Dennis! Oh, Dennis!

Over the last few months, I've been ridiculously scatterbrained. For example, there was the time a few weeks ago when I dropped my boarding pass three times before my return flight from Portland--and then dropped my keys in the park that same afternoon. (Thankfully, a kind citizen saw the YMCA key fob and returned them to my gym.)

And then there was this past Monday. Because I know I'm prone to forget my keys when I leave the house, I have a longstanding habit of checking my purse and verifying, aloud, "Got my keys." That's exactly what I did before I left to pick up Allyson. Keys in hand, I pivoted in my tracks when my stomach growled savagely. A quick glance at the stove clock told me I had time to grab the heel from a freshly baked loaf of whole wheat bread (from fresh ground flour, of course). I tried to wrestle open the bread canister with one hand but finally gave up and set the keys down so I could release the four locks. After an agonizingly slow squirt of ridiculously thick honey, I grabbed my purse and the bread and ran for the door, twisting the lock and slamming it behind me.

At the car, I realized the keys were missing and gave an exasperated groan as I fished through the inner zipper compartment of my purse for my car's valet key. Yes! No need to sprint a mile to Allyson's school and get the bad mother of the week award for being 15 minutes late. (Yes, it would take me at least that long to "sprint" a mile. Cardio just isn't my thing.)

I ran a few errands, trying to kill time until Ethan came home, but it turned out he had band practice after school. Not that he would have been much help. Too bad he'd lost his house key just a few days before. And too bad the last working garage door opener had quit just two weeks earlier, and both doors were firmly locked. But surely one of the back doors would be open.... Nope.

I thought back to the time Bill had been locked out. "Didn't Daddy climb through Ethan's window?" I asked Allyson. "How did he get up there?"

"Maybe a ladder," she said.

"No, the ladder's in the garage."

"I dunno."

"If he found a way up, so can I."

I dragged the picnic table under Ethan's window and retrieved a metal chair from the shed.

"Shouldn't you just call Daddy?" Allyson asked. "You might fall and get hurt."

"I'm not asking Daddy for help." I climbed up onto the quite sturdy table and then onto the chair. Gripping two of the horizontal supports of the pergola, I gingerly lifted one foot onto the left arm. The chair just about flipped, and I had to jump back onto the seat. Undaunted, I did a partial pull-up on the pergola and jumped my feet onto both arms at the same time. Nope, way too wobbly to be any help. I climbed back down and thought hard. Maybe if I stacked all four chairs, they would be more stable. Certainly they would make a taller tower.

I dragged the other chairs out from the shed, one by one, and stacked them on the table top. Once I'd caught my breath, I sighed with satisfaction. Much sturdier! I found I could easily balance on the arms of the top chair, but it was a lot harder than I expected to shimmy onto the pergola. The beams were too close together, and way off center compared to the chairs. And they were kind of splintery. I wished I had weight-lifting gloves.

Slowly, slowly I pulled myself up, careful to put weight only on the support beams and not on the netting between them. Allyson, who evidently wasn't that worried about my safety, called from the swing set. "Ha, ha! You're flopping like a fish."

"Uh huh." Grunting, I pulled myself onto my stomach and wiggled my legs up behind me. Sweating now in my fleece jacket, I lay spread-eagle for a moment atop the beams, glancing over my shoulder to the corner of the overhang under Ethan's window. I hadn't realized it was so steep! But I'd come too far to stop now, plus I wasn't entirely sure how to get back down. So I pulled up onto my knees, distributing my weight between two beams--and getting my very first knee splinter, I later discovered.

I carefully maneuvered myself into a squat and then grabbed the corner of the roof as I eased over onto the shingles. I then found I could not stand, let alone walk; my worn walking shoes scrabbled over the surprisingly slick asphalt. So I rested on my left hip, clutching the corner of the roof with one hand and wrestling with the screen with the other.

After breaking three nails without getting the screen loose, I was thinking of aborting the mission--until Allyson called out, "Mama, you're not a boy!"

"Girls can climb, too," I said, just as one corner of the screen pulled free. "Got it!"

I pressed my sweaty palm against the glass and tried to slide it to the right. It didn't budge. What? Surely it couldn't be locked. Ethan's window had been open for a couple of days, up until the latest cold snap, anyway. But surely he'd be too lazy to lock it.

"Find my phone, Allyson," I hollered. "Call Ethan and ask if his window is locked. I'm not getting down until I'm sure it's locked."

As she fumbled with the phone, it dawned on me that I wasn't getting down at all. The roof was way too steep, and I didn't think I could get onto the pergola and back down on that stack of chairs without seeing what I was doing. To make matters worse, my butt was burning. Who knew that shingles could get so hot when it was only in the 60s? I shifted to my knees, carefully shed my jacket, and threw it on the patio.

Just then I saw the neighbor's white truck pull into the driveway behind our house. I heard the door open but couldn't see over the hedge. "Dennis!" I hollered. "Dennis-Dennis-Dennis!"

No answer. Surely he could hear me. I took a deep breath and screamed myself hoarse, "DENNISSS!" Now the whole neighborhood could hear me. Everyone but Dennis. I hollered again.

A tiny voice answered. "It's Leticia."

"Oh. This is Sarah. Do you have a ladder? I'm stuck on the roof."

God bless her, Leticia didn't ask any questions or express any surprise. "I'll be right over," she said. Two minutes later, Allyson let her into the gate with her extension ladder.

She extended it and leaned it against the overhang, right at my feet. "Come on down," she said.

"Let's try to get Ethan first," I said. "I want to make sure this window really is locked." I then walked Leticia through finding Ethan in my contacts, which was about as hard as climbing up onto the roof had been. I'm about the last person left on earth who doesn't have a smart phone. (Even my mom has an iPhone!) At last she and Allyson figured it out, but it went straight to voicemail.

I was pretty scared to climb down, but Leticia calmly talked me through climbing down to squat on the pergola and then sidestep onto the ladder. I descended on shaky legs.

Safely on the ground, I finally got ahold of Ethan, only to learn that yes, he had locked the window and no, he still hadn't found his house key.

"Call Daddy," Allyson urged for perhaps the tenth time.

"Oh-kayyy!"

I humbly explained the situation to Bill, who was just as gracious as Leticia had been. "I'm still at work," he said. "It'll be at least 30 minutes."

"I'm sorry," I said, on the verge of tears. "I'm just being... me."

"What can you do?" Bill answered. "It's no big deal."

The last bit of the adventure was returning the ladder, which we could not figure out how to collapse. I convinced Ethan to carry it for me, but he was inexplicably humiliated over carrying a 12-foot ladder in public. As I lifted my hand to knock on the door, he hissed, "Wait! I don't want them to see me."

I shrugged as he disappeared back around the corner. He has no idea what embarrassing is, I thought. He should try sitting on the roof and shouting "Dennis!"

Oh well. It could have been a lot worse. The only thing bruised is my pride.

P.S. Yes, I am getting two extra keys made and hiding one in a safe place.

In Safe Hands

On Wednesday my whole family drove to Broken Bow, Oklahoma, to spend three days in a giant cabin. I'll share more about our time there later as I hope to bum some pictures off my siblings. In the meantime, I'd like to tell you about something that happened while we were there...

On the 4.5-hour drive up, we passed lots of trucks loaded down with tons and tons of giant logs. As we marveled over the massive weight of these loads traveling at 70+ miles per hour on the two-lane country highway, Ethan just had to bring up a scene from Final Destination, a movie about a group of teens who narrowly escape death in a plane crash only to be relentlessly pursued by Death in various freak accidents.

"Remember the scene with the logging truck?" Ethan asked.

"Oh yeah," his friend Clayton answered. "A log broke loose and went right through a car."

"It impaled the driver," Ethan added eagerly.

I shuddered. "Let's talk about something else."

A Similar Logging Truck

Thankfully, our trip was uneventful, though I did get pretty scared on the ridiculously steep gravel road up to the cabin. As we bounced over and around deep craters, my little Sentra careened all over the narrow road. "Give it some gas," Clayton urged when the car started sliding backward and spewing rocks. "Lots of gas."

I pushed the pedal to the floor, and the tires spun out repeatedly, but we finally made it up. I breathed a sigh of relief as we reached our final destination.

The next afternoon, most of us caravaned out to Beavers Bend State Park for hiking and fishing. Accompanied by Ethan, Clayton, and my niece Hillary, I gingerly descended the gravel hill behind my sister Emily's Ford Expedition SUV, which was loaded down with Allyson and her cousins.

We'd scarcely turned back onto the two-lane highway when we spotted another logging truck in the distance behind us. Ethan made some comment about Final Destination, and I said, "What if we all had to slam on the brakes, and some logs came flying at us?" I dont' know why we thought that was funny, but we all chuckled over it.

Maybe a minute later, I pulled to a stop behind the Expedition, waiting to turn left into what we thought was the state park. (It was actually a couple miles farther.) The highway was surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, and I tapped my foot impatiently as car after car flew by in the oncoming lane.

A blaring truck horn soon changed my annoyance to indignation; a trucker coming up behind us sounded his horn over and over. "How rude!" I thought. "We have a right to turn. He can wait."

The relentless horn blasts continued, gaining volume as the truck approached. I didn't really have time to think about it, but gradually I perceived that this was not road rage. I looked into the rear-view mirror just in time to see that logging truck bearing down on me, horn still blaring. Realization dawned at last. "He can't stop!"

My heart thudded as the truck grew larger, but I felt frozen to the spot, the way you feel in a bad dream when something's coming after you and you can't run. I hesitated for a fraction of a second more, then simultaneously jerked the wheel all the way to the right and jammed the gas pedal to the floor. The Sentra's petite engine roared as the car lurched forward, seemingly in slow motion.

At that same moment, a break in traffic came, and Emily's husband Paul started his left turn just as I surged around them toward the right shoulder, narrowly missing the right corner of their bumper. The logging truck rolled slowly on, passing between our two vehicles and on down the road.

My whole body shook as I drove to a parking lot where I could turn around. "Do you realize what almost happened to us?" I asked. "We just about got smashed like a tin can."

"Nah," Clayton said. "That truck was going pretty slow. It would've just pushed us forward."

"I don't think it mattered how fast it was going," I argued. "With a load that heavy, we would've been crushed between the truck and Emily's Expedition."

By the time we reached the actual state park, my heartbeat had returned to normal, and we were joking about the incident.

"Without my lightning-fast reflexes and the Sentra's hair-trigger responsiveness we would have been smashed for sure," I said. "Or maybe it would have been just Hillary and Clayton. As long as Ethan and I are safe, that's the main thing." But a moment later, I said, "No, I don't have fast reflexes. My reaction was very slow. God must have been protecting us."

Just then, we started over a long bridge over a dam. "Remember that scene in Final Destination 5 where the bridge-", Ethan began.

I held up my hand. "Enough with the Final Destination talk."

That evening when I shared the story with the rest of the family, everyone agreed that all 12 of us in both vehicles were lucky to be alive. Emily and Paul (and Allyson!) had only been saved by the timing of their turn. Like me, they'd heard the horn without realizing the truck driver couldn't stop.

"What a terrible vacation this could have been," Mom said soberly.

On the way home the next day (yesterday), I began to wonder if there might be something to this Final Destination thing. After seeing an electronic highway sign warning of a backup, I had exited the interstate, and my navigator--the same navigator that once tried to kill us by leading us to into a seedy part of Memphis late at night--was leading us on a merry chase through some scary parts of downtown Dallas.

At one point we had to stop at a green light as a fire truck turned in front of us. Eager to make up lost time, I proceeded into the intersection even though I wondered why the car in the next lane wasn't moving.

"Wait, Mama! There's another one," Allyson said.

I stomped the brake, stopping in the middle of the intersection. Sure enough, another fire truck was barreling toward us, but thanks to Allyson's quick thinking, it passed safely around us. I'd heard the siren, but I thought it was the first truck.

"Man, we were just about T-boned by a speeding fire truck," I said. I pointed at Ethan. "You and Clayton would've been smashed."

Ethan shrugged.

Well, since trouble tends to come in threes, I shouldn't have been surprised this afternoon when Death made another attempt, again while I was driving. This time I was driving Ethan to his dad's house when I idly noted that the pickup truck ahead of us had a large pillow-top mattress in its bed. Now, I've had a mortal fear of mattresses ever since my teenage years, when our vacuum cleaner salesman was killed in a freak accident involving a flying mattress on the highway. So I've always given vehicles with mattresses a wide berth.

But today I was lost in thought, my mind on heavy things, and I didn't give the truck a second thought even though the mattress wasn't tied down. Normally I'm in a hurry while driving; I always go with the flow of traffic, even if that's over the limit. But today, I guess I was thinking too much to be in a hurry. So as we sped up for a major highway interchange, I lagged behind that truck with the mattress, about a football field or maybe a bit more.

Just as the driver reached the junction with the other highway, the wind caught the mattress, and it came tumbling at us, end over end, borne aloft like a napkin on the wind. I caught my breath sharply, hitting the brake and moving to the right. The mattress thudded to a stop about 100 feet ahead of us, and a couple of cars behind us swerved to miss it, passing in front of us.

My hand flew to my heart. "What IS it with this Final Destination stuff?" I asked. This time I wasn't kidding. I was really spooked. "Three near misses three days in a row. That's creepy."

Ethan pulled his iPod headphones off and shrugged. "I don't know," he said.

I glanced heavenward. "Thank you, Jesus!"

Ethan put his headphones back on, and I was alone with my thoughts again. As my heart returned to normal, peace washed over me. I pictured myself cradled in God's giant hand as danger swirled harmlessly around me. In that moment, I realized death has no power over me! Nothing comes against me without God's permission. Nothing. He has ordained all of my days, including the last one. One day when He's ready to bring me home and let me see Him face to face, I will go to meet Him--and not a day sooner.

For the rest of the day, I've rested in the security of that truth. Lately I've felt so out of control, with all kinds of things coming at me that I don't want and can't change. This morning I had been struggling with my own emotions, battered back and forth like that flying mattress. But I realize now that I don't have to be so unsettled. God loves me, and He is always in control. No matter what threatens me--physically, emotionally, or spiritually--I am always safe in His hands. There's no place I'd rather be.

P.S. This evening I learned that I wasn't the only one who had a near miss on the way home from Oklahoma. My sister Amy, traveling with Mom and Dad, was caravaning behind Paul and Emily when both of their vehicles almost got into a horrific accident involving two semi trucks and two other cars, plus one reckless driver, all travelling about 70 miles per hour. God had his hand on them all.

P.S.S. Do you think we should all stop caravaning behind Paul?

An Ecstatic Cowgirl

Last night was Allyson's long-awaited Daddy Daughter Date, a western themed night of food, fun, and... line dancing! I have to admit that I'm pretty impressed Bill agreed to go. To my knowledge it was his first time to wear a cowboy hat even after12 years living in Texas. Although line dancing probably ranks right up there with root canals, he just couldn't resist Allyson's enthusiasm.

The western wear was optional, but Allyson insisted they both needed hats and boots. Last Sunday she got so worked up about it that I finally said, "Let's not stress about it. I'm sure you will have fun no matter what you're wearing. The most important thing is that Daddy will be there."

When I mentioned the event a day or two later, Allyson protested, "I thought you said we couldn't talk about the Daddy Daughter Date."

"Huh?"

"You said we couldn't stress about it any more."

I laughed. "Well, that doesn't mean we can't talk about it."

Allyson needn't have worried. Bill borrowed a hat and boots from his best friend Troy, and then he took Allyson shopping at Target, where they found the cutest hat and boots, plus a checkered shirt from the boy's section.

Although we both assured her no one would be able to tell it was a boy's shirt, she decided on a jean skirt over jeans, just in case. Isn't she the cutest cowgirl you've ever seen?

And the happiest, too.

 



 

 

I was surprised to see that Bill looked great in a cowboy hat. I made sure to get a good look as it's probably the first and last time he'll ever wear one.

 

In her ecstatic summary this morning, Allyson told me that he actually did some line dancing with her. "And we got to do a slow dance, too," she said, grinning wide. How wonderful that her very first slow dance was with her father.

 

 

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.