Resources and recommendations

First, have you seen my Amazon Widget over there? To the right... Yup. Orders placed via a click on one of the words in the product cloud add up for us. I've started planning for next school year, and the funds from orders are welcome. Thanks, friends.

I keep recommending Neurology Now to folks I run into, for all kinds of reasons. Mostly because we all possess brains, nerves, as well as the myriad blessings and confounding messiness those things entail. The articles are good for general information and the archives present an awful lot of information on just about any neurological issue one can name.

My friend's delightful art.

Another friend's fantastical structures. Which are also delightful art.

Apples and Pears and Dancing Bears, for kids struggling with reading (especially dyslexia and related issues). Sound Foundations is a UK company, with US orders processed here.

All about

This week brought snow, record low temperatures, a power outage, and odd miscommunications between an otherwise very reliable doctor's office and the pharmacy (which bent rather far backward in resolving the issue).  The house stayed pretty warm the night the power was out - aided no doubt by the addition of four extra people, happily marooned here by slippery hills.  The wind chill that night was around zero, but it only got down to 60 inside before the heat came back on.  The following night was colder - I woke around five thinking that my face was startlingly cold and listening for Q to complain about the same, but buried myself immediately in the soft and warm blankies and passed right out again.

It has been a fun week, despite some unusual frustrations.  It's been a fun year, really.  New responsibilities for me at church morphed into a unique service opportunity which seems to be showing lasting effects.  Creative projects popped up all over.  We're all learning, growing, doing - and efforts made have given evident results.  It's all good.

Many of you know some part of this family's story over the last five years.  Heck, some of you have known the whole story, from before there was this family.  The last five years have been something rather indescribable.  Certainly nothing like I'd expected.  And yeah, if I had a do-over, there are major things I'd change.  But life is very good, despite the undeniable holes (they're how the light gets in, after all), and for this we are profoundly grateful.

Things are shifting a little here.  Q continues to grow, which means escalating physical needs.  He's also about to have another round of appointments with specialists, new ones this time.  Other family members are experiencing upticks in accomplishments and output.  The combination of these factors means that we could use a different look at how life proceeds at our house.

So first, a short, annotated wish list (it always helps to make a list and throw it out there - one never does know what will come of it), then one of gratitude. 

Things Which Would Make Life Easier in Some Way:

• Perhaps the most useful "thing" would be a sort of housekeeper type person.  I'm coming to realize the sheer number of hours I must spend functioning as some level or type of specialist in order for the individuals in this family to succeed:  massage therapist, personal care provider, nursing, administrative tasks, organizer, supervisor, chef, chauffeur, buyer, bookkeeper, events planner and coordinator, accompanist to music practices, teacher, tutor, official snuggler, and on and on.  At some point I run out of hours and collapse.  If there were someone who could take a little bit of the plant services/housekeeping portion of my job description?  Oh, wow.  Just thinking about it makes me all misty-eyed.  This item is something I'm musing on, more than listing, really.  The kids are big helps, but they have their own stuff to do too, like learn, play, and be children. 
• IT specialist, also not a "thing."  At this time I don't have what it takes to add this to my list in the Job Description.  We have stuff going on here which needs attention from someone who knows his/her stuff, and that person won't be me in the foreseeable future.

Gratitude:
Cake.
Lovely and loving people.
Running.  (And sweating.  There, I said it.)

Snow and the melting thereof.
A warm place to keep the brood when it's horribly cold outside.
Money.  Enough to manage the important things.
A nice bag of Brussels sprouts.  Which K is going to roast for me.
Paperwork, because it means that there are solutions to otherwise thorny problems.
Resources and a brain which links them up.

Dissection kits.
Carmex and lotion for early winter weather.
Hugs from punkins.
A fun time at the movies with friends.

And now, to bed.  Hope your wish lists and gratitude lists collide in spectacular ways.

XO.

Tired

So much has happened since I posted last. I'll get to the most special parts, but not all right now. I'm trying to hit bed before 2am, which will be an hour earlier than last night. Q's wanting to sleep, but is needing turning and repositioning, really having a tough time getting comfortable.

Perhaps one of the most incredible things to take place recently was that a dear friend's husband had a pretty frightening health emergency. He's more or less out of the woods but will continue to need watching and testing for quite some time. After nearly a week in the hospital, he's glad to be home and his family is thrilled to have him. They can use continuing prayers as he heals, more tests are ordered, and he resumes his search for work.

We've seen rather a lot of car accidents lately, twisted metal and crunched up fenders and windshields. We're feeling a little twitchy about all that and it's shown up in us walking a bit more carefully around each other, taking a little extra time for hugs and backscratches. (Go squeeze someone you love right now. I'll wait here.)

G and E were baptized and Q dedicated a week ago. It was such a lovely service, with other very dear families involved, music that helped the spirit soar, and a really good and blessedly short sermon. One of the best parts of the whole thing was Q grinning "cherubically" through the pastor's words and prayer. Here are the poems read during the service (go with the "becoming" imagery in the first, and remember that it's special to us in part because all three girls have memorized it during their respective first grade years).

The Caterpillar
Brown and furry
Caterpillar in a hurry;
Take your walk
To the shady leaf, or stalk.
May no toad spy you,
May the little birds pass by you;
Spin and die,
To live again a butterfly.

Holy Innocents

Sleep, little Baby, sleep,
The holy Angels love thee,
And guard thy bed, and keep
A blessed watch above thee.
No spirit can come near
Nor evil beast to harm thee:
Sleep, Sweet, devoid of fear
Where nothing need alarm thee.

The Love which doth not sleep,
The eternal arms around thee:
The shepherd of the sheep
In perfect love has found thee.
Sleep through the holy night,
Christ-kept from snare and sorrow,
Until thou wake to light
And love and warmth to-morrow.

Both belong to Christina G. Rossetti.

Wishing you peace and delight this weekend. Or just lots of sleep.

Random catching up

I think I've moved beyond the revelations from the last couple of weeks. I think it might not have mattered what I had done a-way back then, since none of what happened was about me in even the smallest way. I need my head to work well, in the here and now, so I don't have time to spend on things which ultimately aren't my responsibility, no matter how I feel about those things or the people involved. It just can't matter anymore, certainly not enough to take me away from the stuff I really am accountable for. Maybe someday I'll have an opportunity to interact with those folks again and it can be a healing thing. But for now, this needs to fly off in the wind.

This morning I discovered a... (whispering) tiny watermelon in our garden. We've never had much success with melons of any kind, but there are two itty bitty ones out there -- about 4 and 5mm. We have a bazillion green tomatoes. We've gigantic still green Romas, jewel-like yellow pears and baby red ones. On one side, there's a small plant with a single fat green tomato that just keeps getting bigger. It's not a beefsteak, it's an heirloom that should be yellow and red striped when it decides to turn. There are two inch-long yellow crooknecks on gigantic plants with several dozen blossoms. No idea why there aren't more actual squash. No pumpkins yet, and they're running out of time to produce anything useful. There are cukes climbing up cages -- smaller burpless and then, the so-far dark green lemon cucumbers. They're giggle inducing, like Dr. Seuss fruits. For unabashed pretties, we have begonias producing blossoms like they've got only minutes left to do so. There are fat Marshmallow fuchsias in baskets, million bells in as many colors, and big blue "mornin' gories" by the front door as well as tiny deep royal purple ones, further out, almost under the giant maple. The two beds of impatiens are funny -- fluffy as can be, one red, one pink, both in deep shade, looking almost plastic in their perfect symmetry and buddedness.

It's sweet, this place. We've had good lettuces and "bropplies" this year. Soon it will be time to dig up the potatoes. Wanna come over?

The upside of yesterday's adrenaline rush was discovering that Q is not allergic to bee stings. Poor little ducky. He jumped when it flew by, but was still excited because he's always intrigued by new things to discover. But then it landed and just stung him, faster than I could wave it off. The sting was barely inside the crease by his mouth, not quite under his nose. A quick paste of baking soda, a half dose of Benadryl, a shot of ibuprofen drops, then some homeopathic anti-inflammatory cream and he was beginning to look himself again. For about an hour he had looked like he'd lost a fight with a wee angry middleweight. But by this morning he was fine, and I'm almost over wanting to eradicate every api-thing I can find.

The last several days, really the whole last two weeks, were so neat. Hosting kids who don't get access otherwise to such nifty creative teachers was awesome. Having kids who were excited to be there was awesome. The volunteers were awesome (and funny besides being wonderfully helpful). The end shows were super, the church service tear-jerking, the kids accomplished. (I've added some music -- pieces they performed.) As was the case last year, I've never seen such a bunch of smiley tired people -- even if most of us did come down with "heads full of concrete" sometime during the week, to quote the pastor. I think we're all blinking, adjusting to not barreling through traffic to fine arts classes today. I know my crew is.

One of the most piercing moments came the first week, just after one of the camp counselors had come in and expressed, in some awe, how cool this all was for the kids they'd brought. We were whirling, absolutely flying to keep eighteen palettes full of paint, water containers fresh and full, canvases supplied, messes mopped up. All hands were on deck. I had the counselor's comment fresh in my mind, the theme of "You've Got a Friend in Me" was burned on the back of my eyeballs, and our pastor just then passed swiftly by with a tray of freshly filled water containers, trading them out for the muddied ones. I thought to myself, with a feeling of dawning recognition -- "Ah. Communion. Of course." It was sort of a distilled moment, where the clouds open, sunbeams float straight down, and if you're lucky, the angel choirs' tones come wafting in. We had those dulcet tones -- our angel choirs wanted more paint, pronto.

What a privilege to have been a part of shy kids coming out of their shells to perform, awkward ones revelling in form and line, and the creatively inclined breaking new ground with themselves -- all while forming new friendships. Twas lovely.

______________________________

Swerving wildly... I need tips on how to let someone down gently.

It's rather an awkward situation. (When isn't it?) I've spent a grand total of maybe ten minutes speaking with this person, spread out over perhaps three years. In that time, he's never inquired about anything of substance about me, never acknowledged my children. Well, that's not true, but never mind, that's even more awkward. And yet, he's managed to compliment me, pointedly, specifically, and awkwardly, and has sort of started following me, a bit. I know absolutely nothing about him, can't even pronounce his name, I'm always in motion, and practically run away from him, but he persists. Geez-o-Pete. How does a person not get the hint?

Do I say, "I'm sorry to have never stopped and looked directly at you when you speak to me, but I'm kind of busy and I will always be so." Or, "Please stop commenting on my hair or I'll have to shave it off, just to make you stop. I'm begging you. Don't make me shave my head." (If the hair is attracting someone who lacks even facile social skills, shaving it off seems a perfectly reasonable solution at this point.) Or maybe I should buy a big, gaudy ring, and pop it on my finger when he approaches, or just wear it whenever I have to be where he's likely to be?

I've considered doing that before, just because I get tired of the odd little things that happen at Target or the grocery store, the park, the library. Let's just say that there aren't many men who are in any way wholesomely attracted to a single mom happily trailing five kids behind her, who also then happen to be a person I'd want to hang out with, on any level. Most of them make the oddest assumptions, along the lines of one of my formerly FAQ: "Do they all have the same father?" Some of these, um, "men" are wearing holey t-shirts which just yell out, "HEY! WANNA BE MY BABY MAMA? YES, YOU DO!! C'MERE!" Only without proper punctuation.

Perhaps what I really need is a knight protector. Do you suppose Lancelot is available? Nah, too much baggage, what with his smarmy arrangement with Guinevere. And poor Arthur -- not a good BFF situation there. Maybe some other version of knight, then. A tall and smart someone with a wicked sense of humor who wouldn't mind looking fiercely at this person to frighten him away, hopefully while cracking jokes with me. Maybe a kah-NIG-et is what I'm after then. Just as long as he doesn't smell of elderberries. It might be hard for this other person to take the whole thing seriously if I'm in the background, shaking with laughter.

I digress.

Any applicants for the position of K. in S.A.? All male applicants will be considered, including anyone of a different orientation -- I've long heard that every woman should have a good friend who's happy. The position posted pays nothing, but I'll make ya brownies. Short repeat appearances may be necessary, at least until Mr. IlovebigfamiliesandIthinkyourhairisbeautiful (First name: Iloveyourdress-ogleogleogle-wherewereyou) gets the message. After he gets the message? Well, I'd still pop up some popcorn and watch movies with you, your call.

Okay, so since I'm unlikely to get (m)any applicants for such a volunteer position in this job market, I'm asking you, dear readers -- please for to have advise with kind deconstruction on scary man opinion and for always nearness?

Seriously. I'm out of practice shooing guys away without breaking them. Please don't make me break him. I hate that. It hurts my heart and it makes me cringe. For years.

Wah. (Head in hands)

I'm off to order the last bits of consumables for the kids. Please. I need help with that person. I need this not to wreck an otherwise very much appreciated part of my life.

Thank you.

Good stuff, for which I'm grateful

I'm picking up the big kids in less than a week.

Q is growing -- intellectually, emotionally, physically -- and happy, not drug-addicted, in pain, or sad and unable to tell me about it. (Boy, will he be glad to have the kids back. He was pretty sanguine for the first couple of weeks, remembering that they've done this before and rolling with it, but he's been less patient about their absence over the last week.)

There are a lot of people out there who care enough about my kids and how they turn out that there are a constant stream of prayers going up on our behalf. There are a shorter list of people who put forth serious daily effort to make sure that my kids have what they need. I'm absolutely on my face thankful every day for both of these groups, especially where they overlap in word, thought, and deed.

The one up-side to being essentially on my own is the serious set of mommy muscles I've grown and will continue to cultivate. I always had 'em with each kid, from newborn through toddler stages, but carting Q and all his stuff means frequently hoisting 30-40 plus pounds of stuff several times a day. So, you know, that adds up.

I am so glad to be able to read. I can't imagine my life without the ability to use the written word, to use it for research (and my self-imposed "CE" endeavors -- heh), for pleasure, for helping the punkins.

The chance to be with and sink myself thoroughly into these five children is such a privilege. It is for many reasons an absolute necessity, but that in no way lessens the blessing it is to me.

I am grateful for a sense of wonder. Seeing the snow-topped mountains blush pink to the east as the sun slips behind and shows in hazy blue and coral relief those to the west? It perpetually elicits a "wow...".

I get to teach some art to some kids in a few weeks. I am excited and terrified and I can't wait. This is yet another reason I love our church -- plenty of people create fabulous opportunities for their own children, but who does this sort of thing as outreach? Apparently, we do. What a singular thing to be involved with people who are all about giving hands and feet to their faith. And for my children to be immersed in it? Awesome.

Did I mention the part where I'm picking up the oldest four? Yup, pretty excited about that.

On that note, it's off to bed, for which I'm also grateful. Projects await tomorrow, lots to do yet before the kids are back, and time just spins and spins, doesn't it?

Hope you're having a lovely summer, getting to really revel in the ripe deliciousness of it with your littles, your not so littles, and their mama/daddy.

XO.

Thankfulness

Knowing that there's decent chocolate somewhere in the house. Just in case.

A quiet house at the end of the day or first thing in the morning.

A really, very, exceptionally good day with the kidlets. Most days are good, but some just shine.

Facebook Flair. ("There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased that line and replaced it with a small trout.")

Good wishes from meaningful figures in my life.

Little guy, cooing and chortling to his sisters.

Watching the lap swimmers while I walk the aforementioned kiddo around and around in the pool, hugging the lane markers to avoid splashes from the other families. I fantasize a little, my cells recalling the slip of water over belly and thighs, the feel of stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, and the surge of delight in a well-executed dive.

Prayer, contemplation, meditation. I don't often hold still for these activities, especially since doing so often results in my falling asleep, but I absolutely treasure the space in my head that's reserved for this type of thinking and/or activity. I use it all day, every day in big and little increments.

A really good walk in sunny, apple-crunchy crisp air, with good conversation and great scenery.

My parents, married forty-one years today, their forbearance in letting us be here and other myriad help they offer. Having a warm place to be is awesome, and this place is so much more than that. (My mom was here with the kids, one of three adults who stepped in while I was off to court, and she has since had just the sweetest and most complimentary things to say about the stuff I do here daily. It makes me blush.)

Lunges and squats. I know this puts me somewhere in the realm of the demented, but wait: the doing of particular exercises is the only thing staving off further intervention with this silly knee. I slipped on a small invisible puddle while passing through a hospital cafeteria last week. I splatted unceremoniously and was sore, but nothing was dislocated (a minor miracle, given my history) and I'm crediting my own persistence in the pursuit of muscle-making, thank you very much. You see? Lunges and squats.

Good food. Orange-scented, nutmeg and vanilla, maple syrup-topped French toast. A salad made with pears and apples and bleu cheese with cardamom, black pepper, ginger, and chili powder-spiced candied walnuts. Roasted carrots and parsnips, sauteed rainbow chard with a little garlic. And a tortellini salad with garbanzos, capers, fresh basil, little rings of multi-colored baby sweet peppers and crumbled feta. Yup. Lots of comfort in the sensuality of awesome food -- making, eating, cleaning up and teaching the next generation. Love it.

Last but far from least, there are moments in which I sort of watch myself and my punkins interact, kind of removed from the situation, thinking about how we'll remember that frame caught in time. The eldest becomes this funny, self-possessed young man; the second-born a treasure of anticipating, striving responsibility; the middlest ever more creative and beguiling. Number four grows her vocabulary and conceptualization almost hourly, always popping out the very funniest and most profound things one is likely to hear on any given day; and Q. Whipping his head around when he hears the word "pool" or to find the sound of running water. And, oh, the fatness of those cheeks...

Life is rich indeed.

Good news

After about an hour of unmitigated panic, two boys were found safe and sound.

The repairs to the van were about one third the expected expense, with the understanding that the poor thing requires persistent babying through it's golden years.

The concussion is "relatively mild." The teeth can be pretty well repaired. These things have occupied us rather thoroughly over the last week, but less so now. All is not precisely well, but grace covers things, and it will be well. Phew.

Thank God, thank God, thank God.

Edited to add: At 1:30 the next morning I'm still burning adrenaline like it's kerosene over the first good thing on the list. What a week, huh?

Rollercoaster

Ups and downs, happy and cranky, messy and tidy. I feel as though I should be writing such phrases into a musical about motherhood. Q has had a wild sleep "schedule" lately. Over the weekend he slept badly and then, out of the blue, eight and a half hours in his very own bed. Last night was not so great, so since we seem to be alternating nights for restlessness vs. sacked out hard REM sleep, I'm thinking maybe tonight's the night. For me! To sleep! (Break out the chorus line here.)

Q's therapy people both canceled for tomorrow. Seems 'tis the season for little ones to be generous with their germs and both will be out for a few days recovering. So my darling aunt is coming over in the morning to stay with Q who may or may not be sleeping while I take whomever else is ready with me. K is having her spacer checked out, maybe removed. She's hopeful. I think she might need a little more room created in there.

G has OT in the morning, which he really seems to love. Maybe the "dino wars" he gets to wage there have something to do with it. Then we'll be home again to move more furniture in my never-ending quest to create a house full of wheels-friendly space. The girls and I will sit to do some more school (G is working on self-discipline in this arena), and then off to tumbling.

It's been far too long since I posted a real Gratitude List. Since having everyone asleep at the same time (and before one in the morning!) makes me feel all giddy and expansive and unreasonably optimistic, here goes...

I am grateful for:
A venue in which to write, kvetch and exult in life.
Flannel sheets.
Healthy kidlets.
Good meds, dosed in a timely fashion, by people who are paying attention. The combination is truly a lifesaver.
That I know "stuff" like -- sternal retractions and "belly breathing" mean it's time to go to the ER. Like, how to ask questions when I don't know the answers. How to cut flowers underwater so they'll last longer. How to make my babies laugh, even when they're trying to be all pre-teen-y, pitching attitude. How to whip up a delicious, satisfying meal with whatever happens to be in the pantry (thanks, mom). How to split and stack wood and start a fire with one match. How to make pretty things. How to scratch tender backs, tuck in little wounded (tired) egos, and snuggle in between three little bodies at three a.m.
A warm place to be, with people who love us.
Color(s). All of 'em. Certain colors are more appealing to me than others, but I can't nail it down to a favorite. I love color.
Internet access.
Our local library and the patient people there who answer endless questions from me and mine.
Smart people who write good books. Smart people who talk to me, sharing insight and empathy and sometimes even their Starbucks. (grins) I am renewed by these interactions.
The nameless thing that keeps me excited about my life, such as it is, and always looking for new ways to do, learn, be, understand or create.
All the folks I know who are on more or less the same path thanks to their own version of the latter.
A church in which my kidlets can get to know God, in which the people are earnest, imperfect seekers, filled with a common vision and kindness.

Look at that list! I am blessed, blissed, fortunate indeed. Thanks for riding this rollercoaster with me, folks. Your presence is bolstering.

Rest well.

Winged Grace

There are angels hanging out nearby.

I received the loveliest note in the mail last week. Inside was a check which has already purchased clothes for the girls and Q (love those clearance racks!) and will buy G a chemistry set, maybe some pants for those mile-long legs. And yes, we'll use some of it for something plain old fun. I'm still reeling and can't seem to come up with any really super ideas. Any suggestions?

To whomever sent it: thank you and thank you and thank you. And a very Merry Christmas.

When we went over for Grandpa's funeral, G got an impromptu Chemistry intensive. During the soup lunch provided by the church, he was sitting with the son of friends who both teach at the once college, now university. Their son grew up, got hooked on chemistry himself and now teaches there. G and this very nice young man got to talking about things they're interested in and the chat resulted in an offer from the budding professor to show my boy around a college Chem lab. (Woohoo!!) They got so interested in their minor explosions that they lost track of time and showed up about three hours later instead of the one they'd been granted. Thankfully, everything is walking distance from everything else there and they knew where we would be, so they just wandered in later in the evening. G was glowing. And not, as he pointed out, from anything radioactive. Heh.

We ended up bringing home a high-school chem textbook that had roosted in the teacher's office and lots of bolstering for a young man's fancy. G has spent many years honed in on Biology, but this Chemistry thing could just take all his interest for a good long time. He asked if the teacher could be his Chem tutor, so they seem to have worked something out there. G plans to email questions. When we arrived home after six hours of travel, the first thing he did was go pull out his tiny beaker, two droppers, and the pH papers so he could start "noting things." It was 9:30pm. I was somewhat less enthusiastic than he at that point. Nonetheless, wow. Have you ever seen lithium burn? It's a gorgeous red. The copper was pretty too, but that lithium gives off some kind of color. It's not hard to see how such hands-on activity could jump start G right into a pure fascination.

Of course now he wants to go to the garden section of whatever store we're in so he can look for bags of sulphur.

What should one do when one child was throwing up, another feeling just cranky, this resulted in missing the church's Christmas breakfast and on getting about four hours of sleep? Well, first off, one should clean things up, including one's make-up and the contents of the bathroom cupboard which had been moved to the counter top (which the girls had so thoughtfully removed and sorted in the interest of "getting rid of stuff we don't want anymore"). One should then try very hard to get the Gentian Violet off one's fingers -- because, dear ones, when rinsing a bottle of purple dye under warm water, one should remember that unless the bottle seals perfectly, the warmth of the water will cause the contents of the bottle to expand and, you guessed it, leak like mad and turn one's fingers really, really purple.

So, what should one do? The washing machine ran, the kidlets had meds, and we made marshmallows. Of course.

We made (thank you C) a pan of pale pink creme de menthe (not very minty), a pan of slightly darker pink peppermint (yummy), one of butter rum with vanilla and nutmeg, and one that's sort of like gingerbread. My favorite is the butter rum. See my eyes rolling back into my head? It would go very nicely with some steaming chai, as would the cinnamon ginger. The first pan was cut into angels, the second into small gingerbread men, the third into pears, the fourth into old-fashioned doughnut shapes -- so you get the doughnut shape for your drink and the center to eat.

Marshmallows

1 packet unflavored gelatin
1/3 c cold water
1 c sugar
1/4 c water
pinch of salt
Optional:
food coloring (a few drops)
flavorings (1/4-2 t, to taste)

In a large mixer bowl, sprinkle gelatin over 1/3 c cold water and let stand until softened, about 5 min. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan (not too small -- it can cook over) combine sugar and 1/4 c water. Stir over med-high heat until sugar is dissolved. Using a pastry brush dipped in water, brush down sugar crystals on sides of pan. Place a candy thermometer into mixture. Boil without stirring until syrup reaches 238F (soft-ball), about 10 min. Pour into gelatin. Beat with a whisk (not by hand, silly, your arm would fall off) at med-low speed until slightly cooled, about 5 min. Increase speed to med-high and beat to soft peaks, 12-15 min. Coat a jelly roll pan with a 50/50 mix of powdered sugar and cornstarch (we greased first but will try it without next time) and spread the mixture out evenly, sprinkling with more of the mixture. Let rest overnight (depending on humidity) and then cut into shapes with cookie cutters or just slice into squares. A double batch would fill your average jelly roll pan. Loosen the sides with a knife before trying to remove from the pan.

Our next project will include making a quadruple batch to fill a 9x13 pan so we can cut them into giant cubes! We hope to make marshmallows so large that even our giant coffee cups will barely contain them!!

Clearly I need some sleep.

Which brings us to another topic. We seem to have entered into another round of "let's see how little sleep mommy can get and still enunciate c-l-e-a-r-l-y." Last night, at 1 something, was the earliest I've gotten to bed in weeks. The more usual has been 2 am, with Q waking up around 3 or 4, usually just to nurse. And nurse and nurse and nurse. Or sleep on me and nurse. Or not sleep at all from 5 to 6 am. WAH!

(A-hem.)

Anyhoo, I've taken to keeping the teething tablets close by as they seem to do the trick. Still, one would need to remember that one had placed them right next to the bed before turning out the light in order for them to do any good at 5 am, now wouldn't one?

Q had OT this morning. When I gave his nice OT the little baggie of gingerbread shaped marshmallows I told her that some of them were a little maimed -- missing an arm, mostly. (It was a very small little cutter and marshmallows are sticky, after all.) She said, smiling hugely, "Oh, they're little disabled marshmallows! I made cookies that were 'limb-challenged' myself. It was pretty funny until they started losing their heads." Dontcha just love her?

Q got to go to the computer again this morning, following his big stretches. He loved the games and songs and his lovely OT was impressed at how quickly he caught particular details. This is good, because he'll have more time then and since he's not taking months and months to grasp the most basic responses, he'll be able to move more quickly on to ever more complicated stuff.

The Christmas tasks are about done so maybe I'll just sneak off now and sleep. Maybe I can get back to finish writing when the kids are all fascinated with their toys.

Merry Christmas to you -- I hope you're asleep now and reading later. (smiles) Hugs and Blessings, people. And thanks for being my cheerleaders.

Somebody, please put me to bed...

I'm still praying that my friends won't be needing these titles, but someone else may (sadly), so here they are:

The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce
What About the Kids? Raising Your Children Before, During and After Divorce
and, for extra fun: Between Two Worlds: The Inner Lives of Children of Divorce

I found all three to be excruciating reads, since I'm in the midst of a divorce myself. A circumstance which I didn't see coming, would certainly not have chosen for my children and can't seem to force myself to be happy about. All of the above are well reviewed, extremely thoroughly researched, and in my opinion, absolutely necessary reading for adult children of divorce as well as any parent contemplating putting an end to his or her marriage. Even if you'd rather be biopsied with a grapefruit spoon, if you're in a related situation, read these books. Send them to your friends and family. Christmas is coming up, you know. Now there's a way to make sure you'll enjoy a lively discussion around the tree.

I don't know what to say about them by way of reviewing them. Except that there are so many misconceptions about how everything in the world of divorce and families works. Someone has to take this seriously, someone has to see these kids as they are, stop the "happy talk" and deal with their reality as it stands. Quickly. Before they grow up, maintaining high internal ideals for themselves, intent on not making those mistakes of their parents, but going on to do the same or worse, because they can't understand the rising tide of panic that tastes like bile. They can't see themselves as they are--often ill-equipped to stand in the midst of the regular stuff of life.

Being as objective as one can be under the circumstances, the interpersonal issues here fascinate me. The predictability with which certain things unfold, the choices which lead to havoc or haven, how kids turn into adults who seek out and also create healing. All are enormously complex and yet simple as can be. Maybe a little like fractals. Or how I imagine fractals are.

How about some happy thoughts? I'm grateful for a warm bed with flannel sheets. The opportunity to sleep, perchance to dream of nice things and people, maybe even a less complicated place to be in life. Also, Q is out. The girls went down quietly tonight. G is making progress with work he'd rather pretend isn't there. Piano recital is tomorrow night and they're all well prepared. I'm still here and in (checking...), yup, in one piece. I can't say enough how grateful I am for the folks who, when things get really weird or nuts or overwhelming, are just kind. Thank you all for reminding me that I'm not crazy. And of course, with the horrible floods in the Northwest and shooting in Omaha, I'm glad that the people I love are all safe. I sure wish I had something besides good thoughts and prayers to offer to those poor folks.

Well, the kitchen is as clean as it can get without waking people up with the noise of it, so I'm off to bed. I'll have to post an honest to goodness update later.

One more thing--I could use some prayers for not puffy eyes in the morning. Maybe by the time the kids are up? It's been a tough evening. Stuff Which Must Be Done sometimes leaves a person a little raw. Yuck. And then there was the phone call from the other side of the state about my grandfather. My grandma was called to his side earlier this evening. The care facility thinks it's only a matter of time. Of course, the last time we thought that was in the summer. We all got there as quickly as we could, only to find him cracking jokes, slurping milkshakes (with help), and grinning at the touch of little squirts' hands. He just lit up when Q laid his head down on his great-grandpa's shoulder. He's a tough old rancher, pilot, engine-repairing, tool-selling guy. But mostly, he just wants to see Jesus.

Uh-oh. The eyes might be puffy after all.....

Hope y'all are well and snuggled in tight with your beloved tonight.

Peace.

Amo, Amas, Amat.....

There are certain words and phrases that plant themselves in one's consciousness and just won't leave. Lately, Quahog has been amongst them. (Nice, eh? I've no idea where it came from or what it means. Maybe if I looked it up it would leave me alone.) At some point in the last couple of years I thought I might have to write a musical just to make good use of all the particular words that popped constantly into my head like so much angry syntax seeking to either distract or destroy. And then lately, there's Plausible Deniability. It's like that blasted golden snitch, hovering, flitting, nigh to impossible to nail down.

What does it mean? Well, this is enlightening. I suppose that's part of my recoil at the term. Yes, definitely. Comparing an individual to such colossal abuse of power would be silly, really. The scale is all wrong.

But still, the term hangs out in my head, poking me. Why?

Well, I'd like to think of myself as a good person. Wouldn't we all? Still, I don't think I do nearly enough, think nearly enough on worthy things, I don't have a handle on this business of life at. all. This is not to say that I'm some sort of axe murderer or something. Heavens, no. I'm just... I'm just...

A person. A predictably fallible human. A regular mess.

Perhaps this is why I so very dearly love the concepts of grace, restoration, redemption. I'll probably be able to form a coherent thesis on these topics sometime in the next couple of decades or so (snort). For now, I only have this: I think being human is a marvelous gift, a worthy and soaring adventure, and a small glimpse of both heaven and hell. On alternating days. It's a right and responsibility to live this time here with joy, with abandon, with respect and tender care for those entrusted to us. There's so much to do here, so much love to revel wildly in, so many hugs of understanding, so many positively blinding moments of intimacy to share.

So (swerving wildly--come along, I'm distracting you). Let's have a gratitude list. It's been far too long and it is that month again. Without further ado, I'm thankful for:

~My children, who make my heart swell. I'm lucky, no, blessed to be their mama.
~Some of the very most special people ever--fantastic talents, empathetic, smart as can be. I am glad to have time in their presence, happy indeed that they'll hang out with me.
~Church. Worship, reflection, a space in which to just sit still and be quiet (even Q cooperates most of the time)--these things don't just show up every day. Unless one runs out of gas whilst the kids are elsewhere.
~Q loves life. This in itself nearly knocks me over. Every time he laughs, every time I think about it, I'm just about on the floor. No kidding.
~My punkins and I have a warm place to be, with people who love us very much indeed.
~As crazy as my neuro processes sometimes make me (and many of those unfortunate enough to be caught up in my quest to understand), I really like my brain. Sometimes it scares me, but more often I find I'm having fun learning more about it's variables and constants. What a ride.
~That pain does not take the day. That sorrow doesn't have the last word, that the seemingly inescapable, truly horrid stuff, even as it reduces things to ashes, doesn't drive life.
~That I'm not in my twenties anymore. (If you are, I hope you're sucking the marrow from the bones of it and all, but you will love getting older. Trust me. So much less kerfuffle. Or maybe not. Anyway...)
~Good muscles. Opportunities to use them, make them stronger, stretch them out and feeeel that flexibility. A strong back. A healthy self.
~*Meds that work. We may be on the verge of another adjustment (I keep saying that, don't I?), but so far, we've been really blessed to have the first medicine attempted actually work.
~Trader Joe's. What do I not love there? Well, I'm not so much into the meat section. (The paper that a certain person wrote in med school on Creutzfeldt-Jakob fixed that once and for all.) The wine isn't my thing (though there've been days...). But have you had their Chard of Many Colors? Their Ginger Granola? Their Italian yogurt? Their cookies? And, oh, the prices. Very nice. A Useful Thing, that store. I adore Useful Things.
~More about Useful Things. Baskets. Shelving. Bookcases. Containers. I do not exaggerate when I say that I have feelings of great fondness for them. I spent (the grad school) years waiting to afford such decadent things as containers. Shoe boxes and such worked for awhile, but the kids are bigger now. There have been some recent donations, hand me downs of such delightful items. Scuffed? Who cares? It works, it's organized, and life is movin' on.
~The van keeps on going.
~The computer keeps on going.
~I keep on going. With a veritable gallery of (mostly invisible) cheerleaders, one foot in front of the other, we're making it. The kids are mostly happy, growing, and learning the coolest stuff.
~Cute things that pop out of the little mouths. S, following a discussion on Starbucks, came flying back into the kitchen to say, all bright and happy, "I know why it's called Starbucks!" Me, anxious to hear the mystery solved: "You do? Why?" S, hopping like a sprite: "Because it has a star on it and it costs bucks!" Out she flits.
~Gratitude lists. The time to reflect upon good things and the people with whom I share them. Mwaaa.

In other news:

*(A small whine here: I've thought about this and it is not remotely an exaggeration for me to say that I hate those stupid medicine droppers. Hate them. Can anyone seriously believe that they're accurate? When dosing a med that requires one to scrape up stray droplets in order to ensure the child receives as much of the intended dose as possible, this nasty little piece of plastic is what I'm supposed to do it with? Surely I'm not the only person in the world who actually wears out dosing syringes. There must be others who have to use the syringe friendly bottle adaptor because the syringe won't fit into the bottle--said adaptors seem to be growing scarce. But this ridiculous thing as an alternative? Really? Because someone can do better than this. C'mon--do it in the name of Useful Things everywhere.)

K got her spacer/expander in today. She's a little sore, but being so brave and cute. We adjust it the first time tomorrow. I so hope this goes well. Still cringing about the money there, but it's considerably less with the dentist than it would be with an orthodontist. My "spacer" done in the same manner at about the same age, worked wonderfully well for me. So we're crossing our fingers and praying about several aspects of that situation.

Last week I had G and E both taking math tests. G flew through his, E was taking forever. I did my standard spiel when they struggle: "You can do it. You know this. If you need to go on to the next problem and come back that's fine." Soothe, soothe, pat, pat. G finished up and brought me his test to correct. Pull out the key and... Wait a second. Why don't any of the answers match up? Ummm. Silly mommy switched the tests. G got 100% (as well he should have), E got 70%. Not too shabby for the girl, huh? I was pretty proud. When I discovered my mistake, I told her if she finished the test and passed it, I'd consider letting her test out of some upcoming sections of the book. She'll take a test tomorrow and we'll see how it goes.

Lastly, a prayer request.

I don't even know how to say any of the things one might say under the circumstances. We have a court date on Thursday (11/8). I feel sick. Really. Physically ill. I don't know what to pray for here. I don't know what to hope for. I don't know if anything good can come of any part of this mess--past, present or future. Perhaps I'm now just focusing on Someone being so thoroughly in control that we all get precisely what we need, with the grown-ups' wants falling way to the bottom of the priorities. Of course, different people would have different definitions there.

Also, the families that I've mentioned previously? They're struggling valiantly, taking on those Herculean tasks every day and could use any bolstering you might spare. There's also a friend of a friend (from college), someone whose birthday is eerily close to mine. This week he and his family learned that he likely has less than a year to live. Horrible, horrible, horrible. His family has survived much, but this is too much to ask anyone to survive. No one should bury their babies, no matter their age. If you think of it, he, his mom and extended family could also use your virtual hugs and fervent prayers.

I'm going to have to go lie down. Fighting the nausea is becoming an overwhelming task.

Thank you for thinking of us, praying for us, being in this with us all.

Paint

I stink.

I've spent the day painting and moving stuff. Have you ever painted hard enough to count it as an aerobic activity? You might consider adding it to your list of things to do before you die. It's great. It mostly results in blisters, hand cramps, and miles and miles of pretty, clean, fresh walls.

As I was slathering on the bazillionth coat of red (if you've ever used red paint on your wall, you know that it does, in fact, require at least one bazillion coats to make it look almost opaque), I was thinking about the delightful messes of life. The colors in the palette today were Cherry Cobbler--oh, yum; Spiceberry--a deep brown that makes one want to bite it; Prelude--a medium blue that feels like an afternoon at a far-away spa; and Plantation--a light green that's not really green, but feels leafy all the same. I was all sweaty and messy, splotched with a veritable rainbow, spreading that lovely red over and over again, filling in the blue that cries out to be jumped into--splash. Listening to all sorts of good stuff on G's CD player, I was nearly knocked over with the sudden beauty of the moment. Goodness. Luscious, slurpy, rich colors, G patiently encouraging the fire blazing in the wood stove, a huge fan running to dry the durned stuff already, kids in and out, bebopping around the room like so many hoppy bunnies. Q playing thoughtfully with his best toy--a shiny deflated mylar balloon. The level of activity almost seemed like a sound-track unto itself; buoying my work as it ebbed and flowed. Did I mention that I was sweaty? Satisfying, that.

With apologies to Sarah, for lifting her thoughts directly from an old post on much the same subject, what would one do without a mess? The business of life is messy. The making of life is messy. The delivery of new life. Messy. But without messes, one would have to skip the lovemaking, the birthing, the living, the dying. Gone would be the smell of a real wood fire, the making of really great cookies, or the painting of great and soaring landscapes or plain old walls. Without messes, each and any of those things fades into rote boredom. Yuck. No sweet lingering, all gooey from adventure or muddy from a hike. I'd so much rather have the messes to clean up, the paint and sweat and tears to wash off under an almost too hot shower, the shirt soaked in breastmilk or spit-up to add to my three to seven daily loads of laundry, than to have missed a single minute from a day like today. Even though I probably won't be able to use my arms tomorrow.

It was a great day, with many accomplishments, a perfect way to round out what was a strange yet wonderful week--last week. Through a series of small and not so small miracles, some needs, even some plain old "wants," have been met and fulfilled here. Some large, some small, every single one of them in profound need of the grace that just showed up, as grace is wont to do in these parts. I know the names of a handful of people who deserve huge recognition for this, but would be tremendously embarrassed were I to out them. So instead I'll just say: thank you. For Q's warm clothes, shoes for the girls, for taking steps to relieve my heart and soul and mind. For being our miracles over the last several days. You know who you are.

"Then those 'sheep' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?' Then the King will say, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.'
Matthew 25:40 (The Message)

The big kids are getting over their colds. Interesting that they were the quickest to catch an itinerant bug--they being the sleep-resistant "I want to read just a little more!" buggers they are. They seem to have inherited their parents' night-owl tendencies, poor things. How wretched a thing for Q to have snot pouring out of his nose--this besides the poor little crusty ear. Even he seems to now be doing much, much better. We had a little tense moment last night when G needed the nebulizer. It was the first time since last winter. Tonight he was much better, Q hasn't needed it at all. (Hope, hope, hope.)

Tomorrow, Q has his usual early morning OT, G will be seen for a review of his glasses (astigmatism) and I'll get his asthma check-up scheduled. The rest of the week will bring dental appointments, more therapies, plenty of school, library, piano lessons, and more. Oh, so much more.

We've got to finish up the process of getting the family room to be a friendly space. It was once, before all the silly people decided that just leaving a box or six when they were moving should be fine. Well, if you were the only one in this sector of the planet who thought that this family room was a crud depository, maybe. I'd still think it rude, but whatever. No. When at least six separate households do that over a span of twenty-seven years, well, let's just say that the dust is finally settling, we've mostly found our own stuff again, and Q's swing is going to soon be able to really fly. And the walls are gorgeous. And I'm sweaty. I know there was more I meant to say, but I can't think what.

Go kiss your beloved, even if you're sweaty. He won't mind. Shoot, he'll probably, well, never mind that. Get going.

'night.

So

For about a week now, mysterious little deliveries have been arriving here. Usually with no name attached, so I don't even know how to thank you properly. Let me say this instead, then: Thank you for being a part of "God's sufficiency" as one lovely person put it. Thank you for reaching out and gifting us with your thoughts, prayers, and those packages. Honestly, I'm just floored.


To say that my punkins and I are stretched thin financially would be a whopping understatement. It is something I strive to leave out of their daily experience in part because we are so rich in the really important ways, in part because I wish them to have something else besides worry and lack as the driving definition of their childhoods--kids tend to obsess over things they cannot control.


That you would go out of your way to provide something for my children has me just in awe. I can finally read the notes without bawling. Okay, without bawling every time.


Luke 11:9-13 comes to mind.

Wow. Just... wow.


Thank you.

Thank you

I've run across a family that could use your prayers. They have seven kids, homeschool, and the baby is having some pretty major issues. It's both a blessing and a little eerie to run across folks facing some of the same big issues we are. Their little Noah will be having a biopsy to diagnose a probable mitochondrial disease. Interestingly, just this week Q's geneticist raised the possibility of a mitochondrial issue. This because of Q's growth pattern in comparison to his siblings. He's gained about 8 ounces since February.

In reading their story, it struck me that I haven't posted a gratitude list here in awhile. I keep them on notebook paper or in blank books next to my bed, but it's past time to share here as well. Here goes.

Having five awesome kids. I'm sometimes still surprised that they're all mine and this life I'm leading is really mine. I am a blessed mama to have friends and family (lots and lots of friends and family) who support me in being with the kids full-time. With all that Q has going on, homeschooling has become especially precious, allowing me more time with and tailoring of particular details to each of the kids individually.

Miracles. Every day something manifests that has no logical reason to show up the way it does. Last year's tuition for the kids, whole curricula packages for next year, help when and where it's needed most. I am constantly astounded at the way Grace appears. I find this so compelling that I often think about t-shirts and bumper stickers that would share the message.

A roof, four walls, cozy beds, parents who tolerate me and my noisy brood. I am grateful to have a safe and loving place for us to be. And that what is now our home, a place we used to just visit, as noted by G, is far more than mere basics. The yard is great, the garden is huge, the chickens are growing, the Christmas present play equipment is heavily used. Much of this represents a child's Nirvana. Awesome.

Resources. OT, PT, Speech, Early Intervention, Community Health Nurse, various developmental agencies. We have great people, sweet, kind and lovely people, who enjoy Q, know their stuff, and work so hard at what they do so well.

The little van. It runs, it has seat belts, it's in great shape for having nearly 143,000 miles on it. We have transportation for the doctor visits, therapies, church, and fun activities, and it gets around 21 mpg almost all of the time. Astounding.

Sarah in FL who sent me sheet music I was looking for. One never knows, does one? Thank you, Sarah. I'm enjoying it immensely--every time I sit down to it, it reinforces my above take on grace.

My in-laws. I cannot express how much it has meant with all the craziness surrounding Q's diagnostic process, therapies, misc. medical crud, and the more usual issues the other kids are having--being children, after all--to have extended family just rise to the occasion, be there, as it were, when things are plain awful otherwise. The more typical response in these circumstances would not entail folks putting themselves out there as you have. Your efforts are a representation of Christ on earth. I am grateful beyond words.

Chocolate. Seriously. Good, dark chocolate. It's rarity, both in quality and dosing (hee), makes it that much more precious.

I'll have more later. I've got to get Q's Trileptal refilled this morning and some paperwork done so he can continue to have medical coverage. Little details, huh?

Blessings, grace and peace to you and yours.

Gratitude

It has been a looong week. I don't know why this one seemed so much longer than any other. Perhaps I've spent more of it awake than usual (not that I'm sleeping in at some other timein my life). Perhaps the news from London was just the sort that stretches time and warps it enough to make it feel both huge and compressed all at once.

Since I'm feeling all grateful and warm about how blessed I am, I thought I'd post a few of my "good things"...

• A roof and beds for each of my punkins and me.
• Flowers in the yard.
• The world's cutest, smartest, and funniest children.
• Chocolate. Of course.
• Lots of fonts and colors to play with in Word. Had I known that there was a custom color option available, I would never have gotten around to writing anything here or anywhere else. Have you ever played with those colors? Maaan. Go do it, you'll see what I mean. It's downright addictive. The power! The variety! The spectrum!!
• Language. It provides me the ability to communicate my love for my precious offspring, my affection for chocolate, my (transient) despair and perpetual delight at the goings-on of life. Without it, I would not have a framework for discussing theology, David would not have had the tools with which to express his relationship with his Maker. Can you imagine not having the Psalms? Proverbs?
• Piano. Lessons for the kids, years of knowing how to play for myself. What an awesome way to unwind. I wish I could do it more.
• Chocolate. It needed to be said again.
• Cherries. We're at the end of the season, but boy, have they been awesome.
• PEGS. It's working here, though today was a bit of a wash--fevers and headaches kept us from accomplishing all we set out to.
• Lakeshore Learning Center's lesson plan book. I now own my fourth and love it as much as ever. I adore possessing handy tools, which this certainly is.
• A decent brain. It needs some training and some rest, but it does well, generally, for my purposes and I am profoundly grateful for that.
• Soccer balls and the muscles they help to grow as they're kicked back and forth between my kids and me. Exercise. Yessirree, where there's a will there's a way. (As an aside, have you ever noticed that youth sized soccer balls are astonishingly near the size of a, uh, human head? Talk about cathartic. I'll let you take care of the visuals there.)
• Q loves to be outside (just like his daddy did when he was a baby) and is so, so happy to talk to the trees when out. This has been especially handy when we were planting the aforementioned flowers. You'll see them if I can ever figure out flickr. Argh.
• Food. Enough. Good stuff. That looks nice. (That we care about how our food looks defines us as "rich"--ha. Very funny, though.)
• Therapy for Q. Good resources every time I turn around. Smart people who know their stuff and aren't threatened by my desire to be clued in. Awesome.

These are a few of my favorite things...la lala la, la lala la.....

Tonight I wish you restorative sleep, peace that passeth understanding, and security/excitement in love. Go hug your honey. (Then wash the sticky off--"Hands in the air!! Go to the bathroom sink. No, no, hands in the air 'til you wash! There you go. Good job." Sigh. You do remember that I have five kids? Am I excused for the mama reflex? Thanks. Mwaaaa.)

Sweet dreams.

Happy Dancing

They're home!

They grew so much and seem like different kids, all in just two weeks. I am so happy they're here! I'm jumping up and down--see?! (I can't believe I survived the experience. I hate it desperately. Blech. Pppp-tooey.)

In other news...

Q had his ultrasound follow-up with the pediatrician on Monday. She's sending us on to a pediatric urologist. Maybe surgery, maybe not, it's hard to say at this point. In any case, no one discussed or noted their visual of something dark that looked maybe like bowel, maybe not, so I guess it's a non issue for now. Un/partially descended testicles and communicating, variable hydroceles are the issues. I've got to get the urologist and the genetecist and the vision therapy balls all rolling in the morning. It's a bit to track. Hopefully, in the big picture this is the stuff that will make a huge difference for little guy, even as it fills the short-term calendar and keeps us all on our toes, juggling madly.

He drooled all over his daddy at the airport today. The boy is teething. He wore a sweet little bib that says, "I Love Daddy" but still managed to drip and slobber his papa a good one. Q has become so slobbery that we walk around looking for drool puddles on the new laminate floor, trying to mop up before it can soak in and warp it.

The summer schedule is coming together. Tomorrow is the zoo with friends, our new piano lesson times have been scheduled for all four of the bigger kids starting next week. I'm still waiting to hear whether or not the kids will be traveling for visits, so VBS is still a maybe. I'm planning to get in the science and history that flew out the window when the kids were enrolled. I've also got to get S and K back on their fun little learning to read plans. We have two birthdays coming up, and stuff to plan for those. Family will be visiting from another state, hopefully we'll get some time at the beach in there somewhere. Q continues with his weekly therapy, which I forget every week until the day before. Perhaps I'm blocking the unpleasant portions of reality?

So there we are, I guess. It's supposed to get roasty toasty hot over the next several days, so we can pull out the swimsuits, stock up on popsicles, and drag out the sprinkler for play while also watering the lawn and gardens. Multitasking. Hurrah!

Did I mention that my kids are home?

Woo hooooooo!!

I'm taking stuff so my faucet, or nose, will let me sleep. Off I go then. Sleep well. Tomorrow morning, lavish love on the people around you, tell them it's from me. And my darling babies. They're home, you know.

Whine, moan

Brace yourself. I'm going to whine a little. Last night, I dreamt I was hemorhagging and no one would take me seriously. They all just kept needing stuff from me while I was bleeding out. Sound like, ummmmm, motherhood? The dream has been with me today, she said darkly.

On with it then.

I am disgusted with nursing bras. Anyone who's used one knows that they lack shape, support, appeal, and heck, any remotely user friendly features. Some are better than others, true. But that's like saying that some flu bouts are worse than others: you've yet to encounter one you'd care to repeat.

I am tired of having to chase my tail over medical details. I will be on the phone tomorrow with the neurologist's office, trying to figure out why the chart notes still aren't here. Aaaaaaa!

There's enough crap floating about the world. Crazy people need to get themselves some help so they can give up contributing to it. If this is you, stop being defensive about it. Stephen Hawking needs a wheelchair and loads of specialized hard and software help every single day just to keep breathing, much less communicate. That's the help he needs. Figure out what you need and stop torturing the rest of the planet over it. Chances are the ones suffering the most because of your issues (and we all have some, yes, even you) are the ones who love you the most and would do anything to help you figure your stuff out. I mean it: anything. All you need to do is know that and breathe out a request for help. The universe and it's Creator stand waiting to deliver what you need in the most unlikely ways. Ask and it will be given unto you. Seek and you will find. Knock and doors you didn't even know how to look for will open. So ask. Seek. Knock. Live in hope, baby. Make some progress with yourself. Life is too short to do otherwise.

Well, shoot. Here I set myself up for a full head of steam late night rant and I find that I'm really lacking in material. Ha! Who knew?

Oh wait. I need it to stop raining long enough for me to mow the lawn--the bunnies can't keep up with it anymore. There.

I suppose I could always moan about people who are purposefully stupid. They get on my very last nerve. You know, the folks who bury their heads so that they don't have to acknowledge that there's anything going on so they can avoid personal accountability? Politics, etc. come to mind. Nah. This election cycle just isn't getting my back up. Hmmm.

Perhaps I could switch from a good complain to a list of blessings? Alrighty then, here goes. We'll start with the kids, because........ because I'm the mom, that's why.

Q is the cutest little guy ever and his laughs and progress keep me sane. (I'm not exaggerating.) If I feel that the world is about to devour me whole, it takes only a baby smile or coo of recognition and I am rescued.

S wants so badly to read and helping her do "M. muhmuhmuhmuhmuh--mmmmoon" a million times a day is so poignantly sweet it makes my stomach do flip-flops.

K is really reading well, though this is the age where she will insist that she can't read despite masses of evidence to the contrary. Goofy girl.

E has a humble spirit. Wow. This kid asks for forgiveness because she wants to preserve the integrity of a relationship. It is humbling to me to witness this and be on the receiving end of it.

G shopped this evening for a birthday present for a certain young lady in his class because she's nice and he appreciates that. None of us has any idea when her birthday actually is.

My parents. I do not know how they do it, having us here, working full time, and not losing their minds. Let's face it, the kids and I have some baggage right now, and the children seem to be at the height of their entropy careers. This is a safe place to be (as long as mommy doesn't snap under the rest of the details) and I am so profoundly grateful to have it.

Flowers rock. The rhododendrons in the woods are discreetly popping out red blooms. Something I always referred to as "candy flower" while growing up is out en force. It's pink, and precious to a person lower to the ground than us grown-ups. (It's probably a weed.) Some of the foxgloves look like they're going to be really tall this year, well over six feet. The plant that looks like miniature snapdragons is happier than we had thought it would be after having tree limbs dragged over it for hours over a couple of days. I wonder if it will be purple or pink in that bed? Hmm.

The cottonwood fluff, which should be making me crazy with allergies, is lying about in drifts. Depending on one's mood, it looks either like a late snow or like the lawns have begun to mold. Funny that it can get around so well in this weather, isn't it? It seems that it dries quickly and is wily. It is on a mission, after all. (To take over the planet, of course. You weren't aware of that?) I'm happy about not having major reactions to the stuff floating in the air this year. Perhaps God has given me a break this season? I like that idea.

I'm up early again in the morning. So I'd better head for bed. No, really. You should be too.

Sleep well.

Progress

So last week was not nearly as busy as the previous one, thank God. This one will hold it's own, though.

At PT, Q's therapist and the OT in charge of orthotics were really excited to see that his thumbs are out. He's been wearing his little splints for about ten hours every night, and I'm working on the webbing between thumb and forefinger 2 or 3 times a day. He also gets rubs on his teeny little pecs, biceps, and lats and I'm trying to get him to cooperate with PNF (proprioceptive neuromuscular function*) therapy because it's benefits are 2-3 times that of just rubbing the muscle from one attachment through the belly of the muscle to the other attachment. Also, I started doing stuff to get him to actively touch his feet and then cross the midline with hands to knees and toes. I'm continuing to work to have his arms positioned appropriately when he's on his tummy, and he seems to be resisting that less.

The night before his last appointment, Q had awful reflux. He couldn't settle down for anything and when he finally passed out, I realized he didn't have his splints on. I can't get them on tiny sleeping hands--it's like trying to build with soft-set jello--and I wasn't about to wake him up after the evening we had. So I watched his little hands off and on throughout the night. His thumbs were outside his fists. But, best of all, most of the time, his hands were open and his thumbs were almost at the appropriate angle! None of this sounds like a big deal to the general public, but let me tell ya, the therapists and I did a happy dance right there. That much improvement in just two weeks is amazing, and it bodes well for the possibility of future improvement.

Based on all that, it would seem he's beginning to recognize that he has hands and feet and is beginning to initiate activity with them. Friday morning he grabbed his toes when I was working on his right side. Yesterday, a friend was holding him and he actually grabbed a Skittles package that she held up against his fingers!!

I feel so terribly grateful to have some formal training in massage. Otherwise, the learning curve, which is steep anyway, would have me unconscious on the floor with appendages flailing in the air. Oh dear. Now I'm having visions of dying cockroaches. Neat.

As busy as things are around here, last week was much calmer and the results of the effort expended obvious. It was a good week. We even made it to church earlier than we have since the punkin was born!

On Tuesday, Q has shots and measurements. Poor baby. This coming Friday he has his MRI. Big sigh. I am worried about the sedation, and keeping him hungry for that so he won't spit up and aspirate. I haven't heard from the anesthesia people yet, so maybe he won't have to starve. He doesn't do hunger well at all. I don't know many babies who do.

On another subject, I'm requesting prayers from the planet at large for the events of Monday. It's going to be a big day for my family and I desperately want there to be good things out of all this for the kids. If there was anything I could do to stop the trauma I would. I would give anything, anything, to be able to fix this for them... So I'm praying that there will be cool heads all around, that the people who will be in that room together will be compelled to do the very best things that can be done. And that I won't lose my mind while walking a road I never would have chosen. Your thoughts and prayers are appreciated.

Thanks for hanging with me in all this. The support, in all it's many forms, astounds me. You all are awesome and I will never be able to adequately express my abiding gratitude.

I'm going to try to get back here very soon and write more about the whole story of Q. In the meantime, have a blessed, calm, irreplaceable week. And remember to tell your family that you're happy they're yours.

Pax.

(*Edited 5/19/06: It's "facilitation" rather than "function." Doh. Hand slapping forehead. If you're interested in learning more about it, google "facilitated stretching," which also happens to be the name of class and textbook I had in massage school.)

Reading up...

So I've been Googling. I have seen the CT and xray reports (what the radiologists write upon reading the films). Also the EEG reports, which are full of very big words that boggle the mind. It took some doing, but I've been able to deduce that "synchronous sleep spindles" are a good thing, that Q has them, but the amplitude isn't what it should be. Whatever that means. Maybe nothing.

One of the terms that was a little easier to nail down is "colpocephaly." It is defined as "a brain disorder in which there is an abnormal enlargement of the occipital horns of the brain. This enlargement occurs when there is an underdevelopment or lack of thickening of the white matter of the brain." It is characterized by microcephaly and mental retardation. So I look up microcephaly. I'm aware that I may be deeply in denial, but in the midst of the definition it says, "Microcephaly is often equated with developmental delay and mental retardation. However, not all children with microcephaly are mentally retarded."

Well. That's a good start, right?

Q's microcephaly is congenital. It is defined as "An abnormally small head due to failure of brain growth." According to the neuro guy, this is precisely what's going on. The issue of colpocephaly complicates things further as it's an obvious and specific defect in brain development, though the precise implications of any of this are as yet unknown. I do know that my titers for any possible intrauterine infections (rubella, toxoplasmosis, cytomegalovirus, etc.) were negative and Q's karyotype came back exhibiting "normal male chromosomes". There are contiguous gene syndromes and genetic disorders which could cause this, but none seems to be indicated at this time.

The bad news: "On average, life expectancy for individuals with microcephaly is reduced and the prognosis for normal brain function is poor." Hmmm.

And still the little guy continues to coo and gurgle. He's started focusing on the mobile above his swing. He's discovered his nose. (I love that face they make when they're trying to back up and get a better look at the thing that's sprouting from between their eyes--mouth scrunched, eyes crossed, chin tucked in. Too cute!) Yesterday he watched intently as his arm went by his face. Today he's twelve weeks old. So what is he supposed to be doing that he's not? I keep thinking that there must be some mistake--yet all the tests say in the "reason" section: developmental delay. Maybe I am just in deep denial.

One very interesting article I found on MedicineNet.com (all quotes are from MedicineNet.com) discusses a study on intelligence in children. Apparently, the amount of gray matter is not the indicator of intelligence, rather, it is related to "cortical growth patterns." It would seem that having a thinner cortex in the very beginning of one's life (which then grows and thins again in a specific pattern) is associated with being scary smart later on. Q has a thin cortex over the occipital horns.

Who knows what any of this means? Perhaps reading all of this is just something for me to do instead of losing my mind?

In the meantime, some happy things:
E sang with her class for church this week. She and her compatriots were marvelous. Exuberant and practiced and marvelous.
The girls and Q and I participated in communion. I think the girls actually kind of "got it." Very cool. Q hiccuped loudly through the whole thing--cracking up the nice couple next to us.
G loves his little brother so much that he's willing to make up verses to "Hush Little Baby"--the little guy's favorite lullaby--when Q is fussy. No machismo there yet. :o)
K is sight reading about twenty words, sounding out more. Yay!! I love this stuff.
S is S. Silly and bouncy and chomping at the bit to do all the stuff her sisters do. Now if I could only influence the child to keep the scissors away from her head and to hold still long enough to eat a little more at mealtimes...
Strawberries and ganache for breakfast this morning. You should come visit. :o)
My folks, housing the kids and I through all this insanity and being so supportive in all the other ways too.
My sweet brother and sister-in-law who took the kids to play and shop today. Wow.
Sleep.

G'night. Sweet dreams to you, wherever you are.

Late night growls and gratitude...

Q is sick again with a hacking cough. I'm hoping he'll be better in the morning or I'll be on my way to the peds office. Sigh.

This poor little guy just can't catch a break. This is his third cold and he's only eleven weeks old! The last one had him on a nebulizer with inhaled steroids. Argh.

_______________

Since I've been feeling sucker punched and whiny lately, I thought I should maybe speak a little to the good stuff.

Tonight I am grateful for.....
...healthy (most of the time), growing kids who constantly crack me up
...friends and family who hold me up in prayer constantly and prop me up just when I need it most, every time
...flannel sheets
...really good frozen pizza from Trader Joe's
...a roof and walls and heat
...a free concert for the kids at church last night. The girls loved it (we have the video), the boys not so much--G thought it was too stupid to live through, Q was a little wired by all the activity. As the sun set, it streamed through the huge stained glass window over the baptistry. The sight of all the kids bouncing around and singing at the tops of their little lungs just below the image of Christ coming again, surrounded by angels, the New Jerusalem in the background... I was crying (because music does that to me). It was beautiful, one of those moments that freezes in time.
...chocolate. Always.
...a good vacuum (Dyson ball) and floors on which to use it, even if it's when everyone is asleep because it's just been that kind of day
...a sleeping baby. He's so beautiful, I find myself holding my breath as I watch him sleep.
...ten sweet sleeping cheeks to kiss before I retire
...a good brain that (mostly) serves my well and keeps me on my toes trying to figure out it's quirks
...the drive to do this mama thing again, every day, until the kids don't need me to anymore :o)
...this blog on which to vent and reorganize
...vitamins
...the shower, for crying in, when I feel like I'm going to just crack in half
...good stuff to read, and more good stuff to read, an endless supply of good stuff to read
...did I mention flannel sheets? I'm going to go crawl in between them now.

I've got to have the kids out the door at 7:45 so G and E can make it to school on time. Sighing there. I can think of better ways to be using that time, especially with a sick, nursing baby and all. C'est la vie, right? Right?

Sweet dreams. And if you're still up, why? Shouldn't you be in bed at this hour? ;o)