Princess Poopy Pants Strikes Again

Speaking of poop, I just found this old blog story stuck in my draft folder. I guess I never published it for some reason. 

June 23, 2007

It's been awhile since I've shared a poopy story, and I just couldn't resist telling this one…

About a week ago, Allyson was happily removing all items from the bottom two pantry shelves while I loaded the dishwasher. Just as I was finishing the last couple of items, Allyson crawled over and clung to my leg, whining to be picked up. I noted absently the aroma of poop and made a mental note to check her diaper soon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that she was carrying something blue and white, maybe a dish towel. After I'd loaded the last dish, I turned to pick her up and realized that she was carrying a diaper--that was full of poop! How could she have gotten into the trash without my noticing?

I scooped Allsyon up onto my left hip, pried the diaper loose with much protest, and threw it in the trash. I immediately called Bill to describe his daughter's latest antic. "But where did the diaper come from?" he asked. He hadn't put a diaper into the kitchen trash, and neither had I.

Hmmm…. She wouldn't.... Surely she couldn't.... I reached down under her big-girl nightie and touched… her bare bum. Somehow she had gotten the diaper off. And now her bare, poopy bum was up against my hip. Bill was howling. "I gotta go!" I shouted as I raced up to the changing table.

After we were both in clean clothes again, I had to count my blessings:
1. At least she was holding the diaper right-side up, carrying it like a basket.
2. At least she hadn't put her hands in it and squished it around like she had done with her birthday cake a couple of days before.
3. At least it wasn't runny. It just left a few brown flakes on my shorts.

From now on, Princess Poopy Pants will be wearing shorts or pants over her diaper at all times!

Allyson Smashing Her First Birthday Cake

My New Favorite Gadget

If you've been reading long, you know how I love me a new gadget. So I'm sure you won't believe that I've kept quiet about my latest addition to the collection for about four weeks!

Remember how I whined over the unaccustomed task of picking up Lola's poop? Well, sometimes it pays to complain. After my brother Rick read that entry, he showed me his own system for picking up after his own dogs (and grand-dogs). He uses a Sanitary Pooper Scooper in combination with a bag-lined bucket. No stooping, no heavy shovel, no swaying plastic bag. Piece of cake! (Piece of something, anyway.)

I wasted no time ordering my own scooper, just $12.90 on Amazon. I could hardly wait for it to arrive! When it did, I scurried right out to the backyard to try it out. I'm telling you, that scooper is fabulous! It's light and nimble, and so much easier on the grass than the heavy shovel. Why, it made poop scooping almost... enjoyable. Almost. For the first time, anyway.

Positively Ecstatic. Can't You Tell? 

The next weekend, I generously gave Ethan a turn with the new scooper. While his reaction wasn't quite as enthusiastic as mine, he did agree that it made the job much easier.

At our first monthly family dinner, I raved to Mom about the scooper, and Rick brought his out again to demonstrate. Mom didn't even wait until she got home to order hers. It was easy to understand her excitement; they have three dogs to pick up after. (However, I bet those two Chihuahuas and one poodle don't drop as much doo in a day as my one 60-pound Lab mix.)

I've now used the scooper three times, and it still gives me a little thrill. A tiny one, to be sure. Of course it doesn't compare to the thrill of using, say, my Nutrimill Grain Mill (after at least a hundred uses, too). But any sort of thrill from picking up dog poop is a pretty good thing, don't you think?

The Best Chapter

In honor of Valentine's Day, I thought I would share the next chapter in my (now finished?) love story with Bill. This is the one I've been looking forward to telling you ever since I started that very sporadic series of blog entries. 

Excerpts from Allyson's Journal
4/18/06
Daddy wrote this in my birthday card:
Happy 36th birthday! I do think dreams come true.... Most nights as I lay in bed (in our house), next to you (my beautiful, caring and loving wife), with my hand on your belly feeling our daughter, I think my dreams have come true....

About 8 months along.
Funny, I had no idea Allyson was going to be huge. 

Ethan and His Cousin Savannah

5/14/06
I've been so frustrated with all this false labor. How will I know when to go to the hospital? What if I wait too long? You're not due for three more weeks, but the doctor says it could be any day.

I've decided to take that with a grain of salt. Yes, you could be born tomorrow (or tonight), but you could also be born in two or three weeks. I'm going to try to relax and live my normal life. You'll come when you come and I'll have to trust God to let me know when we should go to the hospital.

5/16/06
Well, I guess I wasn't listening closely enough. I doubt that God told us to go to the hospital today, but we went....

At six in the morning, I had several hard contractions about three minutes apart. I told Daddy I thought it was time...

Daddy woke Ethan up, and he was amazingly cooperative. He got his clothes and shoes right on and went downstairs. Too excited to eat breakfast, he helped Daddy pack his school lunch, then helped him gather last-minute items for the hospital.

When I came down, Ethan said, "So this is what it's like to get ready for a baby!" I thought that was so cute! When we dropped him off at before-school care, he gave me a big hug before Daddy took him in.

We weren't far into our drive when I realized the contractions were slowing down. By the time we reached the hospital, they were 10 minutes apart. Given my odd labor pattern with my first baby [more on that in another entry], I decided it wouldn't hurt to get checked....

The labor and delivery nurse hooked me up to a monitor for an hour, watching my contractions and your heartbeat. Naturally, the contractions slacked off severely. I had only four in an hour, and felt so silly....

I cried a little during the monitoring. Daddy was very supportive. He stroked my hand and sat quietly by my side. He made me laugh a couple of times.

When the nurse sent me home, she seemed rather patronizing in her instructions. "Don't come back until the contractions are consistently five minutes apart," she said. "I know you said your contractions were not regular with your first baby, but...."

I reiterated that the contractions had never been close to five minutes apart with Ethan, and that I'd been 8 centimeters dilated (out of 10) when I reached the hospital. I explained that with such a long drive, I was concerned about possibly delivering the baby in the car.

She replied that the most important thing was that the contractions would be very painful. When I informed her that mine weren't very painful with Ethan, she raised an eyebrow. I could tell she thought I was stupid, or that I was lying. I felt so defensive, so foolish. I cried in the parking lot, though I couldn't explain why.

Monday 5/29/06
Well, I wish I could say there were no more pre-birth labor dramas, but that was not the case. Last Sunday I thought my water had broken.... Of course, the leaking had stopped by the time I got to the hospital. Either I'd been peeing myself repeatedly, or there had been a small hole that sealed itself....

Sunday 6/4/06 
Another week has passed, and still no baby.... I felt down yesterday, but today I feel better. At church we sang a new song called "Hallelujah" [the one from the Shrek soundtrack]. It really moved me as I realized how many reasons I have to sing hallelujah. Why have I been frustrated and upset? I have a baby coming in the next week. I have a husband who loves and supports me. I have a strong, active baby inside me, for almost certainly the last time. I have a God who cares for me and my baby, who knows what's best for us. I let the tears fall and just let go of the worry. And although nothing has changed, and I'm still confused about the contractions, it doesn't seem to matter today. I feel content.

Tuesday 6/6/06
I wish my contentment could have lasted longer than two days. Yesterday I had contractions all day at work, and it was easy to see they were getting more frequent. By bedtime, they were about five minutes apart. I agonized over whether to go to the hospital but finally decided to go to bed and see what would happen. I was up almost all night. I managed to doze, but the contractions woke me over and over.

This morning the contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, so we headed to the hospital. But the moment we got in the car, they slowed down, about 6-9 minutes apart. So instead of going to triage, we went to the doctor's office. My doctor's associate examined me, and she strongly recommended induced labor--tomorrow!

Being presented with this choice was overwhelming, especially after getting so little sleep. I sobbed all the way to my mom's house, where I spent the day relaxing....

Wednesday 6/7/06 4:30 A.M.
Today is your birthday! My water broke at 4:00, and we are at the hospital. The pains are about three minutes apart, and pretty sharp. I am nervous and excited. Ethan is with us, and Grandpa is on the way to pick him up.... I'm so excited to meet you, sweet Allyson!

Wednesday 6/7/06 8:15 P.M.
You are a beautiful baby. I can't believe how smoothly the whole labor went. I know God was with me throughout....

After two hours, I was at 6 centimeters, making good progress....

Around 8:00, the doctor came and broke my water. I was 7 centimeters dilated. The pain was still quite manageable. I was able to laugh and talk through the contractions. I wished that snippy labor nurse who'd made me feel so stupid on that first trip could see me now, but I never saw her.

Hard Labor??

But when I hit 8 centimeters, the pain ratcheted up abruptly, like a knife stabbing me in my lower back. Previously, I'd been praying through the contractions, asking for peace and strength, asking God to open my cervix. Now, I could only moan and breathe, "Jesus, Jesus."

The nurse, Candace, said she'd check me again in an hour, and if I hadn't progressed she'd give me a little Pitocin to make the contractions stronger. Make them stronger?? After an hour? I suddenly decided I wanted an epidural after all. She said it wasn't too late.

An anesthesiologist came in a minute or two later, almost as if he'd been waiting in the hall. Was I glad to see him! He asked a few questions, but I could barely answer him. I literally had trouble telling him my name, and also gave him my pre-pregnancy weight by mistake. He finally told me to roll onto my right side, and started to swab my back for the injection.

After I'd lurched over like a beached whale, I cried, "She's coming now. Now!"

I'd been checked only five minutes before, but Candace checked again. Verifying that I was at 10 centimeters, she dismissed the anesthesiologist and paged the doctor. "Oh no!" I thought. There was no turning back. This was going to be an all natural birth.

Candace lifted my legs into the stirrups for some practice pushes. She told me to hold my breath and push, but I kept breathing really fast. "I'm scared!" I told Daddy.

Candace told me to look in her eyes. "Remember not to breathe. Don't make a sound. Just push." Finally I got the hang of it. The pain was almost gone, leaving a tremendous pressure in its wake.

After one contraction, she said, "No more pushing!" Pressing my knees together, she told me to blow. I repeated, "She's coming NOW!"

My doctor, Karan, must have run across from her office. When I saw her, I wanted to push again, but Candace told me to keep blowing while she got ready. I replied, "She's coming! I can't stop it."

At last they put my feet in the stirrups and let me push. After just one contraction, your head and elbow were out. I could hear your gurgling cry, but I couldn't see you. And then the rest of you slipped gently into the world. Luckily, Candace urged me to open my eyes, just in time to see you emerge.

I looked at Daddy and started to laugh. I couldn't believe I had done it! You were here! I thought I would cry, but I just laughed. Your daddy cried, though. He said he'd been crying a lot because I was so brave. But I hadn't felt brave.

As she caught you, Karan had said, "Wow! This is a big baby." The pediatric nurse weighed you right away and announced that you were 9 pounds and 0 ounces. I couldn't believe how easily you'd come. Nine pounds!

Thursday 6/8/06
Your first day passed in a blur. You were in a quiet, alert state for much of the day, but by evening you were exhausted. You slept and slept, through quite a few visitors--many of whom held you and remarked how pretty you were. Grandpa and Grandma visited, bringing along your big brother, Aunt Emily, Hillary, Savannah, and Sammy.

Proud, Proud Daddy

Ethan was too nervous to hold you at first, but then he changed his mind. He was so proud!

The next visitors were Uncle Rick, Aunt Diane, and Mindy....

Grandma and Cousin Mindy

Through all of this, you slept. But after a nurse came to weigh you at 11:30 that night, you were wide awake. Daddy was wonderful with you! He held you, talked softly to you, rocked you, and walked the floor. He told you he understood how tired and overwhelmed you must be--such a journey you had made! I was very moved by his compassion and the joy with which he cared for you.

When you awoke again and hour or so later, I looked down at you as you nursed. In that moment, I fell in love with you. It had been such an exciting, hectic day that I really hadn't had time to bond with you. But now it was only you and I in the world; Daddy was asleep in the uncomfortable futon chair. After you ate, I held you against my body, skin to skin, with your blanket covering us. You slept blissfully, lulled by my heartbeat. I whispered that I missed carrying you inside me, but I was so glad to hold you in my arms at last.

Monday 6/12/06
You've been home several days now, and you're settling into a routine. It's been very difficult because you sleep all day and then stay up all night. Again, I've been amazed at the grace Daddy shows despite his lack of sleep. He talks tenderly to you and gazes lovingly at you even in the middle of the night.

One of Those Exhausting Nights

It's been harder on me. I'm tired from the delivery and from making milk. My hormones are changing, and that makes me weepy when I don't get enough sleep. Daddy is tender with me also. He rubs my back while I cry, and he snuggles me close when I'm too anxious to sleep. I'm falling in love with him all over again....

Nana and Grandpa arrived on the 8th, the day after your birth. They were a lot of help, doing all the cooking and helping to comfort you when you thought you wanted to eat all the time. Nana watched over me to make sure I was eating and drinking lots of water.

Nana and Her Angel

Of course, they fell in love with you instantly. Nana called you an angel. She and Auntie Lisa--who saw you on the hospital website--think you look just like your father. But my family thinks you look just like me when I was a baby. I can see Ethan in you, too. Your cheeks are chubby like his were.

The Hospital Picture

You are such a miracle. I love to see your wide eyes when you are awake. I love to see you totally relaxed in sleep, with so many expressions playing across your face. I can see Daddy, Ethan, and even myself in you....

Ethan loves you, too. He's so helpful and cooperative, which shows he's growing up. He cheerfully washes his hands so he can hold you.... I'm very, very proud of the way he's welcomed you into the family.

After reading through all these journal entries and reliving the happy memories, I'm surprised that I don't feel a bit sad. Those were good times, and I'm glad we had them. I'm sure God has many more happy memories in store for me. Perhaps the best is yet to come! 

Happy Valentine's Day to you and yours. 

Shut Up and Reboot

As a former tech support associate, one of my all-time favorite Dilbert cartoons is this one:

For the record, while I sometimes rolled my eyes at some of my more vexing callers, I wouldn't have dreamed of telling them to shut up and reboot. So you can imagine my surprise last week when I phoned my Internet provider for tech support and was basically told to shut up and reboot.

I'd finished my endless list of chores one evening and gotten Allyson in bed early, so I figured it was the perfect time to install those parental controls I'd been thinking about. I wanted to restrict access to inappropriate sites and also to limit Ethan's browsing time. I found the instructions I needed on the provider's website, downloaded the necessary program, and installed the program all within ten minutes. Wow, that was easy!

And then a login screen came up, asking for my account ID and password. What's an account ID, I wondered? It had to be my email and email password, I reasoned. I entered those three times, but kept seeing a message that the login had failed. I went onto the provider's website and verified that I could log in there. I tried to search their knowledge base to see what an account ID might be, but any time I left the main page, an error message informed me that parental controls had been activated, and I did not have access to this site. Next, I tried to Google the problem, but the same error message came up. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

I dug out my latest bill and located the tech support number. A friendly computerized voice greeted me. He didn't introduce himself, but to me he seemed like a Bob. Bob gave me a long list of menu items, none of which seemed to fit my problem. After following several rabbit trails, I kept repeating "operator" until Bob said, "It sounds like you want to speak to an operator. Is that correct?"

"Yes!" I shouted.

"One moment while I transfer your call."

I heard a click, some silence, and then a dial tone. Argh!!

I dialed again, explained my problem again, and ended up in the tech support queue at last. Bob cheerfully informed me that due to unusually high call volume, the estimated wait time was 45 minutes. "Perhaps you can hang up and try our online knowledge base," he suggested.

"That's a great idea, Bob... IF I COULD GET ON THE INTERNET!"

While I waited, Bob offered one totally irrelevant suggestion after another. And then he asked me a question to see if I was listening. "Often, rebooting your computer will resolve the problem. Have you tried rebooting?"

I groaned. "No, because-"

"It sounds like you have not rebooted your PC. Please reboot your PC and call back if that does not resolve the problem."

"No! I don't need to reboot. It automatically rebooted when I installed the-"

"Thank you for calling."

Click.

Oh, was I mad! I'd just been told to shut up and reboot by a COMPUTER! And then it hung up on me!

I dialed back in with trembling fingers and snapped at the ever cheerful Bob when he answered. "Have you rebooted your PC?" he asked.

"Operator!" I shrieked. "I want to speak to a freakin' operator."

Just as I was yelling at a computer over the phone, Ethan walked in and eyed me quizzically. "Who are you talking to?"

I held a finger to my lips, straining to hear Bob. "It sounds like you want to speak to an operator. Is that correct?"

"Yes!" I hollered.

"One moment while I transfer your call. The estimated wait time is... five... minutes."

I grinned. Apparently Bob had some sort of programming that analyzed the caller's mood. He must have detected the rage in my voice and bumped me to the head of the line. Awesome!

Turns out, he was just lying to appease me. The wait was more like 30 minutes. While I waited, I sheepishly explained to Ethan that I had just installed parental controls on the computer and had locked myself out of the Internet. He snickered.

"I'm not sensing a lot of compassion from you," I said.

"Nope."

After listening to ten more of Bob's inane suggestions, I finally got to talk to a live body, a girl named Cherise. Talking to her felt a lot like talking to Bob; she was clearly following a branched script. I breathed deeply and willed my pulse to slow down.

At last I was able to make Cherise understand the problem, though I was pretty sure she didn't believe me about using the correct password. (I have to admit, had I been in her shoes, I probably wouldn't have believed it either.)

She tried several things with no success, including resetting my password--which, incidentally, Bob had already done for me while I was waiting. Then she ran across a solution that sounded promising: she walked me through finding the parental controls program on my hard drive and uninstalling. But the dreaded login screen reappeared, and it still would not accept my user ID and password.

We rebooted for good measure, and then she reset my password again, and then we were able to uninstall the program. Here's where it got stupid. I agreed to let her walk me through reinstalling it. Initially, I was able to log in with my email and password. I thanked Cherise profusely and started configuring the controls.

I set up a sub account for Ethan with a browsing curfew of 11 P.M. on weeknights and 2 A.M. on weekends.

"What?? Why do I have a curfew on the weekend? " 

"Well, you don't need to stay up all night playing games online," I said.

"I don't stay up past 2," he protested.

"Good, then you won't have a problem with the curfew," I said. "Now what user ID do you want?"

"Slave," he said flatly.

I swiveled in my chair so he could see my raised eyebrow. "Slave? That's the user ID you want?"

"Yes, 'cause that's what I am."

I pressed my lips together to hold in the laughter. "What password do you want?"

"Slave1."

"Slave1? Really?"

"Yep."

"That's not a very strong password," I said, choking on my laughter.

"It's fine." Ethan was not amused.

"You do realize how embarrassing it's going to be if I have to call tech support, and they see my child is set up as Slave?"

Ethan chuckled in spite of himself. "Good."

I completed the setups and logged out. When I brought the browser window back up to test it out, I saw that "Slave" was now the default. I entered the password, Slave1.

"Login failed."

I tried it again. Slave, Slave1.

"Login failed."

With a sinking feeling, I tried my own ID and password.

"Login failed."

No!!!!

Ethan laughed out loud.

By this time it was 11:30, and there was no way I was up for another skirmish with Bob. So I did some more deep breathing and went to bed.

The next day, I rebooted and tried again. Wow, Bob was right about rebooting! Now the password was accepted. I immediately uninstalled the parental controls.

I don't know who's more relieved: me, or my Slave.

Allyson's Little Joys

Over the last couple of months, I've had some really deep pain at times, but lots of joy also. It started with random moments of happiness that caught me by surprise, and then days of contentment and peace with some laughter thrown in here and there. Sometimes I'm so happy for so many days in a row that I think I'm surely over the hard part, but then something brings the pain back to the surface, all the more hurtful in contrast with the joy that preceded it.

By far, my children bring me the greatest joy. I don't take anything for granted any longer, and my priorities are completely changed. As a result, I'm spending much more one-on-one time with Ethan and Allyson, and much more family time with the three of us. It's amazing and wonderful how quickly we are reaping the benefits.

I know Allyson's heart was broken right along with mine, but she continues to inspire me with her energy, her passion, and her way of finding joy in the simplest things. Here are just a few of the things that have made her happy recently...

Losing another tooth, and bringing it home in a tooth necklace. (One of her teachers pulled it!):

And another one, at the hands of the same teacher:

 

 

Lining up her favorite stuffed animals to serve as backup singers for a concert. See the pink rabbit, hanging by one foot from some stolen double-sided sticky tape? 

 

 

 

She sang and danced for me. So graceful in her outgrown tutu! (Man, I miss that gorgeous hair!)

 



 

 

Like her nana, she loves to entertain. When Grandma and Aunt Amy came over for game night, she wrote out name cards and menus for each of us, and earnestly took our orders.

 

I saved the best for last. Here she is with her beloved WatchD.O.G. (Dads of Great Students). She was so proud last week when Daddy volunteered at her school. The two of them got to help with morning announcements, and then he helped with a math game in her classroom.

How can I help but be happy, living with such sweetness?

Allyson's New Look

For today's entry, I'm going to post an interview with my six-year-old daughter Allyson about her new hairstyle. After strongly rejecting all my previous suggestions of cutting her long hair (because I have absolutely no hair styling skills), she abruptly announced a couple of weeks ago that she wanted to get a bob cut. I waited long enough to make sure she wouldn't change her mind, and then this past Friday we went to the kids' haircut place....

What made you decide to cut your hair after all this time?
I don't know. I just wanted to. I think I can put more stuff (like bows and hairbands) in it when it's short.

Were you scared about cutting off your long hair?
Sorta.

How about when you were sitting in the stylist's chair? Were you scared, or excited?
Sorta in the middle.

What was your favorite part of the experience?
When they said, "Wow! Your hair is so long and thick."

Allyson on the Morning of the Big Day

Did you enjoy the shampooing?
It was cool having them wash my hair. I couldn't even feel that it was wet.

Was it hard to sit still and keep your head straight during the haircut?
Yes. Actually, really hard. I was sorta worried it would be crooked.

Allyson Under Cheryl's Expert Care

What did you talk about during the cut?
Most of the time I couldn't open my mouth [because she had to keep her chin on her chest]. But we talked about the movie Tangled, which I was watching. She said her favorite character was the horse. My favorite was Flynn Rider.

How did you like the final result?
I think it looked more me than having it long. I LOVE it.

What's your favorite, the front or the back?
I love the swoop on the front. (A little tapered section, like long bangs.)

Is it the length you wanted it?
It's a little shorter than I thought it would be, but I like it that way.

Is it hard to take care of?
It's easier than it was, but still a little hard with the styling.

How does your hairstyle make you feel?
I feel like an older girl. I think everyone will like it.

Are you excited about going to school tomorrow?
Very excited. I cannot wait.

Is there anything else you'd like to say about the experience?
I was amazed at how much hair there was on the floor.

Well, there you have it. It's been fun watching Allyson preening, just as I did when I got my own new look last July.

Update: Allyson asked me to add a question for myself:

Allyson: Did you like my hair better than before?
Me: Yes! I think you look absolutely gorgeous, princess.

It's Like God Sent Them to Us

Okay, here's the happy story I've been saving for about two weeks now...

On Wednesday the 9th, I was feeling pretty blue on the way to the office, so I called my dear friend Gentle, who never fails to lift my spirits. Sure enough, she had many encouraging words, including a scripture she'd found during her Bible study that morning. She said she thought of me when she read it, and she prayed it over me. Here was the verse:

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)

In that moment, I felt pretty courageous. But with the distractions of work, I soon forgot about the verse. While I was driving home, Gentle called and told me she had a surprise for me, something she'd made. She was laughing with delight, but she wouldn't give me even a hint of what it was. Of course, I swung by her house immediately.

Here's what I found:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.

My eyes filled with tears when I saw the plaque she had hand lettered in beautiful colors. Just that morning, I'd mentioned being moved by the Serenity Prayer at Celebrate Recovery, and she wanted me to have a daily reminder. So she just whipped out this little masterpiece! (It's now hanging over my desk, so I can look at it all during my work day.)

I was in high spirits when I brought Allyson home from school. As usual, Allyson scampered to the mailbox. "What are these?" she asked, holding out two cardboard cylinders.

"I don't know," I said. "I didn't order anything. Hmm... But these do have my name on them." After a moment's thought, I concluded that they must be some sort of inspirational posters from work, nothing to get excited about--not that I don't need inspiration, mind you.

Inside, we threw everything on the floor and went straight to the kitchen table with the tubes. "Open them, Mama!" Allyson said. I was already struggling to pry the lid off of the first canister.

Inside was a wall decal imprinted with a scripture. Can you guess what it said? I bet you can. Yep, it was another sacred echo, the coolest yet!

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)

Of course, I thought of Gentle. I initially thought this was the same verse she'd read me that morning, but then I realized that her verse was from Deuteronomy, while this one was from Joshua. Still, Gentle knew I wanted to plaster my walls with scriptures, and this was just the sort of thing she would do.

I fired off a text: "Did you send me scripture decals? I got two. One is the verse about being strong and courageous."

Her answer set my heart thudding. "No!!"

What were the odds that God would lay a verse on Gentle's heart for me in the morning, and on the very same afternoon the same message would mysteriously land in my mailbox? I'm thinking God really wants me to get the message: Don't be afraid! I'm always with you!

Allyson and I practically danced a jig with excitement. "Who could have sent them?" I said over and over.

"It's kind of nice not knowing," Allyson said. "That way it's like God sent them to us."

"Well, I'm sure He did, honey."

When I opened the second canister, I had an idea who my angel might be; over breakfast the previous Saturday, I'd told my friend Jenny that the first verse I wanted to put up in my house was Joshua 24:15.

I emailed Jenny, and she fessed up. What an incredible gift! I will feel both her love and God's every time I look at those scriptures.

Here's the ironic thing. After reading the meticulous directions, I was decidedly un-courageous about putting them up on the wall. One wrong move, and a decal could be wrecked. So I called for reinforcements. Gentle has lots of experience with wall decals, and she was happy to help--okay, to do it all while I stood by and prayed that the letters would stick.

Gentle and Her Helper

I think it took almost an hour. The end result was flawless:

I'd like to conclude with the full Serenity Prayer. Previously, I'd been familiar with only the first part. I love every word of it, and I'm trusting God to help me put it into practice.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever and ever in the next.
Amen.
(Emphasis added... the parts that make me cry)

Who's In the Mood for IHOP?

For months and months, I haven't had a lot to say to you. It just seemed that nothing blog-worthy was happening to me, probably because my sense of humor seemed to have departed. It's been a rough few weeks, yet now the blog stories are starting to stack up in my head like they used to. Only now I don't have time to write them. Tonight I'd planned to tell you a particularly wonderful and amazing story that I've been saving up for over a week, but something else happened that I just have to share....

This evening I met four girlfriends for a birthday celebration. We met at Brio, a great Italian restaurant where we talked and laughed and ate way too much, and then laughed some more.

Afterward, we walked over to the theatre next door. When Fran stepped up to the counter, she cheerfully said, "One senior ticket for... which movie are we seeing?" [Senior moment?]

We all laughed. "Parental Guidance," we chorused.

"That'll be six dollars," the teenage clerk said. "That's a discount of three dollars. There are perks to being a senior!"

"Yes," Fran agreed.

"Hey, you should go to IHOP [International House of Pancakes]. They've got great senior discounts there."

Fran nodded, barely able to contain her laughter. When I stepped up to the window, I heard roars of laughter as Fran repeated the conversation. Laughing, I asked for a senior ticket, too.

The boy didn't laugh. "That'll be six dollars," he said, sliding the ticket through the slot.

My grin faltered. "Hey, I'm not a senior! I was joking."

He shrugged. "I'd say take the ticket and run," he answered. And then he said something about IHOP, which made me wonder if he thought I was lying about not being a senior.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I laughed. And then I laughed again while I repeated the whole conversation to the girls.

The movie was really, really good. It was funny and sweet and touching. When it was over we sat there for a minute, talking about our favorite parts. "It's too early to go home," Joanne said. "We should stay out."

"What time is it?" asked Fran.

"About 9:15."

"That's 10 minutes past my bedtime," Fran said.

"Since we're seniors," Rhonda said, "We should go to IHOP."

"Fran, you'll have to share your senior discount with us," Leisa said.

"You too, Sarah!" Rhonda said.

We laughed all the way to the car. And I smiled all the way home.

It's Sleeting Styrofoam Balls!

Remember that time I mistook a Kix cereal ball on my living room floor for a hailstone? Well, I made a similarly ridiculous mistake the other morning. As Allyson and I raced out on our daily dash to school Monday, I shuddered at the cold. The temp had dropped to a frigid 29 degrees (-2 Celsius) overnight, most unusual for our area.

It wasn't until I'd careened out of the driveway that I noticed a most perplexing sight. Stacked on top of both windshield wipers were precariously balanced piles of tiny, perfectly uniform white balls. I squinted at them as I rounded the corner. A few pieces lost their balance, carried away on the wind. Weren't those... Styrofoam balls? The kind you see in packing material? But how? Why? Who?

It had to be one of Ethan's friends playing a trick, I concluded. What a bizarre prank!

"Look at those little Styrofoam balls!" I exclaimed. "I wonder who put them there."

"What balls?" Allyson asked, from the backseat. "Oh, I see them. Weird!"

As we waited at the stoplight next to the school--seven minutes till the bell and counting--I glanced at the cars ahead, trying to guage whether we'd make the next light or whether Allyson would be tardy. I leaned forward when I saw something familiar on the truck in front of me: a faint trail of white lining the cracks in the rear bumper.

For a fraction of a section I marveled at the coincidence. Two neighborhood vehicles targeted in a Styrofoam prank! No, wait a minute. Weren't there balls on the windshield of that white SUV next to me, too?

The light finally dawned in my sleepy, addled mind.  "Sleet!" I said as the light turned green and I fought the instinct to gun it through the school zone. I shook my head in disbelief, pressing my lips together in a sheepish smile. Sometimes I wonder about myself!

"What's sleet?" Allyson asked. "Oh, is it like hail?"

"Yes, only smaller. But I've never seen such perfect balls of sleet before. They're usually slushy and stuck together."

By the time I dropped Allyson off and pulled into the line out of the parking lot--with two minutes to spare, woo-hoo!--the tiny balls had started to melt into slush:

But I found these perfect specimens on top of the trash bin back at home:

The little balls were everywhere, actually: on the roof, the grass, the bushes. I was surprised I had missed them on the way out.

Chances are you're wondering why I would get so excited about a bit of sleet. Well, we don't get much frozen precipitation around here. So you can imagine how excited we were the next day when we woke up to this:

Ethan would have been even more excited if there'd been no school for the day, but no such luck. Sure was pretty while it lasted.

Vancouver Visit and Family Pasta Night

In my last entry, I mentioned that I've been saving up some happy stories to share. Here they are...

Vancouver 2012
On Christmas day we went for what will most likely be our last family vacation, and probably my last trip to Vancouver as well. For that reason, the whole experience was very bittersweet.

We had a rough start as our plane was initially delayed by about 20 minutes, during which time snow started falling thickly. "Ooh! Look at the pretty snow!" Allyson and I exclaimed. (We don't get much snow in Texas.)

We wouldn't have been so excited had we known that that snow would cause us about a six-hour delay. First, we waited interminably for de-icing. Just when we were next in line, a flight attendant announced that we were returning to the gate. Due to a federal law passed to "protect our comfort," we could not remain on the tarmac more than 2.5 hours. "Merry Christmas," she said wryly.

So we sat at the gate another hour or so while they figured out what to do next. While we ate federally mandated cookies and had a sip of federally mandated water, the flight attendant explained that most of us would probably miss our connections in Seattle, and there was no guarantee we could get a later flight. She cheerfully added that there was no guarantee that we could get a flight the next day, either. And the airlines was not going to pay for accommodations in Seattle since the snow was not their fault. (They conveniently forgot that we would have missed the snow had we departed on time.) Also, if we were to exceed the 2.5 hour maximum wait again, our flight would be canceled. "Merry Christmas," she concluded. About a third of the passengers disembarked, including my seatmate. Sweet! Now it was just me and Ethan in the back row, right across from the toilets that were probably near to overflowing by the end of our ordeal.

We decided to take our chances and stay on the plane. About two hours later,  we were de-iced and in the air! And after about ten hours on the plane, we arrived in Seattle. When we landed, we found we'd been automatically booked on the 11 P.M. flight, about three hours later. But Bill's dad had driven down to pick us up, so we claimed our luggage and climbed in the car for a 2.5-hour drive. I think we all preferred that to boarding another plane.

So we arrived at the house shortly before midnight. Despite the late hour, we sat down for Mom's customary soup and sandwiches. Delicious!

The rest of the trip went much better. The highlight for me was an 85-minute massage at the Harrison Hot Springs Resort, compliments of Mom. This was a wonderful blessing as I'd been longing for a massage for months. I also greatly enjoyed soaking in the hot pools, which were heated by the local hot springs.

Or maybe the highlight was playing cards and dominoes with Bill's family--especially when I beat them all on New Year's Eve.

For the  kids the best part was probably skiing at Hemlock Mountain, where Allyson had her first lesson. She had the 16-year-old instructor all to herself, and he did a great job with her. It must have been rather harrowing for him to ski behind her on the tow rope; she usually ended up sliding backward when she got off, and he had to catch her before she knocked all the other beginners down like dominoes.

 

Looks Like She's Playing Twister

Practicing Her "Pizza" Stance

At the end of 1.5 hours, the instructor pronounced her ready for the easiest chair lift, and Bill bravely took her up. He said she got off the chair easily enough, and then she took off down the mountain at breakneck speed. I guess she forgot her pizza and went with french fries instead. Daddy had told her to sit down if she couldn't stop, so she tried to sit but ended up in a tuck position and went even faster. At last she fell, flipped, and got a face full of snow. (That's the way she tells it, anyway. Bill says it wasn't such a bad fall.)

She'd made it about a third of the way down the slope, but now she was spooked. It took 30 minutes or so to go the rest of the way down because she'd ski about six feet and then make herself fall down. But they finally made it to the bottom, all in one piece.

Allyson's cousin James learned to ski also. Trevor pushed him up the bunny slope over and over, and he fearlessly skied down. For the next day or two, he kept saying, "I love to ski."

James (Age 4) and Bill's Brother Trevor

I'm told Ethan has now totally mastered snowboarding, but I never got to see him this time. I wish I had a picture to share.

We also went walking along the sea wall at White Rock Beach. The kids enjoyed looking for crabs and shells.

Katie, Allyson, James

Katie and Allyson

Mom limited each child to two shells. "Can I keep one, too?" I asked. She smiled and nodded. I had found a lovely purple clam shell. I brought it home as a reminder that--for a clam, at least--a painful bit of sand results in the iridescent beauty of a pearl. I pray beauty comes out of my pain as well.

As always, there was one sumptuous meal after another, plus all our favorite treats, including way too much shortbread. I gained five much-needed pounds while I was there. I also caught up on my sleep. One morning I even slept until 11! I don't remember the last time I slept that late.

I have to share one more airport misadventure that occurred when we landed in Dallas. As we exited the Jetway, I stopped and bent over to put some books into my carry-on bag. I didn't notice that the man ahead of me had stopped also and was bending over to put something in his bag. Nor did I notice that he had about three inches of pasty white butt crack sticking out of the top of his sagging jeans. So when I stood back up, I very nearly put my nose where the sun don't shine! I all but yelped as I backed away. Bill caught my eye, and we both cracked up, so to speak. It felt good to laugh with him.

Family Pasta Night
The night after our return, Allyson and I went over to Uncle Rick's for what I hope was the first of many Family Pasta Nights. Rick and Mindy had prepared the dough ahead of time, and I helped knead it. Then we passed it through all six settings on Mindy's new pasta roller. Allyson manned the crank, and the rest of us took turns feeding the dough in and catching it as it came out.

Here's how it looked on the first setting:

By the last setting, it was 10 or 12 feet long!

Rick, Mindy, and Rick's Friend Dave

Here's how it looked after we cut it into segments and ran it through the cutter attachment: 

We served it with Gorgonzola walnut Alfredo sauce and roasted kale. For dessert we had Purdy's chocolates from Bill's mom. It was all unbelievably delicious, better than a fancy restaurant!

It's Still Being Written

I have a couple of happy stories stored up to tell you, but I'm going to save those for another day. One of them is about our annual trip to Vancouver, which was both better than I expected and harder than I anticipated. But I don't have custody of the camera, and I want to share the pictures with the story.

Tonight, I want to share my heart with you. It's been a tough, tough day. A relapse day, when I've wanted to pick up the reins again instead of trusting God with my future. Today I've been thinking that I really can't be happy unless my life turns out the way I wanted it to, the way I thought it would. I've been thinking that God's love is really not enough to satisfy me. Oh, I know all the verses about God giving me a hope and a future, and all things working together for my good, and the plan He's had for me since before I was born. But my heart isn't listening. I just feel heavy, broken, empty.

So it's a good thing that I had my first Celebrate Recovery session tonight. There I met a lot of messed up people, just like me. But the good news is that they are celebrating recovery. The first principle of recovery is exactly what I need at this moment:

• Realize I’m not God; I admit that I am powerless to control my tendency to do the wrong thing and that my life is unmanageable. (Step 1)
  “Happy are those who know that they are spiritually poor.”

And the third, even more:

• Consciously choose to commit all my life and will to Christ’s care and control. (Step 3)
  “Happy are the meek.”

On the drive home, I remembered an experience I had on the plane home from Vancouver last Thursday. I'd been feeling sorry for myself, fighting tears, when I suddenly thought about the mercy God has shown me over the last 12 years, and how I'm not the woman I was back then. I wrote a letter to God, thanking Him for the experiences and people He brought into my life, always at just the right time. I thanked him for leading me to Psalm 139 in a hotel room, for connecting me with the Thursday Group, for helping me push past my awkwardness and grow a friendship with Gentle, and for bringing Laura to me.

And then I realized something so important: No, I'm not the woman I once was. And I'm also not the woman I'm going to be. Here's what I wrote about that:

I thought the testimony I shared at MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) was so beautiful, how you worked in all things for my good, even in my sin. I don't know if I would have ever known my need for a savior if I hadn't come into such shame....  

The last seven months have been such agony for me. I'm suffering still.... Even though I've wavered in my faith many times, I feel much closer to you than ever before. I realize my desperate need for a savior, a redeemer.

I know my testimony is still being written. This is hard mercy! But I know you are merciful. You are removing everything I don't need out of my life. When I come out of this trial, I'll be a different woman. I'll have such compassion. I'll be able to love even more. You will use my pain to minister to others who are suffering. Your glory will be revealed in me. It will be worth every tear, every sleepless night. 

And I know there will be joy for me. I have no idea what that will look like, but I will laugh and dance for joy. One day I will look back on this time and see your hand at work. I will know why it was necessary for me to hurt so much.

I don't know why I felt compelled to share this with you tonight. But I look forward to the day when I'll post a link back to this entry and say, "See how God used this suffering for my good."

Please pray for me. Pray that I will surrender to His will and find the rest and peace that comes from obedience. And pray that He will continue to make His love real to me.