why I did the surgery this weekend to make myself feel better). I'm really drugged up on medication to help with pain in my eyes and therefore have brusies on my arm. Why bruises? Because I tend to walk into things while trying to reach the bathroom in the middle of the night.

The baby has a cold with a mild temperature, and has started wheezing again. Not enough for ER status, but just enough that I'm frantically worried and have his inhaler nearby at all times. He loves to run around which makes his wheezing worse. He hates his inhaler so life is all the more plesant when we subject him to it. Sometimes we have to choose. Crying because he wants to run and not stay still or crying for the inhaler. I sometimes choose the movie route because chasing a toddler with fuzzy eyes and on medication is difficult. Oh, also the boy fell over out of his chair yesterday and has a silver-dollar-sized bruise on his forehead and a scrape under his eye.

But I guarentee if you call me tonight and ask how I'm doing I'll say, "Oh fine!" Either that or I'll already be sleeping.

To Keep or Not to Keep

We just bought a house, but it took us years of saving, money crunching, and mockery. The husband and I are what we call thrifty. My sister-in-law calls us cheap. She says that we could survive the Great Depression. We budget, save, and we fix things ourselves so naturally this had to come out sometime in the house buying process.

We knew that with buying a house come many extra expenses, and we thought we had prepared for them. We researched how much a refrigerator costs and had some money. We decided that the one we wanted was fine, but felt we could get a better deal on Craig's list. The husband found one that sounded like the one we wanted and called.

Friday after closing we went to look at it in the storage unit. As we waited by the storage unit I expressed my concerns. Was it stolen? Was it working? How long had they used it? As they pulled it out of storage I was appalled. All of my worst fears seemed to be coming true. The husband asked me to look inside. I opened the door and got a whiff of the incredibly rancid smell that comes from mold I almost said, "Let's just go." As we stepped aside to chat about it, I looked at the excitement on the husband's face and knew that we were going to buy this awful fridge.

We bought it and took it home to clean. The husband took it apart while I watched with skepticism. As the husband used a pressure washer for the inside I began to bleach all the drawers out and scrubbed off the dirt. We bleached the inside of the fridge and used a cleaning solution of borax, baking soda, and water (works wonders with smells by the way). We soaked all the plastic parts in bleach water over night. The next day the fridge's makeover was almost complete. The husband went to the hardware store,replaced some broken plastic parts and swiped it out. It looked shiny and new. I was impressed with our efforts. We had saved so much money.

Then the husband plugged it in. It didn't work. Isn't a fridge supposed to keep things cool? Was it the pressure washer? The bleach? Was it me? Did it know that I didn't really want it in my shiny new house? Did I hurt its feelings? Do refrigerators have feelings? I was concerned.

The husband told me not to worry. "You'll have a fridge in your house," he said, comforting me while looking again on Craig's list. The cheap side of me figures that we can sell it to someone who likes to fix things for at least what we paid for it, but I have doubts. Did we just pay for a now shiny, clean boat anchor?

I know I'll eventually get a fridge but am I going to have a fridge by the time we move in?

It remains to be seen. I think I'll block Craig's list on our computer.

Litter Delivery

Something happened this morning and it is a long story. I'll start at the beginning.

Our family has two cats. Keeping the smell of the litter box down requires an ample supply of cat litter and an industrious husband who scoops the litter. Being perfectionists, combined with living in a small space that required me living close to the litter, the husband and I searched for the perfect litter. The ideal litter should clump, keep the smell down, and keep the litter tracking to a minimum. We found some brands of litter we liked, but nothing truly met all requirements. Then we found our perfect litter.

The husband found this website and we decided to take the plunge and order it online. This litter met all the requirements, was eco-friendly, and it was delivered to our door.

After a few perfect months of prompt delivery, in April we didn't receive our litter. After many phone calls the husband found out what the problem was, but the customer service wasn't the best. I don't know all the details, but when he called in for the third time, still trying to speak to a manager, he learned that the rather unhelpful representative he'd spoken to twice earlier in the day had left work in an ambulance. The husband didn't ask why. Eeep. The manager, however, took care of things for us. After we received a free package of litter, we decided to give the company another chance before we canceled

Unfortunately in June we, again, did not receive our litter. The husband called, fully intending to cancel the order. The new customer service representative was so responsive that we didn't cancel and received a free litter order that week, and a refund.

Except that this month, July, we received no litter. The husband called on Wednesday determined to shut down this destructive cycle of not receiving litter and then being bribed with free litter. He expressed his frustration in this e-mail:

I'm kinda torn. I really just wanted to cancel and be done with them, but they're sending free litter--and it doesn't track! Other kinds of litter smells worse and tracks. What to do? It's like being trapped in a crummy relationship with a man who yells at you half the time and then buys you nice shoes, flowers, and dinner the other half of the time. I enjoy the make-up treatment, but I kinda hate myself for staying in the relationship. You know?

After all, they told us they were fixing the shipping problem right? They won't do it again? They're going to sober up and get a job. They promised.

Today as I was putting goop in my crazy hair at 7 in the morning, I heard a loud knocking at my door. "WHO is at the door this early?" I think to myself. I open the door and behold...it is the UPS man delivering our litter. The company had sent an overnight delivery to our door.

So, should we cancel? Or should we hold out next time for chocolate, roses, and a bottle of wine? I'm torn, but I do so enjoy the free litter.

Cute Conversation of the Week

This conversation took place yesterday while in our apartment pool:

7 year old: Miss SL?

Me: Yes?

7 yr old: Can I jump in the pool with the baby over my head?

Me: Um no.

7 yr old: I'll keep him above my head so he won't go under water.

Me: Well, the baby is a bit too small for that right now.

7 yr old: Okay, then in 3 years can I jump in with him over my head?

Me: Sure. You'll have to ask him, but I'm sure that would be fun.

A Day At the ER

During my physical therapy clinical affiliations, I got to see a lot of different diagnosis and people from many walks in life. I was still in school and always felt confident because I had a clinical instructor around me to help during the "crisis" moment. Like the time my patient coded and my CI ran into the room, grabbed my lab coat, and proceeded to wipe things up while the nurses pushed me out of the way to work on the patient. Then there was the aggressive head injury patient that screamed obscenities every time I walked by, but I felt confident he would never lunge at me because my trusty CI was right around the corner. Then I graduated.

I got my first job and I realized that though I had great therapists all around me to help, these patients were my responsibility and under my license. That first three months were humbling and hard. I lacked confidence, constantly stumbled over my words, and made many mistakes. To this day I wake up sweating and pray for my patients that I had my first year out of school. What I discovered this week is that sometimes doctors lack confidence right after they graduate.

Tuesday, I took my son to the ER because he was having trouble breathing. His oxygen levels were low at the doctor's office and they told me to drive immediately to Children's Hospital. I drove quickly and within minutes they had us checked in and back in a room. As soon as we were placed in a room the nurse and respiratory therapist confidently walked in, checked my son, and immediately put him on some breathing treatments. The physician that oversees the residents came in, checked my son, and with a very calm demeanor, ordered treatments. Our nurse explained the whole treatment process in great detail. This nurse had a great bedside manner, was good with the boy, and really calmed me down.

During the breathing treatment the resident in charge of our room shuffled in to greet us. She was trying so hard to talk calmly and softly, but frankly I couldn't understand her over the screams from my boy and asked her to please speak up (he really hates his breathing treatments.) She continued to talk quietly, but she wasn't really making much sense to me. I finally caught that she wanted to look at my son and needed my permission. I pointed to the boy who sitting on my husband's lap, squirming, being held down by the respiratory therapist, and screaming at the top of his lungs and said, "Be my guest." She looked at me with what now I think was almost terror and said, "I'll just come back." I shrugged, "Okay."

I wasn't really concerned if this particular resident did a thorough evaluation because I was confident that the nurse and respiratory therapist knew exactly what they were doing. Later that afternoon the same resident came in and asked how the boy was. I looked at her and said, "Um, fine I think. I feel like his breathing is better." What I thought was, "I don't know. Why don't you check his lungs and tell me what you think?" (I was tired and cranky at this point so I need some credit for not saying this out loud.) She then tried to check the boy's lungs, but was unsuccessful due to his constant screaming. She finally left and went to talk with the boy's nurse.

After a day of treatments, suction, singing show tunes to our boy, waiting, and watching cartoons and a re-run of Gilmore Girls, we were sent home.

That evening as I was describing the day to my sister she laughed and said, "My friend just started her residency yesterday. The quiet resident was probably on her second day out from medical school." "Ah, that would explain a lot" I said.

Poor thing. I hope we didn't traumatize her for life, but at least she'll remember us.

The Puttering Combination

put*ter: (function: intransitive verb)

1 : to move or act aimlessly or idly 2 : to work at random : tinker

The husband and I both putter in the mornings. Mine is done right after I get out of bed. I roll around, groan, and slowly make my way to get ready. I'm revived after my shower and coffee and can actually get ready within 30 minutes once I get going.

The husband on the other hand can zip right out of bed, do his exercise, take a shower, and make breakfast and coffee before I'm even out of bed. His putter sequence happens after breakfast. He slowly brushes his teeth, wanders to find his socks and shoes, and has to force himself out the door.

Between the two of us we are usually late to church. We've discussed and analyzed the puttering combination, but really hadn't overcome it until this morning. Historically, the husband would occasionally come and prod me and (eventually) drag me out of bed. This stopped after the baby was born. In fact, Sunday mornings are even harder when you throw the baby factor into the morning mix.

The husband really likes to go to early service to hear the jazz ensemble, but we have missed the prelude lately and walk in during the songs. Today being Fathers' Day, I made a huge effort to drag my uncooperative body out of bed. I got ready, had an extra cup of coffee, got the baby dressed and fed, and was waiting by the door 5 minutes early.

And where was the husband? He was getting acquainted with his new Fathers' Day tie, lost somewhere in the middle of his putter stage. I pushed him along, volunteered to drive, and eventually dragged the barefoot husband to the car carrying his belt, jacket, and shoes.

It worked splendidly and we got to church early. Yay for Fathers' Day motivation!

Unfortunately I don't think I'll have the motivation on the front end nor the husband on the tail end for this to happen every week. It's a combination force that's hard to overcome.

Mufflers

Why a post on mufflers? My muffler has been the bane of my existence this week. Last week, I pulled out from a green light and I noticed that my car sounded like a race car. I knew instantly that something had gone awry with my muffler. How did I know that? Well I'll tell you.

I bought the car I drive 4 months before we got married. My faithful college car had finally died with $4000 worth of damage. My dad suggested that we go look at a small lot where a man fixes up totaled cars and re-sells them. We looked and decided that it was a much better deal to spend $4000 to buy a car instead of fixing the old one. Not only did it keep us out of debt, but it has been a terrific car. It does have some "quirks" about it.

For instance, the front driver's door was replaced so the automatic locks are only on that door. The lights on the radio and air conditioning sometimes work, but that is more inconvenient than necessary. We have to stuff a paper in the console to keep the blinker from constantly blinking, but it works. Of course we've had a few "muffler incidents."

The first one occurred while we were in California about 2 weeks before we moved to Washington D.C. for the summer. I took it in to a muffler place and they estimated a $600 charge plus muffler costs to replace the whole thing. So I did what any cheap person obsessed with staying out of debt would do, "How dangerous is it?" I asked. Oh, not very the man replied. So I left it and we drove to D.C.

While in the D.C area I took it in for an oil change. The man who changed my oil told me about my muffler and gave me the same estimate because "Your car won't pass the inspection for registering it in Maryland." I think I really annoyed him because I left with a broken muffler and no desire to change over my plates.

Then we drove home to California stopping in my home town. At that point the car was becoming nosier and we could smell the fumes. It was time. I took it into a friend of my dad's who was trustworthy and he sent us to a small town shop. I took it in fully expecting the worst. The man came out and said, "We can just weld a part in and the cost will be $15." Done.

Then last year as the husband was pulling away I heard the sound return. So, we went through the whole routine and sure enough, the trusty fellow from my home town, just welded that piece right back on.

Then it happened again last week. I was sure that we were going to have to cough up the cash by this time so I procrastinated. Then fearing for my baby's safety and imagining all sorts of horrible ways he could get exhaust poisoning, the husband graciously found a nice repair shop here (it was too far to drive back to my home town for muffler work.)

Oh, how the South has risen again. The kind man said we really didn't need a new muffler, just to fix the pipe. So 2 hours and $30 later my car is a quiet car once again. I love the South. Long live Texas!

Weekends, Fellowship, Coffee, and Five Dollars

Ah, the three day weekend. It was a bit of an emotional drain for me. We went to visit family for just a day. I was dreading this visit because of things that happened around the holidays, but it turned out fairly well. The boy just can't seem to sleep in this one particular house and I feel pressured and condemned when he doesn't. Oh, well. You can lead a baby to a bed, but you can't make them sleep.

Then Monday the husband and I used up our energy getting a lot of little projects done around the house. All of the family is coming into town for the boy's first birthday next weekend and we knew that we had limited time to make things a bit more livable and guest ready around here.

So, this morning I was really grateful that I had my mom's meeting. When I was first invited, I was surprised that you have to pay $5 for nursery. Then I realized what you get for your $5.

You get a super organized nursery with the same women to watch your baby that watch him on Sundays (Sundays are free, the $5 is just for the mom's group). The $5 is worth it's weight times 10 for the security of having 2 ladies that, know my baby, see him every week, and take great care of him while I get to fellowship and study God's Word. Not only does it cost a mere $5 for 3 hours of fellowship and a small bible study, but at the last meeting of every semester you get to go out to eat with the other moms after you drop off your children. Today was the last meeting for the Spring semester and everyone met at this great breakfast dive down the road for delicious food and pure fellowship.

We all arrive right on time, sit, eat our breakfast, and spend the next hour and 1/2 chatting over coffee. A much needed fellowship break in the midst of 2 small storms. What a blessing. Oh, how this group has ministered to a weary soul this past year.

An Answer to a Question

This weekend someone asked me how I became a big fan of Corrie Ten Boom. I gave some generic answer, but wanted to answer it more thoroughly. What better way to do that than the blog?

As I thought about it over the weekend I came up with several interconnected answers:

When did I discover the book The Hiding Place? I don't really know who suggested the book or why I started reading the book, but it became a favorite while I was in college. All I know now is that it is one of my 2 favorite books that I try to re-read every year.

The book appeals to me on many levels. One major appeal is all the childhood and adult stories about, what appears, to be a simple life for Corrie. I love that she remembers certain key times in her life that had an effect on her and how she reacted and dealt with life by remembering these stories, when it was unbearable in a concentration camp. A lot of the stories are seemingly insignificant events in the big picture of her life, but every story relates to how she dealt with the future work that God had prepared for her. The growth through childhood and early adulthood prepared her for her reaction to a very hard time in her life, which ultimately prepared her for her work that she would do after WWII. I think the book does an excellent job of looking at one's past and seeing how God's hand specifically orchestrates everything in a simple life to ultimately prepare one for his ultimate calling.

This book always gives me a better perspective on whatever I am going through in my life. To know that all the small, simple, and boring things that I am learning have a purpose. Now, I probably won't be put in a concentration camp, but the purpose of my life is being orchestrated for the ultimate glory for God even if that is as simple as playing with my son while he pokes and chews his books over and over and over and over until I am going out of my mind. I believe that all the hard things in life are what builds our character and that God uses it for His glory. In the big picture if I am totally doing what God wants me to do with my life I will end up glorifying Him. That is comforting to me.

Another reason I love the book so much is all of the life lessons that one can learn. How to handle big disappointments, how to forgive the unforgivable, how to love, how to follow God when it is hard; all of these lessons are like little treasures all in one book. My favorite story is how Corrie forgave one of her captors when he came up to her when she spoke to a church after WWII was over. Even then she had to lean on God's strength to even shake this man's hand. What a beautiful lesson.

So, why did I use a Corrie Ten Boom quote on my blog? This specific blog is for me to write and remind myself that all of the daily nothings in my life really do help me walk closer with God. Because a lot of Corrie's story is about choices you make for everyday life, I used the quote to remind me of the purpose of this blog. It helps my perspective.

The Farm

This week the boy and I went to visit my in-laws at "The Farm." "The Farm" is in quotes because in my mind a farm is technically where one plows, puts seeds in the ground, and then when it is harvested there is food involved somehow. "The Farm" is more of a ranch with cows. I do have to say that they "farm" hay, but there are no plows, combines, etc. Everyone in the family just calls it "The Farm," so that is what I am forced to call it.

While we were on "The Farm" we took out the Gator out so the boy could hear and see the cows.

At first they weren't really very interested in us.

Then a few noticed that we were just sitting there in the pasture.

Then they started to surround us.

They got a bit close for my comfort.

But, after awhile, they decided that we weren't worth the effort and moved on with their busy lives.

Oh, Are you guys still here?