Please Don't Take Me Seriously

I Knew I Was In Trouble When I Got to the Gas Station Without a Screwdriver and Other Tales of Recent Woes

2011-12-27T19:49:00.000-08:00

Well, not exactly recent "woes" because that sounds so self-pitying and whiny. Now, to be honest, I can be self-pitying and whiny, but desire NOT to be. So, let me clarify: woes should be characterized as "hardships." Sounds more biblical, huh? So, onto the screwdriver part. Our newer used car Tim and I recently purchased I call the "Wannabe Lexus Camry" because it has fancy Lexus hubcaps but is a dented and scratched up 12 year-old Camry. It had very low mileage and we were thrilled with the deal we got. We needed the car to save gas and wear and tear on our almost 9 year-old Suburban and because Elena will be driving independently soon. So, I made the painful discovery several weeks back that the lever next to the driver's seat does NOT open up the gas tank door and neither do my keys jammed into it. I needed a screwdriver to jam the door open. I had put one in my car, but couldn't find it and forgot about it besides. When I realized, with an empty tank of gas, that I needed a screwdriver, after having gone out of my way late at night to get gas, I was NOT HAPPY. I was also too embarrassed to ask the gas station attendant if he had one. So, off to my house on fumes I drove. I did get gas the next day and all was well. I have since discovered that if I stick a tube of lipstick to hold the lever up then I can open the gas can door just fine. Who would have thought how many uses I could get out of a tube of lipstick?!

At the beginning of the semester....

And then there was the situation with my Sadistics professor....Yes, you read that right. Let's just say that this paragraph could be titled, "I Knew I Was In Trouble When I Arrived At My Statistics Final ON TIME and All Nine of My Classmates Were Already There Getting The First Part of A Two Hour Lecture That We Would Be Tested On Later That Night." Let me add something about a picky professor who seemingly delights in tormenting people, my utter exhaustion, and him failing me on the spot. I will say, in a word: injustice. I had so prayed that I would pass this class and, even though I cried on all three trains on the ride home from that nightmare final, I felt a peace that God would come through and that I would be awarded the paltry "C" I had rightfully earned.
And I was. After two e-mails and many prayers, my Statistics professor called me 2 days before Christmas to inform me that I had earned a C. He had some negative remarks about my class work the last three weeks of class, too. I pressed him on my most recent test scores and they were an A and a B. I bluntly told him that I felt I had done rather well recently. There was one area, and in his mind THE MOST IMPORTANT part of statistics that had confused me. Whatever. He also thanked me for making the class enjoyable. Yes, I was a bit of a class clown because that man tormented us at times with his teaching style and making jokes and good-natured fun of HIM was a coping mechanism. He happened to like it. Good for me. Good for him. He was actually rather sweet on the phone. I hung up, relieved and grateful that God had come through for me.

....at the end of the semester

   And then there were the windstorms. This paragraph could be titled, "I Knew I Was In Trouble When News Reports Indicated A Prediction of DAYS Without Electricity, 'But We're Working On It.'" The cold, the DARKNESS, the groping around, the discouragement of life being interrupted, the struggle to figure out where I was gong to charge my iPod and my phone, the rotting food in the fridge, the expense of eating out, trips to the laundromat, and on and on and on. Not to mention needing to study in a quiet, warm place with lights. Where was I going to study?! That was a pressing question and I had a hard time getting in the studying that I needed to do. I think it did affect my grades. But what was I going to do? It was challenging to be without power for 5 days. We had never been without power for more than 12 hours or so. There's a first time for everything, right?
   But the lights and the heat and the power sources did come on. There was something awe-inspiring about seeing that line of massive Edison work vehicles slowly making their way through the streets to restore power. It was cool, even as I waited for heat.
   And so, the Christmas season has just about passed. It was a strange season. I don't think I wrapped one Christmas present. My girls did all the wrapping. I was the least excited about this Christmas than I had ever been. I don't know why. That was kind of discouraging. Yet, I enjoyed the hymns and Chistmas carols at church more than I ever had. Perhaps my focus is cleared and the "fluffy" things of the world are less appealing?I'd like to think so.
   So I have a week or so before the New Year begins. Time to rethink, re plan, regroup and ask God for a fresh vision and a new supply of grace and encouragement. I know he won't disappoint me. I just need to ask Him.

Madonna & Child and a Covered Belly

2011-10-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

   I was in Costco this morning having my groceries rung up for me when the man standing in line behind me says, in a thick foreign-born accent, "You look like a madonna." I looked at him and said, "Well, I do have six kids."
   Shocked, he replied, "Madonna has six kids?!"
   "No," I replied, "I have six kids. You know, like a 'Madonna and Child'"?" He looked at me, puzzled. I went on to explain, "You kow the portraits from centuries ago with the mother figure holding a baby? She was called a 'madonna with child.'" Both he and register clerk looked confused and puzzled. I dropped the issue, mumbling, "I was trying to deflect the compliment."
   Not that looking like Madonna is a compliment. I don't even think it's true, except that I do have a hair color and style that is similar to some pictures I've seen of her. That woman changes her hair style and color so frequently that I have no idea what she currently looks like. She also, at least in the past, would frequently bare her belly. I DO NOT bare my belly. It isn't attractive to view stretch marks, cellulite, fat, and extra flabby skin on a 41 year old woman who's had six big babies.. That is the view you'd have of me if I pulled a classic Madonna wardrobe attempt. Even if it wasn't immodest (which it most definitely is), it would be gross.
   In fact, I had to tell a disappointed Tim that, despite all my weight loss, the belly flab is here to stay, short of liposuction. Part genetic inheritance from my mom and grandma, bearing lots of big babies, and too much weight gained over the years and you have my unsightly belly. Oh well. I don't really care. I have shrunk it with MUFA's (mono-unsaturated fatty acids) foods described in the Flat Belly Diet and I certainly do care about the health risks of belly fat. I do abdominal exercises everyday. There's nothing more I can do. So, it is what it is.
   It triggered a weird memory, though. While waiting for my doctor during my 38th week pregnancy appointment, I got up to pick up a magazine. While reaching for it, I heard his "tap, tap" at the door. I put the magazine down. As my doctor entered, he picked up the magazine and said, "Do you want to read about Madonna?" On the cover of Vanity Fair that month was, you guessed it, Madonna. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "No." Because really, I didn't. He tossed the magazine on top of the others and said, 'Yeah, who cares." Oddly enough, she was an OB patient of his for both of her pregnancies! I suspect she returned from London just to see him again for her prenatal care with her second baby. What's ironic about that scenario is that he is one of the few non-family people that she should have bared her belly to! Anyway, I am positive that he cared about Madonna Ciccone, the patient, but not really Madonna the celebrity. And I certainly did not look like her then, nor have I ever tried.
   Weird. Really weird.

Madonna - the real one

Me, the real me (Yeah, I didn't think so. Perhaps the guy was new to the LA area and was on hyper-alert for celebrity look-alikes.)

Smoothing Out A Rough Start

2011-10-10T22:43:00.000-07:00

   On the last day of August school began with a bang for all of us, except Tim who started at his new school several weeks earlier. Among the eight people in our family, five of us started at new schools. Being math minded these days, I calculated that that is over 60% of us making adjustments that have been, well, rather rough at spots. Daisy, new to kindergarten, has fared well. Camille, surprisingly at Pasadena High School this year, has also adjusted remarkably well, too. She has new friends, is doing well in her studies, and has said, "I'm so glad I was home schooled for as long as I was, but I'm glad to be in school now." However, the rough spots for her were managing a sticky locker, a really crowded school with long distances between classes, and figuring out that she can't eat small snacks throughout the day like she used to at home. Having an ornery, mean English teacher who scolds students for sneezing too loudly has been an interesting adjustment as well. Her Spanish teacher is an absolute blast, however, and her stories of his off-the-wall ways have me in stitches. (I think I might need to bring him home - or ban him.) All in all, she loves school and I'm pleased with how diligently and responsibly she has approached her school work. She's also made some really nice friends which has been a source of comfort and encouragement to her as well as relief for me.
   Tim has had some rough times with his new job location, although he did pick up an extra hour of teaching and extra pay. Thank you, Lord! He's had an adjustment to his classes, too, which has proven to be better overall. I am at Los Angeles Trade Techincal College in downtown Los Angeles just blocks from Staples Center. I think I've had the roughest adjustment in figuring out traffic patterns, length of commute, parking, location of my classes, and pick-up and drop-off arrangements for my girls, childcare for Julia, and overall time management regarding when I can carve out time for studying. I've struggled with anger and resentment at how hard it's been to adjust to all the changes and the tremendous stress and pessure I have felt. I had to acknowledge that my bitterness was towards God and that I somehow blamed him for these difficuluties. As much as I felt he directed me into my current season, I also made these choices. All that being said, I'm confident I'm where God wants me.
   For starters, I love being away from home for a couple of hours a week and away from dishes, laundry, errands, and monotony. I cherish the academic learning environment because for so many years that intellectual part of my brain was on a bit of a break. I also feel envisioned with specific, measurable goals and a loose time frame that brings comfort, anticipation, and ambition. I have lacked a clear vision for so long that part of me struggled with depression and discouragement. And yet, being home and having babies for the last 16 years has brought me to the place I am and has made me the woman I've become. Those precious, challenging, beautiful and trying babies have been the change agents God has used to refine me and mold me and bring about the vision I feel he's given me. Those years and my precious daughters, along with my hardworking husband, are undeniably the most important people in my life and will always hold front and center in my heart. Most of my ambition comes from a desire to serve them, provide for them ,and be an example for them.
   Lastly, Julia has started pre-school two mornings a week last week. She loves it and is so excited to go. This pre-school class is taught by a wonderful, experienced pre-school taecher in an affordable co-op situation. Two mornings a week I have almost three hours to myself to do...what else? Study at the library. (Although I must confess, I have gone on a couple of shopping trips, too.) Julia needs an environment with her same-age peers for her speech therapy and I need a block of undistracted time to study. It is nice to know, though, that I can run errands, clean house, go out to lunch with a friend, go to a doctor's appointment, or do "whatever" without Julia while giving Elena plenty of time to study.
   Regarding Elena, her physics class is very rigorous. She also had intense lifeguard training the first few weeks of school which resulted in her certification as a lifeguard. I was so proud of her! She will be applying for a position at the Rose Bowl in the next few weeks. Also in the next few weeks she will be starting her driver's license classes and training. It is a very full season for her as well. She remains a tremendous helper to me.
And....drum roll please...I finally have Julia's speech therapy sessions scheduled at the girls' elementary school which coincides perfectly with me being able to help out in each of my three girls' classes. Amazing! Astonishing! Everything has fallen into place so beautifully! Yay!
Now that I've been in school for over a month and slugging my way through Chemistry and Statistics, I've felt more settled with my school routine. Now I just have to persevere through the semester and finish well. So, at this point I'm ready for a nap!

Growling Belly and Gurgling Bubbles

2011-08-27T12:03:00.000-07:00

These last few weeks of summer have been challenging and amazing in a variety of ways. I'm almost at the end of my 20 day fast with the Lord's Table II and I've lost just under 15 pounds. Wow! I'm thinner than I've been in 6 years and I feel so much better. It hasn't been without its unique hardships, however. Planning meals and cooking for a family of 7, and having the audacity to try new recipes...what was I thinking?! And yet, I was told they were tasty. Hearing the *crunch* *crunch* of my little Sunday School students munching their Saltines almost made me grab the whole sleeve of crackers and inhale them like Cookie Monster does with cookies on Sesame Street. I refrained, however. Or lying in bed at night and hearing my belly growling and churning and finally surrendering to sleep despite the discomfort. Oddly enough, waking up not so hungry, though. It has been a juice and smoothie fast, so I haven't struggled with low blood sugar. In fact, I've had more energy than normal and have been able to get in a fairly rigorous swim workout every morning.
Ah! The return of my first-love sport - swimming.

Before: July of '10 just before starting The Lord's Table I

   I swam competitively as a child. I have vivid memories of weekend-long invitational meets and waiting for my race to be up. I remember the nervousness as I got to those blocks and then *pow!* the gun went off and so did I. I wasn't a fast swimmer or particularly talented at any stroke, but I enjoyed it. In high school I began to swim competitively again. The exercise throughout my high school years was so helpful to me. I still wasn't a very fast swimmer, but I had fun.
   And so now, in my early 40's I've found a way to start swimming again and oh, how soothing and invigorating it is! I delight in watching the bubbles I exhale in the water gurgle up to the surface as I pull my arms through the water. One particular and lovely memory I will always cherish occurred last week. I was in an outdoor pool and doing back stroke kicking with a kickboard. I stretched my body out as straight as I could and pulled my tummy muscles in. As I kicked, I felt myself floating and gliding through the water. I gazed at the gauzy clouds above and the blue sky and breathed in a sweet, enchanted breath. "Oh, Lord, how beautiful the sky is this morning!" I sensed God looking down at me and smiling, keeping close watch over every breath I took, every move of my muscles, every wet hair on my head swaying in the water....and lovingly enjoying my pleasure in the beautiful morning he had created for me.
   Oh, what a glorious and precious Creator who calls me by name!

After The Lord's Table II - August '11 - 40 lbs. lighter

Funny People Should Be Banned or Move in With You

2011-08-12T22:44:00.000-07:00

Let me explain the title. This last week, I was observing one of my daughters' swimming classes. Her instructor is F*U*N*N*Y. His energy is over the top. In the spring, Daisy had this same instructor and I remember hearing him clear across the pool. I then saw him run around in circles on the pool deck yelling, very loudly, "Okay kids! Let's jump in!" and then seeing him jump in the pool with a loud splash. He would enthusiastically teach the kids their requisite swimming skills and his instruction was very thorough, enthusiastic, and energetic. Daisy later called him "crazy" because he "runs around and then jumps in the pool." I thought he was a great instructor. He got Daisy swimming her "scoops" with her head face down and not holding her nose. Yeehaw!

Daisy's swim teacher "coaching" her class on their win!

   Fast forward to a couple of days ago. The instructors and students of several classes joined together for a rambunctious, splashy game of "sharks and minnows." He carefully instructed his "Advanced Tiny Tot" class to stay near him against the wall so that his whole class got safely across. He then proudly and loudly exclaimed, "MY WHOLE CLASS GOT ACROSS!" When one of the other instructors made a move to tag one of the instructor's students he jumped on her and dunked her in the water. She came up laughing as all of his students made it across. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. That just scratches the surface. There are various other amusing things he does and says that make me chuckle. His energy and sharp wit combined make an entertaining person to watch. In fact, he would be fun to take home. He would probably have our whole family laughing on a regular basis. And wouldn't that be a scream?
   But, of course, how would I explain the 25 year old man who suddenly started living with us? He's our family comedian that we feed so that he'll make us laugh? No. That wouldn't work. And what 25 year old man would ever want to live with our crazy family of girls and Tim's quirky ways? Yeah. I didn't think so. That would be too weird. I don't set out to be purposely weird. Really. I don't.
   The next option would be to ban him. When someone is that funny they shouldn't be around. It's too hard not to see them on a regular basis because the laughter becomes addictive, sort of. I remember one person years ago who had me in stitches on a regular basis. I don't see him anymore and quite frankly, I miss him at times. He should have been banned way before I met him because I don't like missing people. It hurts my heart in this raw, gushy spot.
   My sister's boyfriend, Dave, is another very funny person. His humor is d...r...y... and quick. He says the wackiest, funniest things so quietly and quickly, that if you're not paying attention, you'll miss it. I usually catch it and am laughing myself an aerobic workout. He hasn't moved in with us, but he comes over regularly enough so that it keeps me in a funny fix. I make sure I feed him tasty food so that he keeps coming by.
   I don't know why I like funny people so much. I just do. I appreciate the intelligence behind many styles of humor. I don't know many people who are funny without being very intelligent and perceptive as well. Perhaps I so appreciate a good laugh every now and again because it offsets the gloom I feel at times. Or, perhaps I sense it's a foretaste of what I know eternity will be like. And how how I long for that day at times. People erroneously say that hell will be fun because they will be partying with all their friends there. No, not even close. Heaven will be that deliciously wonderful place filled with laughter of all different kinds; the kind of laughter that bubbles from your mouth and fills your entire being with deep, penetrating JOY and magnificent delight. In fact, when I think of those I love that have passed on, I remember their laughter quite clearly. And of course, I then miss them. That's why they've been banned. And at the right time, I'll move in with them!

Soothing Swinging and Seasons of Life

2011-07-30T22:47:00.000-07:00

   I went out to my backyard tonight to swing. Yes, you read that right - swing. In my childhood years my mom had a hammock swing hooked up in our family room. She would swing me so many times one way, and so many times another way. It was "vestibular therapy" to straighten out the crossed wires in my brain, or something like that. I don't know how much benefit was gained, but it was fun! Throughout my childhood, I loved to swing on swings. In my adolescence I would swing on the swings at the little neighborhood park down the street from my house. One particularly sad Christmas night stands out now as I'm reflecting back. I was lonely on Christmas night, so I walked down the street in the dark and swang for about an hour or two. Quite a sad sight....but the swinging was therapeutic - once again. Somehow, strangely, I didn't feel so lonely anymore...

   A tense, painful conversation tonight-
   Embarrassing, yet tempting, glances I noticed earlier today (for crying out loud! What's wrong with you?! I'm an old lady with 6 kids! Please do NOT look at me like that young, handsome boy-man!)-
   And the loneliness - still there....different expectations, different situations, different people....same feeling
   And so, off to the swings I went to cry and pray and talk to my Friend. As I swung higher and higher and relished the dark night sky and bright, white stars, my soul was stirred and drawn to Jesus, my BFF - truly and amazingly. I discussed with him various things, I cried, I felt my tears drip down my face and wondered what my makeup looked like now....The swinging was so soothing to my jerked up, raw emotions.
   It seems to me that swinging can be quite helpful to many people. I think it might hearken back to the moving, rocking and calming sensations a baby experiences in its mother's womb. At night, as I would lay down for the evening, my babies -all of them -would become wakeful and start moving all around. The lulling movement of the day had ceased for a considerable period and they were now awake! Yee ha! And I was trying to settle down for the night. Preparation for that newborn period I'm sure.
   Maybe, just maybe, the loneliness and struggles I face at times are the stilling period of the night during various seasons of my life. Perhaps God is calling me to "stir" during those periods toward Him, toward his word, his promises, his truth. A birth is impending, perhaps into a new season, perhaps into a new life that he is preparing me for. Babies need healthy muscle tone and all that activity in the womb prepares them for health and vitality after their birth. Perhaps my night swinging and praying, crying, "having it out" with God is preparing me for this next season. Okay....so who knows? I seem to liken so much to pregnancy, childbirth and mamas and babies that perhaps I'm taking the analogy too far. But I can't help but wonder if those pictures and correlations are how God speaks to me....how he knows the language I understand....

With Sympathy....

2011-07-22T15:51:00.000-07:00

So, there I was. I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. My stepbrother, oh so tragically young (not even 50) passed away this week. Tim and some of our girls were heading out later that night for the long drive to where the funeral would be taking place. I needed to purchase a card to express our condolences. My plan was to send it in several weeks when perhaps the initial flood of cards, flowers, meals, and calls had lessened. I wanted my card to be one more reminder that there are relatives who cared and were sorry for their beloved's loss.

In the greeting card section at Target, I warily started looking through the cards. Sending wishes your way that you find comfort in knowing how they are in a better place now.... or So sorry for your loss, words can't express how much he meant to us... and I'll never forget his smile, his laughter...it will live on in our memories... There were cards that were religious, like With sympathy...praying that you feel God's comfort in this time of loss. I definitely wanted a card that included that I was praying, not just wishing, that they would find God's comfort, not just "comfort." How do you adequately express how sad you are and how much you want to bring them some measure of comfort, even with a silly card?
As I browsed through card after card, finding one or two I liked, tears bubbled up and trickled down my cheeks. I was so relieved that I was alone in the aisle. I couldn't help but feel the stinging sadness, yanking at my heart, of losing my stepbrother. I imagined the effort it took for his wife and kids to sort of momentarily put their grief, shock, and pain off in a corner in a massive box labeled with a jagged and precise pen that said: GRIEF-OPEN LATER AND WRESTLE WITH AND PROCESS FOR YEARS AND YEARS ON END. In my troubled spirit I couldn't push away an irreverent desire to find a bold, brutally honest card that read something like this:

With Sympathy...

Death sucks!

I hate it!

All that is wrong with the world has to do with death!

I'm so mad that you lost this man you so loved, A man that had one of the kindest hearts ever!

And when you feel angry, too, or just want to cry - I'll be here for you

Something to that effect. However, Leanne showed up after several minutes of my card-perusing and popped a card into my hand. "I like this one," she declared. That Leanne of mine has such a perceptive, discerning mind that as I looked at the card, I noticed it was one of my top choices. I immediately placed it into the cart and off we were. "Mom," Leanne inquired, "why were you crying?"

"Oh," I muttered, "just because." I really need to get better at explaining things.

It's All Those Q?U?E?S?T?I?O?N?S !!!!

2011-06-27T19:17:00.000-07:00

   Want to know what one of the most wearying parts of my job is as a mother of six girls ages 2 to 15? All their questions! Yikes! I actually try to give intelligent, thoughtful, educational, and appropriate answers to each one of them, mostly out of habit. Sometimes I find myself muttering, "I don't know....Huh? What was that you said?"
   My youngest child says, "WHY?!" to everything.
   "Julia, please come here for your bath."
   "!Why?!"
   "Because it's time for your bath. You need a bath tonight."
   "!Why?!"
     And then I have another daughter who notices EVERYTHING and feels the need to comment on my decisions in question form.
   "I thought you said we would go to the mall today. Aren't we going like you said?" and
   "So and So and So and So took the last of the M&M's and you told them not to. Are you going to do anything about it?" and
   "Didn't you say we were going to have pizza for dinner tonight? Why are we eating chicken?"
   I have yet another daughter who is uber-curious. I've just answered the phone and am engaged in a new conversation. "Who is it?! Who's calling? Who's on the phone?" To which I answer with irritation and a harsh whisper, "So and So! Now stop interrupting me!" Sometimes I find myself purposely not answering her questions because she never stops wanting to know everything there is to know about anything and everything that is going on around her.
   And there is the frequent line of questioning that goes something like this: "Where is my purple thingy?"
   "What purple thingy?"
   "You know - the purple thingy that we got last week at that place we went to?"
   "What place?"
   "Oh, never mind!"
   OKAY.
   Yet another oft-heard conversation in our house: "Where are my shoes?"
   "Where you left them."
   I have yet another daughter who will say something like, "Why is the moon white?" to which I reply, "Go ask your Dad!" Tim has lots of questions referred to him because he is Mr. Smarty Pants, really and truly.

   UGH! and SIGH...I'm sure I'm doing something wrong by either 1) being irritated by all my daughters' questions, or 2) raising daughters that have so many questions! I'm not sure which one it is, but I suspect I'm doing something wrong by feeling irritated. I find it mentally fatiguing to always be "on" and having to answer questions, though. When my girls were little their whining was really challenging for me. Now that they still whine, but can do it articulately, and with questions, I'm even more challenged!
   I think it boils down to the fact that I really like my own space to keep my thoughts to myself and not have demands made of me. I want to be selfish and self-absorbed and all those questions interrupt my own internal dialogue, forcing me to think and consider and attend to their inquiring minds. Sometimes I feel that they need correction for asking questions out of rudeness or challenging authority, when they should accept the situation they are faced with and not question so many things.I take some of those questions as a sign of discontent and an attitude of ungratefulness and complaining. Not always, though. Sometimes they are just curious. And being curious is a very beneficial quality that I hope they maintain for the rest of their lives.
   I myself am a curious, question-asker. There is almost no subject that bores me. I learn so much from asking people questions and engaging in fact-finding missions with complete strangers. The stories I hear! The people I meet! The things they tell me! Wow! It really is fascinating. Everyone has a story and as I listen and observe and discern the heart and spirit of a person I've just met who is sharing their story, I discover evidences of God's imprint on them, his hand on their life, or their need for his compassion and wisdom. And there I am. Sometimes I reflect his care for them , and sometimes I don't.
   Now if only I could remember that my girls have their story, too, and that I'm called to reflect his compassion, patience, and gentleness to them, too. Oh, Lord, give me wisdom, the right answers, and mental endurance! Oh, and please, add in a heavy dose of humor, too!

As a side note, have you ever noticed that boring people are NOT curious?

I Hate Goodbyes

2011-06-16T22:45:00.000-07:00

   I am really bad at goodbyes. I'd rather just not say goodbye and leave while the "leavers" don't notice. I don't mean to be rude, although this certainly can be viewed as quite rude. I just hate goodbyes. I'm still trying to figure out why. Last week presented an opportunity at getting better at goodbyes. My neighbors from across the street were relocating to their retirement home in Arizona after having sold their home.
   Only a few short weeks ago (almost unbelievable in this real estate market - and yet, their home is fabulous and showed extremely well), I first noticed the "For Sale" sign appear in the front yard. Tim hadn't told me he had a conversation with Tom weeks prior in which Tom had mentioned that they were going to be selling their home.
   I saw the sign. I started crying.
     Needless to say, I chatted with them throughout the weeks that escrow liteally ripped by. I kept going over the friendly conversations with Kathy, who had lived in the neighborhood for over 50 years. I recounted all the talks we had on the front lawn about various things. She was so direct, yet kind and thoughtful. She was a godly woman who was devoted to her husband. I saw her as a kind of mother, although I have never tried to replace my mom. How could I? She was one of a kind! And I mean that in the most positive way.
   I was helped in the gradual process of saying goodbye to Tom and Kathy by meeting the new neighbors. And when the neighborhood goodbye party beckoned, I went and scoialized with all my neighbors. But I didn't say goodbye to Tom and Kathy - yet. I knew they were leaving early the next morning. Sure enough, I noticed the huge moving van out in front of their house by at least 7 am. I kept making excuses as to why I couldn't go over just then to say goodbye. Eventually, as they were about to leave, I was able to get some pictures and say goodbye. It wasn't so bad. It was satisfying to say goodbye in the right and proper way.
   There have been other goodbyes this springtime, too. I had my last MOPS meeting a few weeks ago. Those women at my table were very sweet and fun to get to know. With school plans for this fall, I don't have any extra time for MOPS next fall. Besides, I'm really eager to volunteer at a nearby hospital starting in the summer. So, this was my last MOPS meeting. I was a little sad, but not terribly so.
   One last goodbye awaited me several weeks ago. I droppped Elena off to babysit near my friend Doris's home. She was leaving the next day for the suburbs of Las Vegas with her three children. Her divorce is very close to being final and she had finally found a job and a place to live. I swung my car around the corner and was pleased to see her children playing outside. I parked and asked her kids if their Mom was home. I then got Julia out and went to where her car was parked and surpised her. We talked for about 10 minutes and then I hugged her goodbye and wished her well. "I'll be praying for you," I mentioned as I departed. And I will.
   I had met Doris when our children started preschool together in the fall of 2007. When I first met her I was struck with how vivacious and beautiful she was. She was so friendly and upbeat. I would later learn of many trials she had with her husband and children in regard to extensive medical issues. (She could practically be doctor at this point!) We became better friends through my last pregnancy and then through her last pregnancy. We talked about all sorts of stuff and she always remained warm, kind and fun to be with. I am going to miss her a lot.
   And then my favorite librarian left my favorite library. Boo-hoo. It's just so sad.
   Although I relish the balmy weather and bursting blooms of springtime, there are usually too many goodbyes during this time of year. I wish I didn't get so attached to people so that saying goodbye would be easier. But I do. And it really is better to have those treasured friendships, even from afar. I felt God reminding me, ever so tenderly, "They may leave you, but I will never leave or forsake you." I was comforted. Thank you, Lord, for being that ever-ready fountain of comfort and security. Please be with and bless my friends.
   And "Goodbye Springtime!" Summer is upon us! Maybe I'll make some new friends and strengthen the ones I have.

Getting the Right Ticket This Time

2011-05-14T08:54:00.000-07:00

Los Angeles Trade Tech

   I've been a blogger dropout lately. I've been posting pictures on my newer Happy Snaps! blog and chronicled the GREAT GARAGE CLEANING FEAT on The Domain of Delightful Domesticity. On my other blog Childbirth Cheerleader I detail new developments regarding possible schooling and career pursuits. But those posts fits with those blogs, and tangentially to this one. With this blog I share perspectives on things I experience, but rarely specifics about plans. I like this blog to focus more on my thoughts and experiences that punctuate my days. So, without further adieu...
   I went back to junior college these last few weeks. I first went to my local one - it had been about 23 years since I had last been a student on this campus - plus several near downtown LA. Crazy! The impacted state of these colleges is unbelievable. It does seem, though, that the classes I might be taking are at some of those large junior colleges near Downtown. I'm not eager to drive down there every week, but it looks like the only option at this point.
   The one college I was at this week was quite exciting actually. It was between USC and Staples Center. Massive construction projects were going on, some big career expo was occurring in the quad area, and I finally found my way to a very impressive, modern looking building that looked newly built. I walk in the huge doors to see students milling around near computer stations. I look at all the signs trying to figure out if I'm even in the right building. I attempt to use the computer to get some help. It doesn't work. I then see a line of students and stand in it. Why not?I arrive at the counter guy, ask a few questions, and then am handed paperwork to fill out. "When you're done with that, get back in line and I'll give you a ticket to speak with an admissions officer." I follow his instructions dutifully. He then hands me the requisite 3 X 3 inch flimsy paper ticket. Within about 8 minutes my number is up, I proceed to the admissions clerk and am given very helpful information, instructions, and yet another ticket to head up to Matriculation to clear my pre-requisites. "Third floor," I'm told.
   I proceed to the third floor and keep walking around wondering which room I need to go to. The building is so new they barely have any signs up. I walked in one door that says "Assessment" and see a huge, intimidating sign that says, "NO STUDENTS BEYOND THIS POINT." OK. Wrong door. I go out to the hallway and enter the next door. I then realize it's the other side of the room I just left. Only I see a couple of students waiting. I whisper to them, "Do you have a ticket?" Some did, some didn't. I'm confused again and wonder what to do. So I wait. Mercifully, a short time. Some incredibly efficient matriculation lady asks about my ticket. I wanted to scream out, "Yes! I've got the golden ticket!" (I maintained my composure; I really am maturing.) She asks what I need, what paperwork I have, and then types in my vital stats into her computer and officially clears me to register for my much-needed chemistry class in several weeks. "It rarely happens this easily," she mutters. "Oh, thank you so much," I effusively respond as I touch her shoulder and ask her what her name is (just in case there are problems, you know, so that I can get back to her since we're on a first-name basis now....) She smiles and I depart towards the elevator with a much more sprightly step.
   I head back to the parking lot and notice, much to my relief, that my meter had not run out yet. Some lady was angling for my parking space. I motion to her which car is mine and, as I open the car door, I smile and whisper with great jubilation, "Thank you, Lord!"
   It had been an exhausting, albeit very providentially productive day. I am hoping and praying for many more such days to come. Whatever God has determined I will embrace as time unfolds.

Speeding To Tie Up Loose Ends

2011-04-04T15:03:00.000-07:00

   Many years ago, newly pregnant, sick, and with two toddlers in the back seat, I drove to town to pick up 8 year-old Camille from art lessons. Only, the parking spaces were blocked off, a crowd of people had gathered, and I was promptly informed by a brusque police officer that I was illegally parked and needed to move immediately.
   "But Officer, my daughter will be coming out into a crowd of strangers looking for me, and she won't find me. There's no place to park and I'm worried about her safety."
   "You should have come earlier. Now move right now, ma'am, or I will write you a ticket."
   "But Officer, what do I do about my daughter about to enter a crowd of strangers all alone? It'll take me quite awhile to find a spot, and I have little ones in the back of the car."
   "You should have gotten here a little earlier. I'm going to write you a ticket right now, ma'am," the officer said with a cruel resolve as he walked away to his patrol car to write me up.
   "But, but-" I stammered in utter shock and concern. I waited there, filled with anger and helplessness, all the while looking for Camille to exit the art studio. Ah! There she was! "Camille! Over here." She got into the car safely and I was relieved. I exited the car and began to talk with the officer's partner, pleading with him for mercy.
   "How fair is it that I get a ticket when these parking spaces are shut down that normally aren't?! I had no idea it was movie night tonight. This isn't fair not to at least help me with this situation. I was willing to move my car, but what about my daughter?" The mean officer's partner had a kind, concerned look in his eyes, but he had to back his partner up. I sensed his reluctance in doing so, however, and for that, I was slightly comforted.
   I took the ticket from the officer and promptly drove home. I wrote a detailed letter outlining my experience with the rude officer, and then drove down to the police station to file my complaint. The sergeant on hand was very understanding and caring. Weeks went by with multiple conversations from the interim police chief, who issued an apology on behalf of the officer who treated the concerned mother caught in an unforeseen circumstance with an unfair $30 parking ticket. I was told that in a department meeting officers were encouraged NOT to treat decent citizens like criminals. I was also informed that the officer got a talking-to about how he handled the situation with me.
   I never got an apology from the officer himself. I never expected it. For years, I had been bitter about the experience. God was aware of this, of course, and had purposed to take care of this unfinished business, these "loose ends" weighing down my soul.
   Six years later, this last week, while looking at my new April calendar at my kitchen table one morning, I realized that I had an ENT appointment for Julia in 10 minutes. It was at least a 20 minute drive to the doctor's office. So, I rushed down my nearby hilly street, forgetting that I had been so mindful of watching my speeds and trying to drive more safely recently. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an officer in his patrol car watch me whiz by. I immediately slowed down and watched behind me. Was he going to follow me? Several minutes later, yes, he was.
   He pulls me over and lo and behold,  it's the officer I had the run-in with six years earlier.
   "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
   Yes, I replied. I told him I was late for a doctor's appointment. He would have been blind not to have seen my toddler in the car. As I fumbled for my registration and insurance I mentioned that I had remembered him from several years ago. "You were really rude to me. Some people you just don't forget...." I knew I was going to get this ticket.(I have never tried to get out of traffic tickets. But, on too many occasions, I have not received ones that I deserved.) He took my paperwork and walked off, having informed me that he was going to prepare my ticket.
   Of course you are, I thought bitterly. And then I started crying. This ticket will be almost $500 with traffic school and court fees. And I really have been watching my speeds lately! Of all days to be running late and forget about my resolve to slow down, obey the law, drive safely....And from him of all people! And the memories of feeling helpless and worried about my daughter and this officer's harsh, calloused treatment of me came flooding back as my tears flowed. Some memories, with their accompanying feelings, seemed seared and branded in time, unchanged by the calendar. I prayed earnestly that God would help me to do the right thing, whatever that was.
   And then he arrived at my car window with the ticket to sign. I looked at it and then looked at him.  "I want to say something to you first...." And then I began to describe what had happened 6 years ago, how he had treated me, and what steps I took to address the situation. It was evident to me that this man was enduring my speech, hardened and unconcerned. He hadn't remembered the incident. "But," I finally got to this point, "I'm a Christian and I forgive you. I wish you well and I'm sure that you're a different officer now." I avoided snide, sarcastic comments and spoke from my heart. I did wish him well. I still do.
   As I was driving away, I continued to cry. I so wanted to remind God that I had been trying to drive the speed limit and that this ticket seemed so unfair. I resolved, however, that I was going to thank God for this situation. Somehow in all of this God was at work for my betterment and his glory. "Thank you, God," I said passionately and sincerely. "I trust you." Moments later, I felt his Spirit impressing upon me that the time had come to acknowledge this bitterness, this ugly cancer in my soil, that had been festering for years over this issue. This ticket forced me to confront this man face to face and forgive him. My assignment from God, if I choose to accept it, is to pray for this man as an evidence of forgiving him, despite his lack of remorse or acknowledgement.
   I choose to accept it.
   And ironically, my doctor got called out on an emergency 10 minutes before I arrived at his office. The appointment had been cancelled. Had I entirely forgotten about the appointment till much later it wouldn't have mattered. Except to God, who obviously had a different plan for me that day.
   Thank you, Lord Jesus.

It's Been Awhile...

2011-03-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

   I don't even know where I'm going with this post. I have been overwhelmed with helping Leanne and her friend, "C" work on their History Day LA poster with "C"'s mom for the last few weeks. S*t*r*e*s*s*f*u*l. The big day was last Saturday, March 12th. I'm relieved and happy to be done with it.It was a helpful learning experience for Leanne. She was disappointed she didn't make the team to represent Los Angeles County in San Jose in May. "Oh well. You win some, you lose some," I told her. She got over it pretty quickly.
   I haven't been very inspired to write about much on this little blog of mine. Spring weather has been marvelous lately. I've been planting some flowers and bulbs recently. We'll see what comes up. I'm hopeful. Spring Break is coming up in mid-April for us. I'm planning some day trips here and there. Really, though, life is rather "ho-hum."
   And then temptation begins to sneak in like one of my kids scurrying out of my room while trying to hide their chocolate-smeared face after they found and pillaged my "hidden" chocolate stash. (Why oh why can't I find a kid-proof chocolate-hiding place?!) They think they're getting away with it but chocolate drool is brown on their white faces! "Gotcha' ya!" Most of the time, though, I find the wrappers left on the floor or in the drawer or beside the couch.
   Sigh...
   But I digress. The temptation that I face these days is d#i#s#c#o#n#t#e#n#t#m#e#n#t. I begin researching my next career and how to get there from here after my kids are in school. Let's see....what strikes my fancy? And then I think more clearly about how much I really want to home school my younger children and see Elena and Camille through graduation from our church homeschooling academy. I think about the engaging and enriching curriculum I want to do with Leanne. I wrestle about which year I'll bring her home from school. Sixth grade? Eighth grade? Next month? No kidding. She has told me about name-calling girls at school and girls who are apparently stealing, too. I will be bringing it up to her teacher early this week. Oh, the drama.
   And the restlessness in my soul. I really must discipline my thoughts to focus on "today" and be faithful to what I need to do in this moment. My mind wanders toward the past and ponders the future. I'm missing out on today. I know this is true. So, I must be present with my kids, doing my housework, making dinner, in conversations with my older girls or Tim.
   More than anything, though, what I think is key is to remember to keep looking to Jesus. To be honest with him. To realize I probably have the Springtime Blues. It's such beautiful weather and everything is in bloom. I should be happy. Why am I not deliriously happy? Why don't my moods match the beauty I see around me? Or something like that.
   My plan for tomorrow is to ask God first thing in the morning: "What's my assignment for today? Who and what do I need to focus on? What tasks do I need to accomplish? Which child or friend needs extra encouragement and care today? What words and gestures should I share to encourage and build up someone else today?" Nothing like looking outside myself to be reminded about what's really important.
   And it's really not about me at all. What a relief!

A Curious Mystery

2011-02-24T22:16:00.000-08:00

   So, here's a puzzling fact I've discovered. Since realizing a couple of months back that I could check my "stats" with Google Blogger, I've been very intrigued to observe a couple of trends. I've discovered that, as of yet, there are three posts on my main blog, the one you are reading now, that are the most viewed. After clicking a button, I stopped tracking times when I would re-read a post. So, the current numbers reflect other people who have read those posts. I'm entirely aware that some of those page views might have occurred accidentally and that people who clicked on the post might not have actually read it. Still, the numbers are interesting. When I looked at the traffic sources I see mostly facebook and google leads. Not very revealing. To date, my three most popular blog posts are http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2010/07/responsibility-and-restitution-part-2.html, http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2010/06/formula-bag-for-success.html, and coming in at #3 http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-morgue.html.
   The number one spot in this blog is my embarrassing description of my temper tantrum in Sears over the summer and my attempt at making restitution. That post still affects me in that I try to make my "sorry" mean something by making restitution when I've wronged somebody. I'm still working on that. The second most popular post about Tim's choice of "briefcases" (a diaper bag!) was apparently quite intriguing to at least 58 people. And then, most recently, my description of the dead-looking nativity scene in my front yard seemed to be quite popular, too.
   I usually place on my Facebook page a link to my latest post knowing that that will generate a few hits. Really, though, I write this blog for myself. It's therapeutic and entertaining for me. The fact that anyone could read it motivates, inspires, and challenges me to think carefully how I present any information, stories, or feelings. I am honest and truthful in all my blog posts, but also quite careful to protect people's identities, steer clear of divisive political or social commentaries, and put forth a post that might inspire and inform, or at least amuse in some way. When people tell me that they find a particular post funny, I'm always curious as to what exactly made them laugh."What is funny to you?" I might ask. Overall, if I've even brought a smile to someone's face then I feel that all my writing efforts have been worthwhile.
   The most curious stat I've come across so far, however, has been on my least publicized and worked on blog http://childbirthcheerleader.blogspot.com/. Astonishingly, between http://thedomainofdelightfuldomesticity.blogspot.com/, Childbirth Cheerleader, and this blog, the most viewed post of all time remains http://childbirthcheerleader.blogspot.com/2010/09/writing-activity-to-help-with-closure.html. I have not advertised this post and barely do much on this particular blog.
   The post itself was helpful to write. I wrote it awhile back and really wrestled with how to make it express what I had desired could've happened around Julia's due date. I worked with quite an emotional ardor to bring forth a vision of what I truly desired for my last baby's birth. This was the therapeutic part. I then left it in my editing area to clean up. I didn't publish it till weeks later. It is much longer than most of my posts and really and truly meant for me. I liked some of the elements in it so I decided to publish it.
   This is the mystery: why is it my most viewed post of all three of my blogs?! I find it rather curious. Who would really be that interested in a lengthy, rather personal post about what I wished had happened with my last delivery? Kind of strange. I'm thinking that perhaps my story- writing abilities, fiction writing, might be a better avenue for me to go! "This is what I imagine my life was like...." That would be far too unhelpful for me, though. I am a realist to the end.
   For those of you who read my blog, but might not know many details about Julia's birth, you would never be able to figure out where I had her or who my doctor or the nurses were. I've strived to keep all those details out of the public eye in every possible way.  I'm not quite sure why, except that I don't feel that making people's mistakes public with their names attached to them is fair or kind. It's not who I am or what I want to do. What if I messed up in a professional way? I wouldn't want that knowledge made public for anyone to see. (Unless I choose to write a blog post about it -and I have!) I have never gone to a doctor's rating site to give an honest evaluation of any of my doctors, except the Birth Surveyhttp://www.thebirthsurvey.com/ This particular sight I absolutely and completely recommend that every woman who's given birth in the past 3 years go to. It's well-done and informative. I feel that it is appropriate to inform women about birth providers in the right setting. I did put a review of the hospital in a rating review website some time ago, but left names of individuals out of the post. Again, not the right place. However, I wanted to inform people about that particular hospital. But I'm getting into an area that I reserve for my Childbirth Cheerleader blog.
   I don't think I'll get an answer as to who is viewing that particular, rather obscure post. I suspect that when people type in certain search words that are in that title, my post accidentally comes up. If the post helps anyone, other than me, then I'm glad for them. This new world of blogging is fascinating, mysterious, and international. I have people from Russia, China, and even Slovenia (where is Slovenia?) clicking on my posts. Imagine that!

I Get It

2011-02-14T21:44:00.000-08:00

   Long wait in the ER.
   Suspected broken ankle.
   Finally put in a room. Only to wait some more...
   And some more....
   Overheard in the next room over:
   "Do you know what time the surgery will be scheduled tomorrow?"
   "No, I don't. Probably in the early afternoon."
   "We have a huge birthday party planned for him."
   "I would cancel it. He really needs this surgery."
   More muffled talking and then sobs and whimpering cries from a young boy.
   "I'm sorry. I can't make your social plans for you. I have patients to see. You know, I have patients..."
   Yeah, my daughter!
   "He's really afraid of having blood drawn."
   I look back at my 13 year-old daughter lying on the tiny little exam table in the teeny closet they put us in. Waiting...more waiting...
   And then, out in the small hallway at the work station that connected three exam rooms together,
   "Ma'am-you need to get off this phone. I need to process patients and do charting. This is my work area."
   I glance out into the hallway and see the telephone caller start yelling at the nurse. "I am calling his father! I need his help in getting his blood drawn. My cell phone isn't working!"
   "I need to work here!"
   "I AM CALLING HIS FATHER! The other nurse said I could use this phone!" By now the lady is screaming at the impatient, indignant nurse. It's getting really, really ugly.
   "You can't talk to me that way!" the nurse says.
   "I can talk to you any way I want, +#$%@!"
   "I'm calling security!"
   "Go ahead! I don't care, you &%*$)+_!"
   All the while I'm just staring at the lady, wondering if she'll notice me peeking out of the exam room and watching her cuss out the nurse. I thought that if she saw me I might be able to calm her down a bit by distracting her if nothing else.
   Stressed out mother. Overworked nurse.
   Been her. Know her.
   You see, I get it. I get being angry and out of control. I get being totally inappropriate in dealing with anxiety, impatience, fear, selfish ambition, pride, stress, exhaustion, foolishness, etc. You name it. It's an awful reality, but it feels so right and justified at the time. I'm also aware of how ineffective people are in trying to calm down angry people.
   A gentle answer turns away wrath...The Bible says this and it's true. There are other techniques I've learned that really, really help.
   The scene got more and more charged as the nurse came back. Three security guards came and the lady and the nurse and got in each other's faces. It got close to physical violence. Dr. ER came over to calm the lady down, as well as the security guards. All the while I was staring at the whole thing transpire. I don't think anyone noticed. I didn't really care. I was tired, weary, and so wanted to get my daughter cared for so I could go home. After things settled down a bit I heard the little boy still whimpering and crying in his room with several ladies, including his vexed mother. I stepped in to that exam room to have a word with her.
   "Um, excuse me. Hi there. I was wondering if you wanted to take this dollar and make a call using the pay phone in the vending machine room in the waiting area. Maybe if you called from there you could let the nurse have her work station back so my daughter could be seen a little sooner." I was as sweet and gentle as I could muster up as I held out my tightly folded up dollar. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "I don't need that money."
   "OK." And I went back to my teeny closet with the all-white sterile walls and teeny exam table that my daughter was half laying on. And I continued to pray and ask God for help, patience, whatever...
   About 20 minutes later the lady and her friends were about to leave with her son. She peeked her in head in my room and said, "Thank you." She was very sincere and seemed grateful. My gesture of the dollar for the pay phone seemed to mean a lot to her. She hardly seemed like the lady who was ranting at the nurse just half an hour ago or so. I was actually surprised at her demeanor.
   Not long after, Camille was seen, diagnosed with a fracture, bandaged up and we were sent on our way. Thank you God! As we were leaving down the hallway we walked past the lady and her friends. She looked at me as I was passing by and said again, with such gratitude, "Thank you."
   "No problem," I said as I walked by and smiled.
   I get it. I really do get it.

Why Can't There Be 25 Hours in a Day?

2011-02-02T12:58:00.000-08:00

Note: this is a rambling post of disjointed ideas. Bear with me if you dare....

cute, creative, FREE seed pots

This style of house is appealing to me. Go figure!
I grew up in a Craftsman style house.

Since Julia was born I mysteriously lost all interest in television watching and movie viewing. A couple of movies look interesting, but I won't commit the 1 1/2+ hours to watching the entire thing. I can't explain why this is so. On the upside, I've developed a voracious interests in all sorts of unrelated random subjects. For example, I'm interested in learning about residential architecture (particularly Mid-Century Modern homes), jewelry making, vegetable and flower gardening using free supplies (think eggshells and 2 liter bottle mini greenhouses), baking bread with freshly ground wheat, homeopathic personal care items (if I smell funny, please tell me!), the facts regarding lawsuits and obstetricians (I've already obtained some articles about this topic), investing and financial planning, including money-saving tips on EVERYTHING, and how the internet works (I still can't wrap my brain around it).

John Piper - this guy rocks!

But that's not all. I have some theology-related interests as well. After hearing a man from my church tell me he's heard all 120+ sermons of John Piper's on the book of Romans, I got jealous. I want to hear all those sermons! Come to think of it, studying the entire book of Romans over a two year period is my aim. I want to really know that book because it is so foundational to my faith.

My children's bedroom will never look like this,
but I can always dream...

I also have a curiosity about meteorology and want to peruse some books about that. I'm also interested in some home decorating ideas, particularly for children's bedrooms. I've decided that wallpaper borders do not go in children's rooms. They always seem to "peel off" right near the girls beds. Hmmm....coincidence? I'm thinking of making quilted wall hangings (think "earthquake safe") with the girls' baby pictures ironed on them (using fabric iron-on transfers, of course). I'm also keeping my eye out for playful and easy-to-do stencils for their walls, too.

Dr Biter - several lawsuits filed against him,
though he is extremely popular with patients
(although not with all, apparently)

I've got a condensed version of Middle East politics - their history and the current situation. I really don't know what's going on in the Middle East - except that we're at war, it's bad, and I'm sad about all the horrible reports I'm hearing. I really need to have a better grasp of the facts regarding that volatile part of the world.

The President has a daunting task
regarding Middle East negotiations

Anyway, I hope I haven't exhausted you with all my curiosities and information ambitions. I'd like to do a follow up post over the year on what areas of info I have tackled and what projects I've completed. Most of my house and garden projects will be posted on my other blog The Domain of Delightful Domesticity.I have so many projects, and am so disorganized in my approach that I'm trying to figure out a time everyday or at least every week where I can tackle just one book or project. I also want to figure out how I can involve my children in many of my projects.

I really don't miss TV or movies at all.

Making Peace With the Early Morning Hours

2011-01-21T21:32:00.000-08:00

Around 6:00 am on Christmas morning in my backyard

   I have a love-hate relationship with the early morning hours of the day. When I was a lazy, self-indulgent teenager, I loved sleeping in till like, noon. I shudder at the thought now. I remember warm summer mornings where I was unpleasantly awoken by those *&^%$green parrots that escaped from the pet store fire like 30 years ago. They have managed to successfully reproduce and love chomping bites out of my persimmons. They find me wherever I go! Of course, all of you in the Los Angeles area know about these obnoxiously LOUD parrots. You've heard them, too, huh?
   Then there were the years when Tim and I were married without children yet. We'd groggily open one eye on a late Saturday morning and say to one another, "Enjoy these weekends of sleeping in, smoochkins (yes, that was the corny name we had for one another back then). After the kiddos come we'll be up early enough."
   If only I had known the half of it! Elena, Camille, and Leanne slept till sane- people hours soon enough in their infancy, but Chloe was a whole different story. She always has been! That bright-eyed, dimpled, springy-curled child broke me into accepting 5 am wake- ups as par for the course. It was either that, or pull my hair out in desperation. Actually, she was preparing me for the last days of my pregnancy with Daisy.
   I had gotten HUGE during my pregnancy with Daisy. Wouldn't you know it, she didn't want to come out when she was "supposed to." Days past her due date, I would fall into bed exhausted, but hopeful (will this be the night I go into labor? Oh, please God! Let it be so!), and awaken around 3 am or so with intermittent, mild contractions. I would lay in bed for at least an hour, counting the contractions and the minutes, sleepy, but wondering if this was "it." Well, I thought to myself, if I am in labor and I get up, the contractions will keep on going. So, I'd get up, go to the kitchen for a snack, and sit at the table reading my Bible. Too many mornings, the sun would rise over the field behind my house, and I would sit there with a calm, relaxed uterus - all contractions had ceased completely. The sun, bright orange and glowing like fire some mornings, seemed to be saying, "Not this morning, dear. Perhaps soon...." Those mornings, mixed with discouragement and exhaustion, were accentuated by a glorious sunrise. It was the one redemptive aspect of those 10 days I waited till I finally went to the hospital and evicted that 9 1/2+ pound child. Amniohooks have their place in modern day labor (although I think they are way overused for the most part).
   Anyway, fast forward to my current schedule. With six kids, ages 2 to 15, in various places throughout the day, and multiple demands on my time, energy, and organizational skills, I absolutely have to start the day out with prayer and Bible reading. It makes such a difference in my day. The problem is I can't seem to get up early enough. I frequently find Daisy and Julia have arrived in my bed throughout the night and half the time I didn't even know it! If I can get out of bed by 5:45 a.m. and am very quiet, so as not to wake them, then I can help get Tim's food ready for his long days and then sneak into my office for some reading time, journaling, and prayer. Sometimes, they wake up, though, and I'm holding Julia on my lap who wants to cuddle as I read, but she really needs a diaper change. Or, she's hungry, and because Chloe is still usually an early riser (thank God now!), I'll send Julia to Chloe who gets her some cereal. I then have a couple more minutes to jot down some prayers I like to write out.
   The part of my morning I treasure the most, however, is observing the sunrise over my backyard field. I simply am in awe most mornings. I pause and look out the window in my office. Frequently, I say, "Oh, thank you Lord. Good morning to you, too. You are simply awesome!" The heavens declare the glory of God....Indeed they do. They also reveal a loving Father who rewards those who diligently seek him. He whispers to me in those sunrises, "Today's another day to experience my presence and joy in your life. I love that you love my expressions of kindness toward you. I will be with you today in all things."
   Oh how I need that reminder!

The view out of the back room next to my office at 6:30 am or so

Conversations with "Cookie Cal" - My Friendly Neighbor

2011-01-19T08:17:00.000-08:00

   Late last week my neighbor appeared at my door with two wooden, red-handled children's brooms. This neighbor, I'll call him "Cookie Cal" (to protect the innocent), is in his late 60's and is an upstanding member of our community. He was Citizen of the Year back in the 90's, is our neighborhood block captain, and has recently retired from a very successful business. His first two wives have passed away, and his third wife is a lovely, svelte, jewel of a woman who, in addition to her front yard gardening projects, really enjoys the new Mercedes he bought her for her birthday awhile back. "You know, I'm a millionaire..." he has told me on several occasions. Okey-dokey.
   He's also a leftover hippie from the 60's, with a long, sometimes braided white beard and a propensity for "amusing" off-color jokes and expletives thrown into the conversation every so often. He had knee replacement surgery awhile back and so I hadn't seen him walking barefoot, shirtless (and sunburned - no surprise there!) down our street like I had in the recent past. I also hadn't caught him sneaking through the field behind our houses to get a hot dog in town with a buddy without his health-conscious wife knowing. So, when I saw him at my door I was a bit surprised; "I've been cleaning out my garage and found these things your kids might like." I have a good rapport with him, despite some of our dialogue from our recent conversations. (These are direct quotes, too!)

Cookie Cal (CC) standing at the door holding the brooms while several of my kids, plus some neighbor friends, ran out the door eating cookies. His thick, hairy dog Zach seized the opportunity to wander into my living room: Isn't there a law against having all these kids?
Me: I don't think so.
CC: Observing the children eating their cookies in the front yard and holding up two fingers I want two cookies.
Me: Oh sure. One for you and your wife?
CC: No. For me.
Me: Okay. I'll be back. I go to my kitchen, put three cookies in a baggy and bring them back to him.
Me: Your wife is too slender to eat these cookies.
CC: That's right. I told her that if she gets fat, that's it. He puts his hand up in a horizontal position near his face and slices the air.
Me: You're a pig.
CC: Laughing, And a male chauvinist, too!
ME: I groan and we talk about the brooms, the recently deceased neighbor and his property, the city mayor, the retreat center behind our houses, etc. At a break in the conversation he makes this comment as he's hearing the kids run around on the front lawn screaming, laughing, and playing:
CC: I don't know how you don't do drugs or drink a lot with all these kids.
ME: Oh, Jesus helps me out. He gives me everything I need.
CC: nervous laughter He doesn't like kids!
ME: Oh yes he does!
KK: more nervous laughter Yeah, you're right. And then he launches into a joke about a guy in a bar, 2 $20 bills, embarrassing bodily functions, and an angry wife. This is the second time I've heard the joke. It really is funny minus the potty humor and content. At this point in the conversation Julia comes to the door crying because CC's dog grabbed her cookie from her hand. He was now chomping on it as he sauntered through the doorway outside. She's crying and I try to calm her down. (No wonder that dog is so fat!) Cookie Cal comments on the red wagon that appeared in our yard ("I brought that down earlier"), bids me farewell, I thank him for the brooms, and he's off.

The Following Day
I answer the door bell and there stands Cookie Cal with a pile of spaghetti strap t-shirts in his hand.
Me: Back for more cookies?
Cookie Cal nods and smiles as I wave him inside to have a seat. He proceeds to explain the valuable vintage t-shirts (I'll need a lot of cookies for these!) and several tie-dye t-shirts he brought over for our girls.
CC: Here's a tie dye one - I really hope you have at least one hippie. Someone's got to save this family... he grumbles. Tim had just awoken from a nap and greets Cookie Cal as he enters the living room to sit down. Daisy walks in to say hello to Tim and Cookie Cal.
Me: Oh, look! It's Daisy! Our flower child! We do have a hippie child in our family. I guess there's hope for us after all!
CC chuckless and proceeds to tell us about the lavish, expensive diamond stud earrings he bought his wife for Christmas last year. She didn't want them, though, and told him to return them.
Me: Oh, no! Tell her you'll give it the neighbor lady down the street instead! (The poor one with all those kids! I should've added).
Cookie Cal smiles at this as we talk about how expensive Mercedes are to maintain and general neighborhood stuff. I then make sure that he has a whole bag of cookies in his hand as he leaves.
   He came back again two days later to drop off a large roll of white paper for the kids to trace themselves with. He commented, They could draw full body outlines of themselves. I had to irreverently add, Yeah, like crime scene pictures - all sprawled out!
   Uh-oh. I think my neighbor's bawdy, off-color humor is wearing off on me. I better stop making cookies so he'll stay away. Somehow I just don't think that will do the trick. I've given him apple pies and apple dumplings from the apples I pick from his tree that he so generously offers each Fall. He's also let me know how much he enjoys my Christmas treats each year. What to do? I'll just keep being friendly and maybe he'll be done cleaning out his garage soon. Although we really are enjoying his red wagon and the brooms....

Top Twelve Highlights of 2010: Part 2 - the Next Six

2010-12-31T00:09:00.000-08:00

Here I am - on the verge of 2011 looking back at the highlights from this past year. Here they are:
7) My Dad's miraculous return and recovery from death. No joke here. (See my post http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2010/03/big-pour-concrete-and-blood.html). I remember holding his hand in the ICU in mid-March. He was getting paler and colder. His eyes were blinking nervously as the nurses were rushing around trying to force more blood into him as quickly as they could. My sister, an ICU nurse for 17 years, was offering to help them because she could see that they were not handling his blood loss as efficiently as they shoud have been. As I held my Dad's hand, I thought, I don't want the last face for him to see before he dies to be a sad, anxious, grieving face. So I smiled at him as sweetly and bravely as I could. It was hard and it felt weird. I was trying to stay strong for my Dad. We were whisked out of the ICU rather quickly after my sister offered to help the nurses. About a 1/2 hour later we were told he was in surgery. Several hours after that he came through. He wasn't supposed to. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. God answers prayer! A week or so later, he brought the meat to our Easter dinner we held at my house. He was pale and weak, but he was there and he was alive!

My Dad and my father-in-law, Don, talking at our house on Easter

My brother flew out to see my Dad immediately. He stayed with us and we talked quite a bit. This, too,was a miracle. After 7 years of an estrangement of sorts from him, he dropped back into our lives eager to see our Dad, reconnect with us, take a great interest in my girls, and come back into our family's fold again. I never could've antcipiated how wonderful that was. We didn't talk about past issues. No need to. We just talked and laughed. It was incredible. God performed miracles of many different kinds this past March. Simply amazing.

8)Tim switched schools in September rather suddenly. They couldn't offer him the extra jobs he needed at the school he had been at for over 20 years. So in a matter of days, he was at a new school. They have been able to offer him the high paying extra jobs our large family needs. Thank you, God and way to go, Tim!

9) I've lost 32.2 lbs. (I just had to get the .2 of a pound in. Digital scales are so affirming!) since September. The program I used Lord's Table - Setting Captives Free was far more than just a weight loss program. It was so beneficial that I renamed it "How to Love Jesus With Your Whole Heart Everyday and Lose Weight, Too!" diet plan. It has been an answer to prayer and has brought much hope and peace to me as well as smaller clothes to my closet! I'd like to lose more weight in 2011. We'll see.
10)Reading Chuck Swindoll's Great Lives Series of books about bible characters. My favorite biographies were David and Moses. I also read about the lives of Job, Esther, Elijah, Paul, Jesus, and Joseph. I acquired so much insight and illumination into the character of God through reading about these people. God worked in awesome, incredible, bizarre, and unbelievable ways in their lives. I honeslty felt that those biblical biographies were more exciting than any Hollywood movie I had ever seen. I highly recommend them.

11)Emotional healing through caring prayer. A dear friend of mine prayed for me in early September this year regarding the trauma I had still struggled with from Julia's birth. Her prayer was passionate, powerful, and incredibly answered. Within a few weeks of her prayer, I began to realize that the painful hold of Julia's traumatic birth had lost a lot of its emotion. The post-traumatic stress disorder that I had been emotionally strangled by for over 2 years had dramatically lifted. I was so relieved and grateful! (There are still some painful issues that remain, but I'm confident that in time those, too, will abate.) I also found this helpful and healing website for women who've had traumatic birth experiences.http://www.solaceformothers.org/ . I highly recommend it for any woman who might need to process difficult details about her birth experience(s). Very supportive, helpful, and encouraging.

12)Growth and maturity in my daughters. All of my daughters have gotten bigger, smarter, cuter,etc. this past year, but my oldest two have really changed quite a bit. I won't divulge details because they are both so private ("If you put my picture on your blog you need to pay me a dollar!" and "Oh, Mom, what you wrote about me was so embarrassing!" Huh? How did it embarrass you? "I don't know! It just did! OK...OK...).Suffice it to say, the maturity, critical thinking skills, discernment, and awareness of the larger world around them has been so encouraging and hopeful to me. Maybe I haven't screwed them up after all! (I don't really think I've "screwed" them up, but we have our days where I really wonder...!)
I could've written more highlights, but I realized that twelve averages out to one per month. So, I'll end here. Have a happy new year!

Top Twelve Highlights of 2010: Part 1 - the First Six

2010-12-28T23:57:00.000-08:00

I couldn't limit it to just 10, okay?! I know the "Top Twelve Highlights of 2010" does NOT sound very hip, but have I ever tried to be hip? Uh-huh, yep, those who know me are choking, laughing and gagging at the thought. I really try to keep it real, folks. The thought briefly skated through my mind to do "The Top (How Many Ever) Lowlights of 2010," but that list would be way too long, boring, silly, self-centered, not a good example to my children or a good Christian witness, and just plain whiny. So, even though I try to "keep it real," I also aspire to focus on those things that are "praiseworthy, pure," God-honoring, and positive. Because I wanted to put links and pictures in my list, I wanted to break my list up into two parts. I do try to keep my posts on the briefer side. You're all busy people and so am I. Here are my first six, but by no means the bottom six. There's no ranking of which items had the most significant impact, just that they all affected me in a powerfully positive, life-affirming, and/or extremely helpful and practical way.

1) I bought an I-Pod Touch in April with creative credit card reward financing and a coupon. Even though my first IPod broke down after just a month + of usage, I did get it replaced with another new one. I love this thing! It helps me keep track of my daily activities and commitments, shopping lists for different stores, monthly and daily tracking of certain activities and events, has a version of the ESV bible on it, allows me to take quick and easy-to-store sermon notes on it, functions as an alarm clock and a timer, and lets me listen to music and podcasts. I also play Pac-Man every now and then when I'm really bored and out somewhere. It really helps me in so many ways. I would be lost without it now.

2) Having my sisters move closer to where I live. I see my younger sister,Sarah, and her husband and two kids much more often now. We have dinner together regularly, go places together, go to movies and coffee, and just hang out together. Really, really cool. And then my older sister lives close to my favorite 7-11. I regularly see her boyfriend David getting a refill with his Big Gulp while I'm getting mine! She and David also see my kids more and I'll drop off goodies every now and then and chat about all sorts of stuff with them. They are great people. I love them dearly and am glad they're so much closer.

My sister Sarah and my girls paddling around Ventura Harbor this summer

3)Re-doing our backyard. This was a big project in the early Spring. It turned out very well. I now have several vegetable garden areas and a hummingbird and butterfly habitat I really enjoy gardening. It's a lot of work, but I'm energized and fulfilled by it. We've also been able to host more large family gatherings because our backyard accommodates so many people. The view from our backyard is simply breathtaking, too, especially in the winter.

Before

After

4)Starting my new blog The Domain of Delightful Domesticity in the spring. It's fun! It's validating to me to look back over my posts and see the fruits-literally- of my labors. I also know that I can tell my girls in the future that on my blog they'll find recipes, "how-to's," and recollections of all sorts of things we did as a family. It allows me to track projects I complete and feel that life is not just an endless series of dishes. laundry, toy pick up, etc.

5) I purchased two Hillsong CD's this year. These two CD's have some of the best worship songs I've ever heard on them. The encouragement and hope I've felt while listening to them is hard to communicate in words. I bought tickets to the Hillsong concert in March 2011 at the Staples Center (I'll have to bring my Lunchable!). Elena, Camille, and I are going as a late birthday present for me. So.Excited.About.That.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGAHgwMtrWM&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8wY6BPFoWU&feature=related

6)The Mother/Daughter Retreat at church went well. I signed up for this duty in September of 2009 not realizing what I had gotten myself into. It was a challenging task, I almost backed out, and learned A WHOLE LOT through this process. The amazing thing is that the retreat went fairly well, people had postive things to say about it, and I felt satisfied about it overall. I had some very helpful women take on certain tasks. I enjoyed putting together the goodie bags the most. God was faithful in helping me keep my commitment. It was a lot of work, however, and really took a toll. Yes....I learned a lot from that experience. And unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to take any pictures from it.
Those are six of my Top Twelve Highlights from 2010. Stay tuned for the next six, hopefully before the year 2011 starts.

The Mean Mannequin

2010-12-18T00:26:00.000-08:00

   We were traipsing through Macy's today, Daisy and Julia and I, after a failed shopping trip for pants for Julia. That little tike just doesn't have enough pants and I'm having a hard time finding some that don't look exactly like her sister's (way too hard to get them in the right drawer - even when they have totally different pants!) I was near Macy's so I thought, "I'll give it a shot." No deal - literally. So, I made my way to the elevator with Daisy and Julia following close behind, or so I thought. I glance back to see Julia, about 10 feet behind me, staring intently at something I couldn't see. I could see that she was taken with this mysterious object and was reaching her hand out like she was daring herself to touch it. I pause and watched her, wondering what it was she was looking at. I see her staring with greater intensity, willing herself to reach out and touch "it."
   And then she did.
   "Agh!!!" she screamed and jumped back. By this time I walked the couple of steps to reassure her and see what it was she was staring so intently at. This is who I saw.

A mean mannequin! (And a mannequin child with no undershirt and massive cleavage! Who dresses these child mannequins? Perverts on parole?!) "Oh, Julia, " I said gently, "did you get shocked touching that mannequin?" She nodded a fearful, "yeah." Being the sensitive mother that I am, always trying to validate my child's emotional wounds, I laughed out loud. The three of us then took a closer look. I tried to encourage Julia to go over and touch it again and see that it wasn't a real person. She wouldn't. Daisy, however, always eager to make friends, was ready to pose.

Julia just stood back and stared. I don't blame her.

In fact, as we left, I should've given all the mean mannequins the evil eye. And put a Twinkie in their hands. They all look they need one - or two.

The Christmas Morgue

2010-12-01T20:05:00.000-08:00

   I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this post, so hold on to your seats. I had to remind myself that this is Christmastime, not Easter. The Easter story does have a brief morgue-like aspect to it when Jesus lay in his tomb for three days. We know how that story ends - hallelujah! The greatest and most significant miracle to ever occur in all of time happened when Jesus rose from the dead, conquered sin and death, and defeated Satan. Easter is a holiday we should celebrate everyday because EVERYDAY the implications of Christ's resurrection should impact our lives with the joy, peace, and strength we possess to please God and live profoundly satisfying and hopeful lives.
   But, back to my hopefully-not-too morbid post. So, it started like this: a restful Thanksgiving weekend prompted Tim to get all the Christmas decorations out and decorate everything, everywhere, hallelujah and amen. "Christmas is on!" Tim really fancies Christmas decorations which I think is just too cute. He got up at 4 am one post-Christmas morning to go to Stats' After Christmas Sale and came home with a fabulous, huge, colorful wreath that proudly hangs above our fireplace as of November 27th. Last year, when my Dad was doing some downsizing, we inherited his front yard nativity scene of light -up plastic figures. This marvelous set comes with Mary, Joseph, and Jesus (of course!), 8 angels, 3 wise men, a shepherd boy with two sheep, and a cow. On the bottom of each figure is a hole to put a light and sand to weight it down and keep it upright.
   There was only one wee problem. After Tim worked with great, intense Christmas cheer all afternoon long, I came home that evening to see what looked like dead bodies lying in the front yard with some twinkling lights hanging from the house. Huh? I thought. I figured they were the nativity scene characters unlit and laying down on the grass, but it looked creepy. Even Camille mentioned this same observation a couple of days later. Tim apparently got every figurine weighted down with sand, but crookedly, so most of them fell down. And then as he placed all the lights in the figures and turned the switch on POP! SNAP! The whole light feature apparently shorted out and left the Holy Family with their priceless newborn in the dark, lying down for dead.

The grisly scene in my front yard

The one problem with this whole scenario is that Tim has been working really long hours this past month and in December he's working even longer ours. He leaves home around 6:20 am and doesn't come home till around 7 or 8 pm most nights. He will be working Saturday mornings, too. It's not unusual to find him in bed around 8:30 pm snoring loudly from sheer exhaustion. (Have I ever mentioned how grateful I am to have such a hardworking, honorable husband? He is so awesome!) Knowing this, Tim put all the decorations up right after Thanksgiving. I'm not sure when he'll get back to figuring out this light and balance situation. I can try to remedy the weight issue and try to get the Holy Family with their entourage upright. If I can't, I suppose I could drag the whole assemblage down to the basement or pray for a miracle. Maybe this will be like Easter after all; God will miraculously resurrect the Holy Family! And in my front yard of all places!

In the meantime, I better get out there and figure out what I can do. I want a cheery, happy Christmas scene in my front yard - nothing resembling death in anyway. That wouldn't be very neighborly, would it?

Looking for Funny in Dangerous Places

2010-11-14T16:40:00.000-08:00

TWO DAYS AGO

My blog posts have not been funny lately. I miss my funny blog posts. My posts were funnier when my sense of order and peace was shaky. Now that I'm feeling like I have things "under control" I've gone back to being boring. Depression and trauma recovery have their advantages, huh? How sad. But, you know what they say about funny comedians: they are hiding their pain, very well, behind their humor. I really don't want painful circumstances, but I would like to be a little funnier than I have been.

(Sorry, Obama enthusiasts. I couldn't help getting a
political jab in with this picture.
I'm usually a-political, but I couldn't help it.)

   The sad thing is, I can't make myself be funny. It's easy to be boring. Excessively self-introspective. Morbidly serious. Those emotions and written expressions have their place. Sometimes. But I want funny. Laugh out loud hilarious. Gut-busting, tears- streaming- from- my- eyes guffawing. How do I get back to being just a little funnier without being mean, negative, sarcastic, or too self-deprecating? I don't know. I'm going to think about that one. Perhaps I can look around and observe all the ludicrous things I see in my everyday life.

TODAY
   It didn't take long! I took my 4 youngest girls to the park today after dropping books (overdue at that!) at no less than 3 libraries. So, we get to the lovely, sort-of woodsy La Canada park and begin to play. Fresh air. Running around. Lots of cute little kiddos at the park. Lovely community feeling in the air. How idyllic. Whoo-hoo!
   And then we saw it.
   The play structure to the north part of the park had plastic, orange lattice-type stuff tightly encircling it with yellow "CAUTION" tape intertwined around it. Huh? What was wrong with the play structure? We didn't go too close to it, until we were swinging on the tire swing. (That was really fun, by the way!) This is what we saw and then we understood. I began to joke with the girls what a "slide ride!" that would be if some poor, unsuspecting, practically blind kid didn't see the missing bottom to the slide. We laughed and continued the "what-if" banter, remarking that it actually looked like fun to just try it out and see what a thrill ride that would be. I would catch them, of course. Perhaps laughing about and imagining something so dangerous was silly and irresponsible of me. But, life is too short to not laugh at whatever you can. And me and my girls found this funny.

Suffice it to say, we didn't indulge our crazy curiosity and break the rules of plastic caution tape and orange, plastic lattice stuff. (My girls' father, after all, does have a Masters degree in Public Health. He's always been Mr. Safety. Who am I to undo all the safety thinking he's impressed upon them over the years?! Far be it for me to do such an unthinkable thing!)
At any rate, we left the park and went home safely, following most of the traffic rules and arriving home all intact. The whole slide thing has made me a little concerned, though: am I going to have one of those dreams tonight where I'll jolt awake because I'll have that sensation of falling?! I suppose there would be some poetic justice in that....

Grace-filled Surprises

2010-10-30T13:33:00.000-07:00

It feels like forever ago since I last posted on my blog. Hmm....what to write....I've been busy! At the end of the evening, when the house is picked up, homework is finished, the last story is read, details about tomorrow have been discussed, and I finally have my jammies on and teeth brushed and flossed, I squeeze in some reading time.
Ahhh....just a couple of pages.....Right now I'm reading Esther: A Woman of Strength and Dignity by Charles Swindoll. I had done an excellent bible study on the book of Esther about 9 years ago and thought I knew the book fairly well. Charles Swindoll never disappoints, though. He is a theologian and his detailed handling and explanation of this beautiful woman's place in biblical history is, so far, fantastic. I am surprised by how much more I'm getting out of it. I'm only about a 1/4 of the way through it and am enjoying every chapter.

   The other book I'm reading is a child's book about blood. Yes, you read that right. It's a junior health-type book about the human body and blood. It's quite interesting and at my intellectual level!
   There have been quite a few surprises this last month. The weight loss program I am on (Lord's Table - Setting Captives Free) has been phenomenal.As of today, I've lost almost 22 pounds in 8 weeks. It's a internet-based bible study I do daily (or those days when I can get to it). I also have a mentor that I e-mail my bible study answers to and she gives me feedback and prays for me. Really exceptional material and life-changing. How much more weight I lose is up to God. I'm just relieved to take off all the extra weight I gained this last year. I was so uncomfortable I couldn't believe it. I had never been heavier and, by the grace of God, will never be that heavy again. The bible is clear that I am to eat for the glory of God. For too many years I have been eating for "Laura's glory" and the fruit was rotten. But it really is all about his grace and his Spirit. I can't do anything commendable without his Spirit prompting me and helping me every step of the way.
   Another surprise is how much peace I feel about Chloe and Leanne being back at school. All the misgivings I had about sending them to school have not been realized. Just the opposite. I was concerned that I would feel split by having half of my school-age kids home schooled and half of them in public school. Not so. Everyone has their place and it's working quite well. I also was concerned about having to get up early and rushing the girls to school. Not so. It's helpful to get up early and we don't rush to school ordinarily. The mornings are fairly peaceful and organized. This is amazing to me. Another concern I had were the influences the girls would be exposed to at school. The jury is out on this one. So far, so good. We'll see about that one. I was also worried that I'd be overwhelmed and put out by all the school communication, fundraisers, things to sign and paperwork, etc. There are forms to fill out and plenty to put on the calendar, but I'm not feeling overwhelmed by it yet.
   I am overwhelmed, however, by all the trips I make getting Camille to and from all of her different places; art lessons, her writing class, her cooking class, her running program. That aspect is challenging. But having Camille at home with a computer-based curriculum has not been challenging overall. There has been much grace with her for this school year so far. I've enjoy seeing her mature and having her fun-loving, animated personality around.
   Looking back, it was a challenging counseling appointment with our pastor in the spring earlier this year. We were talking about various schooling options for Camille and how to direct her artistic inclinations. I really wanted to home school the girls, no matter how much I had to change my current approach. I had determined which curriculum I was going to teach each one of them and was excited about that. I was also looking forward to the changes I was going to implement and trying new things.

   And then I prayed about it. Uh - oh.

   That's what our pastor asked us to do. Tim really wanted Leanne and Chloe in school and Camille at home again. I wanted them all in school, or all at home. (Elena is so independent and hard-working that I hardly do much to help her out. She takes quite a few academic classes at her co-op that she's a breeze to home school). But I really wanted them home again. So, our pastor simply asked us to pray about it. We prayed together once or twice, and then I prayed on my own.
   And God is faithful. He impressed upon me that I was asking my husband to follow my vision of home schooling our children, but that wasn't Tim's vision. God directed me, in that still small voice, to adapt myself to my husband's vision. If I were to come under my husband's direction, there would be grace and favor in that submission. I was not happy about this change of plans. Tim reluctantly agreed to have Camille go into 8th grade at the middle school, but at the last minute I felt God direct me to ask Tim about that again. Tim still felt uncomfortable about her going into middle school. And so....she stayed home. I was quite depressed at how the year was shaping up.
   But God was right. He's always right. So, now I feel like he's using this small step of obedience to point to something bigger. The principle is this: when I feel like God is directing me to do something I don't want to do, do it! Immediately and without complaining. Because favor and grace and joy will follow. Okay, God, help me to get this lesson down solidly....

Self-Pity vs. Self-Validation

2010-10-11T21:23:00.000-07:00

   So, I heard about this woman who had a really rough couple of years. I mean, really rough, couple of years. Financial devastation, misunderstood, physically afflicted, unfairly blamed, huge losses of relationships and emotional reserves. Bad. Just recently, she felt that God opened her eyes, ever so gently and slowly, to see that some of her suffering was because of self-pity. Ouch. She realized that this was true and repented and got right with God and others in this area of her life. Freedom, joy, and peace flooded her heart for the first time in a long time. Thank you Lord!
   I read about another lady who had an awful experience that profoundly traumatized her. She was really wronged. Really badly. She acknowledged her anger at those who hurt her, let herself think through and ponder her pain and didn't deny that she was angry. She avoided situations that would cause her more heartache and grief over what she had lost. She was wise and thoughtful. And one day she was rewarded. She woke up one morning and her anger was gone. "It no longer served me, " she wrote. Wow! She also acknowledged the pain her body feels, the specific aches and pains and places where her body reveals denied and stuffed anger and sadness. Wow again. I was so impressed and wrote her an e-mail to let her know.
   I mused over these two ladies' reactions to profound hardships and heart ache. One engaged in self-pity and one engaged in self-validation. Both ladies were ultimately set free from being a victim of their circumstances. Not all people get free. My feisty Grandma would tell her bitter tales about her sisters well into her 70's. Oh, Grandma and her bitter stories. So sad.
   But anyway, what is the difference between self-validation and self-pity? I am the queen of self-pity. I am really, really good at it. If there was Self-Pity 101 offered at a nearby university, they'd ask me to teach it. If you googled "self-pity" in images, you'd see a picture with my sad-looking, down cast face. Yes, folks, self-pity is like a sport for me and I win every time.
   But no. I lose. I lose opportunities to trust God and thank him for my trials. I'm getting a teensy weensy bit better at that, but still I whine and complain and moan about injustice (I'm really big on that one). So, when I heard about this woman who was set free from self-pity I became rather curious. If I don't feel sorry for myself, what do I do then with being wronged? Forgive 70 times 7. Okay. What next? That get really tiresome after awhile! I think part of my issue is that I don't want to validate the pain. I don't want to feel those feelings, although I'm quick to complain about them.
     A couple of weeks ago I related a difficult situation I had encountered to a stranger. Big Mistake. She proceeded to evaluate my trial and give her spin on it - after getting the facts all mixed up. It was so disconcerting and upsetting to me. I abruptly cut off communication with this woman, offending her in the process. Several days later, I called her by phone and wanted to "clear the air" and explain my outlook; "I had come to a peace about my situation and was not asking for your feedback. Your questions and comments re-opened wounds and it was quite painful." What I did not say to her, although I hope she can learn this lesson quickly, was that I really needed her to say, "Oh, I'm so sorry for your difficult situation. It sounds like it was very painful." Or something like that - even half of that. I became aware of the need to have my pain noticed. Please just see how much this hurt me and don't analyze it for me. That's my job. I have to own my reactions to the cards Life deals me. Just see my pain and sympathize. Not pity, just "I'm sorry for your pain."
   I ended the conversation as pleasantly and kindly as I could have. I really wanted to affirm and encourage this woman in the work she does. I was no longer offended by the social boundary she crossed because I set a boundary for her that was comfortable for me. But I did want to give her the opportunity to be heard. Nothing that she said to clarify what she had communicated via e-mail changed how insensitive she was. But she realized that she should have been more careful with comments and not to converse by e-mail with a stranger about serious issues. So, valuable lesson learned.
     I took many lessons away from that encounter as well. One thing I am freshly aware of is to see and validate the pain, discomfort, and inconveniences others complain about. I believe that if they feel heard, they will not feel the need to engage in self-pity. Hmm....more to ponder and observe how effective this is.

At any rate, how's your day going?

Better Than A Hallelujah?

2010-09-27T21:26:00.000-07:00

Hallelujah:
-interjection:
   1. Praise ye the Lord!
-noun:
   2. an exclamation of "hallelujah!"
   3. a shout of joy, praise, or gratitude

   So, you might be wondering where I'm going with this. Indulge me for 3 minutes and 38 + seconds, will you?
Click on the link and then come back, okay?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0nMvvoXa9Yk&feature=related

Are you back with me again? Cool. Thanks. That was one of Amy Grant's newest songs. I've heard it on K-FISH a couple of times and it has a great melody. Amy Grant's voice and singing style has always held a lot of appeal for me. She's soulful, sincere, and passionate. However, as I was listening to this song and pondering the lyrics, I felt my theological hackles being raised.

To start with, I love that the song is bringing emotional and often painful moments that people experience into view and encouraging honesty before God. That is absolutely wonderful.It's incredibly freeing and healing to be honest with God with our painful emotions. God will not despise a broken and contrite heart. He hears our cries, draws near to us and loves us. He comforts and counsels us like no else can.

However, in Isaiah we read that we were "created for his glory." We were made to worship God. In the New Testament , in several places, we are commanded to praise God in our difficult circumstances. Rejoice in our hardships, because they are creating maturity in us. Our response to every trial really should be....worship. Praise. That's right, my sad friends, "hallelujah!" Our first cry to God shouldn't be our complaint or our brokenness. It should always be an acknowledgment of his kindness, faithfulness, and sovereignty. That is, if we want to grow in maturity and the character of Christ.

Flash back to fall of 2006 for me. Let's see...we were in escrow buying our rental property that I didn't want to buy, Daisy was a small baby with lactose intolerance issues so I had to remove all dairy products from my diet, Chloe was needing several appointments at Children's Hospital to diagnose and get treatment for her severe speech disability, Leanne was having mysterious bouts of vomiting that came whenever and would require hospital trips, appointments with incompetent or rude GI specialists, and I was home schooling Elena, Camille, and Leanne. Additionally, our church decided to take a break from Care Groups that fall. My main source of genuine, reliable fellowship with folks who would hear my burdens and pray for me was gone right during the zenith of all those trials. To say my plate was full, that I was maxed out, and felt very alone is a gross understatement. I had cried out to God many times and was stretched to the breaking point often.
However, one cataclysmic decision of hard-won, bare-souled, bottom-of the-rope determination stands frozen in time for me. I was sitting in the bathroom trying to get away from all the kids and I remember BY FAITH thanking God for all the trials. Offering up a sacrifice of praise because it was the only thing I hadn't done and had no other options at that point. After all, why don't I just obey Scripture? I remember that powerful moment when God came down and lifted my soul up. Something broke in the heaven-lies. It was a momentous turning point. From that point on, the difficulties were still present, but I felt so much better, freer, and had much more peace. All my honest, painful cries to God, which also reflected self-pity and anger at God because of my circumstances, did not yield the deliverance that heartfelt praise and worship did. In just a few months, all those trials would lift and things would take a dramatic turn for the better. But it began with my acknowledgment of God's goodness even in the midst of crushing, unrelenting discouragement.

So, dear Amy Grant, your lyrics are a bit off. Nothing is better than a hallelujah.

Up and Running

2010-09-18T22:10:00.000-07:00

     The first week of school for all my girls just commenced yesterday. Whew! Here's the rundown of who is where: Elena (10th grade) and Camille (8th grade) are being home schooled, Leanne (4th grade) and Chloe (2nd grade) are at Sierra Madre Elementary, and Daisy (4 years old, pre-K) and Julia (2 years old) are at home with Mom. This is a sampling of the activities that promise to keep me hopping throughout the year: Elena volunteers at a nearby hospital, Camille volunteers at a nearby library, I volunteer in Leanne and Chloe's classrooms 1 hour per week per child, MOPS twice a month with Julia and Daisy, art, piano, singing and cooking lessons for various children, and a running program for another child. Then there's Friday co-op classes for my older girls. Thankfully, I have almost no involvement in those - yet.
     Quite honestly, the structure is beneficial. Summer had been very unstructured, unfocused and rather uneventful. I was grateful it was a cool summer, but it was different having Tim home throughout the whole summer and out of a job. I wasn't looking forward to the girls starting school, either. I told myself that I didn't need to look forward to starting the school year, I just had to do it. "Be faithful to what your called to, Laura" I kept telling myself. And sure enough, that first week I had little glimpses of joy and satisfaction at having my time claimed by various activities and involvements that I believe are in my children's best interests. It was also quite gratifying to have just Daisy and Julia with me during the morning. (The older girls are fairly self-sufficient in their school work in the morning.) We went to the library and park several times. I really want to soak in these last few years having toddlers and preschoolers. It's a precious time for me and them and it turns into high school before you know it.
     I'm sure next month I'll be complaining about how worn out I am! I hope to keep a grounded sense of humor, the right focus, and a continual prayer and praise life. I can't imagine managing a household with 6 kids and all their spiritual, educational, social, developmental, and physical needs without Christ. I don't have that natural love for all these aspects of child raising and the sacrifices I'm required to make can seem challenging at times. I really have many interests that go beyond my home and I look forward to the day when I can begin to explore those interests. But not at this time. This time belongs to my husband and children. I have a whole lifetime to explore my interests. I will never regret throwing everything I have into caring for my children.
     But I really enjoy the quiet at the end of the day when I can curl up with a good book for just a couple of moments, even if I am fighting to keep my eyes open for just one more page....

I Vacationed In Hell And Lived To Tell About It

2010-08-31T22:47:00.000-07:00

The Westin Desert Willow

Well, to be accurate, Palm Springs isn't exactly Hell, but when it's 121 degrees in the early afternoon on Highway 111 near downtown Palm Springs, it's mighty close to that undesirable location. Or when it's 100 degrees at 10:00 at night and my cheerful, heat-tolerant husband says, "Hey, wanna' go for a walk? It's a beautiful evening!" I feel guilty and wimpy for saying, "No way, Jose! (or, Tim, in this case and in every case. I actually have never taken a walk, or will, with any man named Jose. Not that that's not a nice name for a man, just no man I will ever stroll around with at 10:00 at night. Boy do I digress!) Please remind me NEVER to vacation there in the late summer. My Dad and Step-mom were kind to give us some of their time share days in the brand new and lovely Westin Desert Willows, but this vacation princess can't handle the heat.
The desert landscape, especially in winter, spring, and late fall, is actually quite magnificent. I really appreciate and enjoy some of the lovelier views of the San Gorgonia mountains and the lovely desert flowers in the Palm Springs and Joshua Tree desert areas. Just not in the dead heat of summer.

     Interestingly enough, the day (early!) we returned from Palm Springs, I had started Chuck Swindoll's biography about Moses, entitled Moses: Man of Selfless Dedication. Chuck describes how Moses, at around the age of 40, killed an Egyptian man, and then fled to the desert of Midian. (His description of the hot desert was so familiar to me!) Moses begins tending sheep for Jethro, marries the man's daughter, and has two boys. He led this quiet, humble, obscure life for FORTY YEARS. He had been schooled in the finest Egyptian schools and was being groomed to be the next pharaoh of Egypt. That is, until that fateful day when he avenged a fellow Hebrew's honor, leading to murder, and then his escape after he is found out.
     Chuck goes on to make the application that many of us are in "desert seasons" where life is not as we had hoped or would like. Life is hard, confusing, unsettling. We wonder when things will change for us. Apparently, Moses had no hope of ever leaving the desert. About 80 of his 120 years on earth were spent in the desert. God used that man in a mightily memorable and potently powerful way, though. NO doubt about it. It is quite reasonable to conclude that he was being prepared to be God's agent in leading the Israelites out of Egypt during his "desert training" which had been custom-fit for him.
   It made me wonder about a couple things, naturally. Am I in a desert season of my life? Do I wish things were different? Am I waiting for God to deliver me from trials and difficulties that seem unabated? Hmmm...
   Yes and no. At the foundational level of my faith, my desire is to be content in ALL seasons, even the hardest ones. The Apostle Paul encourages this when he says, "I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content" (Philippians 4:11). It seems ungrateful, proud, and presumptive of me to say, "God, I feel like I'm in a desert. When are things going to get better?" Does that kind of thinking mean I'm not grateful for all I have now? I've come to accept that life is not fair (my Dad was right!). This outlook is actually not depressing or negative - it's based in reality. And once I accept this reality, any pleasant circumstance, person, or turn of events is really appreciated and welcomed. I find I enjoy life more because I'm not expecting or feel entitled to ease, convenience, or comfort. I have quite a ways to go with this outlook, but so far it has been quite helpful at keeping more emotionally even-keeled and calmer with life's unpleasant surprises. This is particularly true when I go shopping now and, heaven forbid, have to return anything!
   Encouragingly enough, Chuck Swindoll cites this passage of Scripture regarding Moses' time in the desert: "He found him in a desert land, and in the howling waste of a wilderness; He encircled him, He cared for him, He guarded him as the pupil of His eye" (Deuteronomy 32:10). How Chuck applies this to Moses' life, and the application for our lives as well, is most heartening. I highly recommend the book.

   As I was writing this post earlier, I was reminded of a "vision" I saw about 20 years ago when I was a new Christian. I was living at home, going to PCC, my Mom was sick with breast cancer, and there was the ever-present garden-variety smattering of conflicts, tension and challenges that I grew up with, and one newer challenge to boot. My parents weren't happy about my zealous, new-found faith. They were critical and unkind.
   I remember one particular day when I was in my room depressed about life and talking to Jesus about the whole thing. I was probably crying. In my mind's eye, I saw a picture of a desert that I had never seen before. This was a desert in the extreme sense - a desolate wasteland, ground so dry there were deep, jagged cracks all over the surface, and absolutely NOTHING around as far as the eye could see. There was not one living thing anywhere. This place was death personified in a landscape form. And....there I was, right in the middle of it, hovering by myself, sullen, upset, all alone. And then in my mind I see Jesus - not really his face, but a man that I knew was him in long, flowing robes and a walking stick. From out of nowhere he appeared and was walking straight toward me. When he got close to me, he simply looked at me. I had been found. He had met me in the place that I had gone to hide in my self-pity, despair and discouragement. He didn't hug me, chastise me, or even smile at me. He just looked at me with a warm look in his eyes that said: "Here I am. You can't ever get too far away where I won't find you. And I will always find you."
   To say the least, it was profoundly encouraging then and now. Perhaps you're in a desert season? The temptation in those times is to GET OUT in ways that might not honor God or benefit you in the long run. What's so amazing, though, is that He's looking for you and He will find you. He's just a heart's cry away.

Happy 18th Wedding Anniversary, Tim!

2010-08-22T18:10:00.000-07:00

Oddly enough, I won't be seeing Tim till tomorrow. He has the girls till tomorrow in Palm Springs all by himself, plus one of the girls' friends. I've been home for the weekend soooooo enjoying myself! When I've called to see how everyone is, I hear urgent pleas, "Please come soon! It's crazy here!" I hear the screaming in the background and I don't doubt it. I'll be leaving tomorrow with my sister, Sarah, to join them. I think it's beneficial that they all really miss me. What a sweet reunion it will be!
18 years of marriage....what have I learned? A couple of thoughts come to mind:
1) God loves me and my husband more than I could possibly understand.
2 )God is more committed to my marriage than I am.
3) God will do anything and everything to help me honor my commitment to Him and my husband. Usually the "anything" is protracted, painful, disorienting trials that force me to depend on God.
4) I experience severe trials quickly when I go against my husband's authority in a rebellious manner. I have come to believe this is God's quick and kind discipline to keep me in a position of safety - submitted to my husband who is under God's authority. This is primarily protective for me.
5 ) My marriage is not about me, my feelings, my rights, what I deserve, etc. It is about glorifying God in every way I possibly can with each thought, comment, act, deed, etc. toward my husband. It is the resolution of my heart and mind to love and delight in my husband and want his good and well-being above my own comfort. This is only done with complete, constant dependence on God. See # 3.
6) My daughters are watching my example as a wife, friend, and partner to my husband, their father. They are learning everything important about marriage by observing my behavior, attitudes, and words toward their father. By loving their father and trusting God for strength and biblical guidance, I provide a protective environment of peace (even in the craziness of our large family) and unity because I am submitted to Dad's authority and trusting God to lead their father. This has provided many moments of laughter, instruction, and joy in our family. This is God's doing.
7) God will reward me for my faithfulness and commitment to my husband because it is done to please my sweet, loving savior, Jesus Christ.
8)I fear God. He watches and sees and knows. He will not be mocked. He will hold me to my commitment. See # 3 and # 7.
9) No one can be happily married for the long haul without following biblical principles, regardless of whether they acknowledge God or not. Marriage works because God's commandments of submission, respect, service, and sacrifice between husband and wife are followed. Again, this is regardless of whether the couple would acknowledge that these are God's laws or not.
10) Only Jesus can satisfy the depths of my needy soul. Only Jesus can bring delight and peace to my troubled thoughts and painful emotions. He is my perfect Comforter, Counselor, and Lover of my soul.

Anyway, those are a couple of my thoughts. I love Tim. I love his sweetheart lips, which several of our daughters have (yeah!), his beautiful sculpted nose and his fabulous hair. I sound superficial, but there are many more things I love about him. He's a hard worker, an excellent provider, he has a sweet, decent, kind heart, he's very hospitable and welcoming to our home, he delights in our daughters and wants the very best for them, and he's got a funny sense of humor. He asks me out on dates on a regular basis! I love that he wants to be with me. I cherish him and see him as a gift from God.
I'm looking forward to seeing him tomorrow!

A picture of a picture taken in November of 2009

Summer Birthday Highlights

2010-08-20T21:41:00.000-07:00

Julia's 2nd birthday was July 13th. Here are some highlights:

Next was Camille's 13th birthday on July 26th. We had a small family dinner because I had taken her to Magic Mountain a month prior. I bought her a small cake and some cupcakes for my other girls.

Happy Bumpa - we're happy he's alive!

Elena's birthday was August 8th and she turned 15. She had a slumber party with her friends.

Elena was hiding in this picture - but not Camille!

Whew! I'm done with my girls' birthdays for the year. It was a nice birthday season. Happy birthday girls!

Are We Having Fun Yet? The Princess Goes Camping

2010-08-07T21:31:00.000-07:00

     Umm, I don't consider myself a "princess," but I never grew up camping on family vacations. My family lived in Mammoth Lakes from about mid-June to early September every summer from 1971 to 1982. We hiked, fished, canoed, water-skied (a total blast! although a little algae-ish at times), went inner tubing (so much fun!) down the Owens River, and did all sorts of really fun outdoorsy things in the High Sierras.

     And then we went to our large, spacious condo and showered, ate hot pizza and ice cream sandwiches, and sat in the jacuzzi down at the Rec Room after playing endless games of Pac Man, ping pong, and Pool. We had lots of friends and loud music (Reo Speedwagon, Journey, Billy Joel, Van Halen, U2 - this was the music of my childhood and early 'tweenhood - so awesome!). We'd walk up the road from the Rec Room gazing at the marvelously God-glorifying bright twinkling stars against the black night sky and breeze in the front door of the condo. We'd watch some VHS (so new and novel at the time!) God-dishonoring, stupid, teen horror flick, and then collapse in our cozy beds with warm, comfy blankets and soft pillows. Ahh...it was bliss in the High Sierras.

     So, you see, I never knew sleeping on the hard ground in sleeping bags (or in the car after a 3 am trip across the dark campground to the bathroom and then returning to find Tim and my little ones sprawled all over my portion of our bedding and so off to the car I went), eating wienies and beans over a smokey, dirty fire grill, wrestling with roasted marshmallows and chocolate stuck to every inch of my and my toddler's hands, and dirt - dirt, dirt, dirt, and showers that cost 75 cents after a hike across the campground lugging all my clothes and camp shower toiletries.

     I don't want to be a princess, but in some ways, I am - a High Sierra Princess! (That sounds so much better!)

     Several months ago I discussed with Tim the idea that maybe we should take a family vacation. We have a very limited vacation budget. So, I reserved a couple of days at McGrath State Beach in Oxnard. I don't like the idea of having to hide our camp food from bears. That is way too difficult for me to fathom. So, beach camping it is! A week approaching our camping trip, I was rather disinclined to try and round up all of our camping gear and figure out food and how to work a brand new propane stove we've never used, and all the bedding. Ugh....if Tim didn't want to help out in a BIG way - no problem. We'll just forgo the trip.

     Tim was willing to help out. So, off we went. We had an enjoyable time. I only had one temper tantrum over access to the bathrooms without going through other people's camp sites. (Please people, make a path!) At any rate, my plan was to sleep over Friday night and then leave with my little ones on Saturday evening, after some friends joined us. Tim would leave the following day with our friends. I was happy to see our friends, and happier to leave.

     My own shower felt so delightful and my bed was so welcoming. You see, I'm not that much of a princess. Okay, okay, I'm willing to try camping again, but I have to make adjustments to the whole bed thing and learn how to work that propane stove. I will, because camping is adventurous and memorable, even for a High Sierra Princess.

Responsibility and Restitution - Part 2: The Vacuum Cleaner and Starbucks

2010-07-22T22:18:00.000-07:00

So, it's taken me awhile to get back to my little blog. This post is a tad humbling, but here I go:
Along with a $5 Starbucks gift card (this is where Starbucks comes in), here's a sample of the note I enclosed in a small envelope for each recipient:

Dear Vacuum Cleaner Saleswoman and Manager at Sears(I used their real names, actually):

Please forgive me for my rude and demanding behavior the other day. I allowed my frustration to turn in to pride and selfishness on my part. I am sorry. Here is a $5 Starbucks gift card to help you recover from having to deal with me the other day. Thank you for understanding. Sincerely, Laura Thomas

This note, and the event that preceded it, came the same week I was reading The Kalahari Typing School for Men. In that book I was so affected by the story of the man who seeks restitution for grievous wrongs he committed over 20 years ago. The restitution not only included an apology, but money directed in helpful ways as well. All parties were satisfied and a wrong had been righted to the best of any person's ability. As I was reading this, my vacuum cleaner (here's where the vacuum cleaner comes into the title of this post) had been out of commission and should have been fixed by Sears. There was much communication, missed calls, misinformation, and a growing layer of crumbs and yuck on all my carpeted floors. It really got to me. And then I was told, while offering no loaner vacuum cleaner and waiting for over two weeks, that they could not fix the vacuum cleaner. I won't go into how I responded after having been patient and understanding for those two weeks, but suffice it to say, the manager and saleswoman will enjoy a much-deserved latte or frappuccino on me.

I decided to give them gift cards because as I was reading that story of the man taking responsibility for his wrong doing AND making restitution, I had to ask myself: do I make restitution as well as take responsibility when I've messed up with others? When I'm argumentative with Tim, or I yell at my kids, do I make an extra effort to not only ask for forgiveness, but do something extra special for them? Maybe a hug, a thoughtful note, their favorite cookies, or maybe a quick getaway with Mom for a little chat and an ice cream cone?

What brought on so many tears as I was reading that story in The Kalahari Typing School for Men was the idea that someone would go the extra mile, so to speak, to try and make their apology have some meaning to it. That man had to sacrifice some of his wealth to prove he meant, "I'm sorry." It hit a tender nerve in my heart because there are issues in my past that I would love for people to not only say "I'm sorry" but go the extra step with restitution. I, however, don't want money or any material things as restitution. It's hard even now for me to put into words how I struggle with this longing to completely forgive people who have wronged me, and what restitution might look like. Perhaps restored relationships and a deeper care and consideration that goes both ways in the relationship. To some extent, I saw this occur in one relationship of mine this past year. I still marvel at how God put all that together. Another story for another time. Anyway, with other unresolved relationships and circumstances letting expectations go of how all this will work out for my good, and theirs, has been a trial for me.

It takes me back to my faith in Jesus Christ. He took all my sin, and everyone else's, on himself so that the ultimate penalty for sin, Hell, would be removed for those who accept his free offer of salvation. For the believer, we're told that God works all things together for the good of those who love Jesus and are called according to his purpose. I believe all these things are true of me: I love the Lord and I've been called to glorify him with my life: my "purpose."

What I struggle with is the patience and humility required to trust God, extend a blessing of prayer or practical kindness to those who have hurt me, and remain more aware of my need for forgiveness than my desire for others' to take responsibility and make restitution when they've wronged me. This takes a steady supply of focusing on the Author and Finisher of my faith, and being vigilant to keep my own heart in a place of dependence on God. Quite a challenge for this head-strong, proud girl.
I also felt God tugging at the photo album of my heart and opening it to pictures of my past where I've struggled with injustices I observed and suffered. I felt God was showing me that this area of injustice is a sensitive trigger because there are many incidents that I need to bring to him to let him heal and help me put in the right perspective. These healing matters of the heart - this weighty business with God - often takes time and comes in little waves of prayers, conversations, journal-ling, etc. But just the awareness of why this area of justice, being wronged, pride, and a demanding spirit churns in my thinking and emotions is exceptionally helpful in lessening its power. I feel like I'm making progress in responding to customer service issues, vacuum cleaners, an imperfect husband, and flawed, though adorable, children in a way that pleases God and glorifies Him.

I'm so glad that he's more committed to this process than I am. I can rest in His faithfulness.

Responsibility and Restitution - Part 1: The Girlfriend and the Radio

2010-07-08T21:45:00.000-07:00

So, I've really been enjoying the series of books by Alexander McCall Smith lately. The first book, made into an HBO series, is titled The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency. I have thoroughly enjoyed every one of these books. I am enlightened by the wisdom, intelligence, sensitivity and kindness of the lead character, Precious Ramotswe. Her assistant, the ever plucky and highly competent (97% on her exam from the Botswana Secretarial College!) Grace Makutsi is charming as well. Book number 4, The Kalahari Typing School for Men really touched a very emotional chord in my heart; a chord I was surprised existed to the extent that was revealed.

     In this book, there is a man who seeks the services of Mma. Ramotswe to find three individuals from his past. As a college student he was staying with a host family who had been very kind to him. As young and foolish individuals can be, certain events in his life having to do with a girlfriend and a radio led him to make atrocious decisions that would torment him for twenty years. That is, until Mma. Ramotswe tracks down the individuals and smartly helps this now successful and wealthy family man, Mr.Molefolo, confess his wrongdoings, take responsibility for his awful choices, and make appropriate restitution for the whole mess to two individuals. The restitution was costly, but Mma. Ramotswe brilliantly points out that, "I do not think that you can make up for these things cheaply. Do you?" In the end, the man pays out a lot of money, but his clear conscience was priceless. The story ends very satisfactorily and happily.
      Restitution satisfies a wrong doing in a practical, tangible way.It is the ultimate, "Put your money where your mouth is." It almost always follows an acknowledgment of wrongdoing - an apology. One dictionary definition is: a making good of or giving an equivalent for some injury. My response to this beautiful and poignant illustration of this rare-found principle was, well, a real bawl-fest. Yep - I cried really hard and had to examine why I was so moved by this story.
     Just days later, this issue would come to the forefront in all places but Sears. I would be given the opportunity to work through this whole idea of justice (yes, customer service issues again!), taking responsibility for wrongdoings, making restitution, and having a clear conscience. It's rather a humbling story, involving a vacuum cleaner and Starbucks, so I'll save it for my next post. (I have to work up the courage to actually put it on my blog. Ahh...confession is beneficial for the soul...in a few days maybe....) Stay posted.

Roller Coasters and Reflexology: Whoo-Hoo and Ahhh...

2010-07-03T12:52:00.000-07:00

In a 2 day span of time, my body has been thrust through air in 360 degree circles, I've fallen over 100 feet in midair, twisted, glided, been rocketed upwards at speeds exceeding 100 mph, whizzed through the air at high speeds on my belly and had my head jerked and pulled in every direction imaginable. I've shrieked, "Oh God! Oh God!" numerous times in sheer terror and exhilaration. My neck, shoulders, fingers and toes have been squeezed, grabbed, pounded on, rubbed and pummeled. My feet, arms, and back have been massaged, pressed on, pulled, and popped till I groaned, "uugghhh" and "ahhh...".

And I loved every minute of it.

It started about a month ago when Camille (pictured in upper left corner) asked to go to Magic Mountain with her non-skiddish, daring, FUN friends for her 13 the birthday. So, a month prior to her birthday, we embarked on our anticipation-filled trip to Six Flags Tattoo Mountain. Oh, sorry, that would be Six Flags Magic Mountain. (I got distracted at the memory of all those bare shoulders and legs with lotsa' colorful, sprawling, curious-looking tattoos. Tattoos will most likely be a whole separate blog post). We arrived early, waited in line, and then attacked the lines of the best rides EVER. To be with these 11 and 12 year old girls, one who was a newbie to Magic Mountain, Haylie, was simply and utterly delightful. Shannon, the experienced Magic Mountain goer, filled me in on all the details about the rides. These girls, so charming and sweet, ran through the park, gave each other victorious "we lived to tell about it" high fives, plotted excitedly their next destination of sheer delight and terror, and said continually throughout the day, "That was soooo awesome! Thank you sooo much Mrs. Thomas/Mom for bringing us here today. You rock!" To share in their enthusiasm, clapping and cheering in sheer jubilation as I watched them fall 150 feet and then swing back and forth 50 feet in the air on "Dive Devil" (a little extra $, but so worth it), made all my aches and pains the next day totally worth it.

And I was rewarded. My sweet, classy and generous stepsister, Wendy, scheduled a 1 hour reflexology massage for for the two of us the next day - her treat (thanks again Wendy!). That would describe the massaging, pinching and pummeling in the latter part of the first paragraph. It was so wonderful and relaxing. I got to keep all my clothes on, too! Afterward, we traipsed through Old Town to a cute little Parisian cafe and had a sumptuous lunch and wonderful conversation.We'll have to make it a regular outing for sure!
Magic Mountain, however, well....let's see...it'll be 4 more years till Leanne turns thirteen so I have some time to recover. Whew! I'll need it. And unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of us at Magic Mountain. I was worried about losing my camera or cell phone, and photos they take of you there were a small fortune. So, perhaps I'll update this blog post later with a picture of the three giggly, spirited tweenagers.

Formula (Bag) for Success

2010-06-17T17:09:00.000-07:00

     I take Tim to the Metro every morning at 5:45 am. We figure that we can save some money on gas and wear and tear on our Suburban if he takes the train to work in the morning. One afternoon I noticed the bag he stuffed all of his important "teacher" papers into as well as a massive chemistry textbook, his sweater, and his lunch. It was a fairly large black vinyl bag with beige trim on the top. Up near the top zipper was a small tag that read "Enfamil LIPIL."
   Hmm....I pondered. Tim is a veteran teacher who has teaching credentials in life and physical sciences. The range of topics he's taught includes, but is not limited to: biology, chemistry, geology, algebra, physics, geometry, health education, and driver's education (I know - that last one's hard to believe but true). He's usually at school earlier than most teachers and leaves later than the rest. He works year round and teaches before the bell rings to signal that class has begun and is still shouting out last minute instructions as his students leave the class room. His department chair described this scene and I totally believed it. He pours dozens of hours into preparing to teach a newer subject, with detailed, publisher-worthy notes to help his students digest the materials more easily. His students' scores on state standardized tests are the highest of any teacher in his department. This is significant in itself. With a student population of almost 5,000 and over 20 teachers in his science department, I was impressed, but not surprised to learn this fact.Tim is an accomplished and well-respected teacher. And despite his boyish smile and quirky charm, at almost 6'4" with broad shoulders, he's a commanding presence in the classroom, too.

   And he carries a diaper bag to work.

     As he wrestled his diaper bag into our gas-saving little gray Corolla several times this week, I couldn't resist making a couple of comments about it when I picked him up from the Metro station.
   "Hi honey. How are you? Did you have enough formula for the day?" or
      "Hey Tim. How was your day? No one decked you on the streets of East LA as you carried a diaper bag to work, did they?" I was quick to reassure him, however, that he was manly enough to pull off a diaper bag briefcase. I let him know that his masculinity was not at all affected by his choice of carrying bags. After all, he is a Modern Man.
     The puzzled look on his face, slight shrug of the shoulders, and tired silence indicated to me that he didn't care about his choice of a carrying receptacle for his school stuff. Do you think I offered to buy him, let's say, for Father's Day, a well-appointed briefcase or a stately-looking canvas satchel? Nah. He would've declined it immediately for the following reasons:
1)Tim is very pragmatic. His diaper bag is perfectly capable of performing the job he needs it to. Why spend money if you don't have to?
2)It's not pink, floral, or frilly.
3)He is the ultimate absent-minded professor if there ever was one.
4)He is the father of six girls. Need I say more?

No wonder I adore him!

Corner Office With A View

2010-06-16T14:37:00.000-07:00

     I've been promoted! Sort of....We finally moved Julia out of her little nursery off our bedroom into the girls room. We managed to cram her crib into their room that already has two bunk beds- one with a full size bed. Yes, it's a tad crowded (please don't call the fire department!), but it's very workable for now.
---Mother with a large family and very few bedrooms tip #1---Don't have any unnecessary toys, books, or clothes in the bedroom overflowing with kids. I've learned that kids don't need a lot of clothes and books tend to get strewn all over the floor and ripped apart. This is very, very bad (given that I have a love affair with books and the utmost respect for most of them). Solution: keep books only on beds and very few of them at that. And toys- oh those things we spend a ridiculous amount of money and time buying, sorting, organizing, and picking up again and again. Same principal applies, however: the fewer toys, the better. Most of the girls' toys are stored in their closet up high and out of reach. The rest of the toys - and a limited amount at that - are stored in our large, spacious playroom (thank you, God!).
     Anyway, our plan when we constructed Julia's nursery off our bedroom was to eventually make that little room an office. It's in the southeast corner of our home and the view out of that window is the best view in the whole house. There are city lights to the south at night, a majestic mountain view to the north, and a peaceful field view to the east. Pure visual pleasure! So, after hours of wrestling with dozens of outdated files in our lonely filing cabinet that had been subjected to our scary, messy garage, I hauled it into my office. It fit perfectly in the corner next to my next desk and even looks quite satisfied now that it's updated and ready for official home business!(That was some project! Tim saves everything! But not anymore....shh...) An organized filing system is critical to important documents that can't be easily "computerized." So, after negotiating the space and use of various pieces of furniture in and around my house (and basement) and buying some small things, I set up "Mom's Office - Keep Out Or Enter At Your Own Risk." The only thing missing is an internet connection, but one more trip to Best Buy for an ether net cable splitter ought to do the trick.

     For the six years I've lived in this house, my "office" has been in a central location, accessible to all the kids and in full view of any visitors. It's been miserable, especially in the last couple of years with more kids home using the computer for school, games, "socializing," etc. To keep my papers and bills organized has been exceedingly challenging. To have a quiet place to work on record-keeping, budgeting, planning, and so on has been non-existent and profoundly discouraging. For most of our married life I have paid the bills and managed our paperwork and finances. Tim and I discuss our budget and financial issues fairly frequently and without much disagreement (especially the small stuff), but I take care of the nuts and bolts and daily expenditures of our household. This is due to the fact that I spend most of the money (I consider part of my job title "Professional Consumer") and have a lot more time during the day to make phone calls. Tim recently asked me if I'd like him to take over paying the bills, but I declined the offer. I requested that instead we meet once a month to discuss how I've done on our budget and what needs and financial issues are coming up. We haven't met yet, but now that I can invite him into my office for an appointment perhaps it will happen soon. I can sell him on the point that my office has a beautiful view!
     In all the many papers I perused while sorting through our file cabinet, I came across some old notes from a women's meeting at church. I was reminded how impacted I was by a comment our former pastor's wife made: "I look at my role as a home schooling, full-time homemaker as my job." This is my "career" were the scribbled notes on my handout. What a thought! Years ago someone estimated the dollar value of a full time homemaker to be about $70, 000 per year. I think the more kids you have, though, the higher the number! (So, maybe about $110,000 for me - yeah, right!). A career implies a wardrobe (I really try to avoid sweats), continuing education like websites, books, and discussions on meal planning, housecleaning, managing a family schedule, etc, and regular pay raises - oh, I'm sorry, I've become delusional (I really need to spend more time in the real world with more adults). I just make sure that, in lieu of a regular paycheck, I go to Bean Town on Saturday mornings BY MYSELF for a large diet Coke (light ice, please) and my favorite chocolate chip orange scone (the best ever). Although, when Daisy asked if she could go with me this last Saturday, I couldn't refuse. We shared my scone, she got a gumball for 1 cent, and we played Mickey Mouse UNO. What a splendid date it was!
     But really, though, full time homemaking is not viewed as a highly desirable career choice. Who studies to be a "homemaker"? My mom used to encourage me to get a degree in home economics (do such majors exist anymore?) because of how versatile it is. I opted for social science instead which afforded me hours of studying and listening to lectures on history and political science, to name a few topics. My intellect was stimulated and challenged from those classes, although I did not find them helpful to me in any real world sense.
     Interestingly enough, which celebrity figure, notwithstanding her jail time a few years back, makes loads of money on domestic, homemaking things? Billionaire Martha Stewart! I think people really do want encouragement and guidance on how to cultivate a beautiful, productive, enriching home environment. The "domestic arts" really are valuable. And the truth is - not many people can manage a home well without years of working at it, trial and error, and a real vision for it. Just doing the laundry and dishes and changing diapers doesn't make for a well kept and peaceful home. Although, let me clarify, in those years when I had lots of little babies and toddlers that didn't sleep and made constant messes (Julia would still fit that profile), I was doing GREAT if I got the laundry and dishes done and had managed to avoid a raging diaper rash on my baby and toddler's bottoms because I had regularly changed their diapers. There are different seasons for different standards.
     In fact, there are different styles of homemaking, too. Mine tends to be the "Well, the mess isn't bothering me enough at this point to do anything about it yet" approach. This is not a style I encourage any woman to aspire to. Truth is, every working mom I know has told me that staying at home and raising kids full time is harder than going to their job. Wow- maybe they need a corner office with a view! (Really, though, my hat is off to all those ladies who can juggle working outside their home and motherhood. I really admire that kind of skill and talent.)
   Well, now that I have a charming and private office, I'm eager to sort through weeks of receipts to see how much money I've spent so far this month. Who am I kidding? I never want to do that, but at least the view from my office is fabulous!

Born and Bred, Baby

2010-06-09T21:32:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I was looking at some Yelp Reviews and this woman claimed proudly that she was a born and bred native Pasadenan, "born and bred, baby." I thought, Is that a claim to fame? So am I. I have noticed in my adult life that many people are transplanted to Pasadena from other states or surrounding areas. So few people I know were born in Pasadena and have lived here their whole life. But I have, baby, I have.
     So, what about that? I remember being born at Huntington Memorial Hospital. I remember the squeezing sensation, the bright lights, those rubberized hands on my fuzzy head of hair. Oh, just kidding - I only imagined what it was like. OK - back to reality and out of the Freudian psychoanalytic take on my earliest memories. But really, my earliest memory at around age 2 is featured in this old blog post .
   And then we moved to South Pasadena in April of 1973. About a year later I attended Calvary Pre-School. I have vivid memories of climbing the big playhouse steps to play "store." I delighted on filling my little kiddie basket with pretend food and taking it to the register. An early shopper in training! (I don't recall having any customer service issues then. How things change over the years!)
   Then there was my first grade teacher, Mrs. F. at Marengo Elementary School. She used to bite her fingernails to the nubs. Her perfume smelled so lovely, though. Apparently, the principal thought so, too, I later found out. (Much later!) I distinctly remember my math worksheets in 1st grade; the colorful squares and triangles I added up to get a total. Early math merriment! Too bad it never really caught on...

Skip to Mrs. Taylor in 6th grade. She was a dynamic and remarkable teacher. She would regularly take groups of students to the Norton Simon Museum. She gave us a snack of cookies and juice beforehand. Yum. The museum was cool. I haven't been back there since, but have aspirations to. One of these days.

Then there was 8th grade when I ran for some elected office. I think secretary. I remember my election speech. My Dad coached me and I realized what a great speaker and teacher my Dad was. I lost the race, but learned valuable tips from my Dad about public speaking that I still use today.
South Pasadena Middle School has always been beautiful and historic looking. Their auditorium had the most stunning art work, too. I'll never forget the beautifully tiled ceiling. Apparently it's under construction. I vividly remember the assembly when they played music while waiting for everyone to get seated. The music they played, you might ask? Some new artist whose first hit song was "Holiday" - Madonna perhaps?

     Then there was South Pasadena High School. It's been completely renovated, but I remember how charming the old school used to be. In that learning establishment there existed the most horrid cliques of the nastiest folks that could be found anywhere. I believe they've all grown up to be magnanimous and successful individuals at this point in their lives (one can hope at least). I didn't go to my 20th reunion, although I really wanted to. Julia had been born just 6 days prior and I was still recovering from my tubal ligation surgery. The night of my reunion had been a particularly difficult night as well. At any rate, I have fun memories of high school there. I was a B Honors and AP student. One striking memory was when I did a skit with the year book staff for a school assembly. I pretended to be "Lola" and danced along to a Barry Manilow song of the same name. I'll never forget the garish makeup and hot pink feather boa around my neck. Ever since then my nickname has been, well, you guessed it: "Lola."
     During my high school years we used to shop at the Plaza Pasadena. Anyone remember that shopping establishment? It was on the edge of the bad part of town, there had been the murder of a young girl at the mall, and in its later years, it looked like a ghost town. About half the stores were vacant and it was a scary place to be. There had been an increase in violent assaults both in the mall and the parking lot from what I recall.
     It was also close to Old Town Pasadena. That area 20 years ago was the seedy part of town. There were quite a few abandoned buildings, a really old Woolworth's, and XXX book shops and video stores. Nasty! Well, as the time passed, the Plaza Pasadena was ripped down, Paseo Colorado was built in its place, and Old Town has become filled with high end shopping stores and fancy restaurants now. How 20 years can totally revitalize an area! My mother would hardly recognize Colorado Boulevard if she could see it now.

On Friday nights during elementary school, across from the Plaza Pasadena, we'd go ice skating at the Pasadena Ice Rink. My sisters and I would each take a friend, pile into our old blue Suburban, and my mom would take us ice skating. We would skate to "Hot Child in the City" by Foreigner. Remember that one? It was a blast. My mom loved ice skating. It was fun watching her and hearing the stories of her early skating years on frozen lakes in Illinois. On the way home, we'd stop by Shakers on Arroyo Parkway and pick up a pie for my Dad. Another yum.
There are so many memories of the Pasadena area that I have. It's a great place to live. I'm thrilled to live right next to Pasadena, but still be in small town Sierra Madre.I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. "The boundaries have fallen in pleasant places" indeed.

Last Day of School

2010-06-04T18:45:00.000-07:00

     What can I say? I lay in bed this morning trying to let that fact soak in to my brain. I thought back to the beginning of the year and all the optimism, joy, and relief I had because so many elements of homeschooling all my kids seemed easier than half the kids being at public school while the other half was at home. How did the year go? Well, Tim wanted to put the middle ones, Chloe and Leanne, back in school this next year. He wanted their school work to be more academic. I resisted at first. I thought their school work was sufficient, even quality work. He wants them doing more school work. All righty then.
     The next issue was whether to prepare Camille over the summer to apply for Los Angeles County High School for the Arts (LACHSA) in the fall. This would involve costly art lessons to prepare her portfolio for submission. If she was accepted, she would attend high school in fall 2011 at this school a half hour from home on a college campus with a lengthy school day of 8 am to 4 pm. Both Tim and I felt that she needs to continue art lessons in some capacity, but how should we best accomplish that? After much discussion, prayer, and a meeting with our pastor, we decided to put her in the 8th grade at Sierra Madre Upper Campus. At this excellent school in our neighborhood they have a phenomenal fine and performing arts program. She would get high quality art instruction close to home for free! I would also avoid homeschooling two kids while having two in public school.
     Elena would stay home because her high school courses are straightforward and she practically schools herself. I've felt for years that Camille needed more structure and outside motivation. We'll take it day by day with her. She's excited about going to school. Tim and I have shelved the likelihood of her going to LACHSA mostly because of the long drive from home and the lengthy day. The driving back and forth would be very costly and taxing on me and the whole family, especially since Tim couldn't take her in the morning because he now takes the Metro to work everyday to save money. Also, so much time away from home would make it hard for her to be part of our family life and we value that highly. These years are short and fleeting. We want Camille home as much as possible, while nourishing and guiding the artist within her. Apparently, the fine arts program at Pasadena High School, beginning in the 10th grade, is phenomenal. We're not sure she'll go to PHS, but that's something we'll have to evaluate in a year from now.
     Daisy will be going to pre-school in Temple City two days a week as well. She would benefit from getting some outside social time as well as preparation for kindergarten. So I'll just have Elena and Julia home with me quite exclusively. An acquaintance asked me what I would do with all my free time. Ha, ha, I thought. I have to keep up dishes, laundry, and clean up while most of my kids are in school. They'll need help with homework in the afternoons. Besides, I still have a very active toddler and a highschooler to home school. Spare time? I don't think I'll have nearly as much as she thinks I will. We'll see.
     But maybe I'll be able to take a breath every now and then without feeling so overwhelmed at all that I have to do and the latest argument I have to referee -again, for the third time in ten minutes. For now, I'm going to prepare my school girls for their next year, do an inordinate amount of clutter-busting and organizing EVERY ROOM IN MY HOUSE (a lot got neglected this year), and have an exhilarating and fun summer. I'm looking forward to harvesting my vegetables this summer and seeing how my garden will grow. I'll keep you posted.

Brief Snapshots

2010-05-22T01:10:00.000-07:00

     Although I'm still smarting from my recent customer service crises (I didn't even mention my vacuum cleaner or dishwasher malfunctions!), a rather pleasant memory floated into my consciousness one night as I lay in bed quieting myself to sleep. Fatima - I think she was Ecuadorian or Guatemalan. She was my discharge nurse after I had Julia. She thoroughly instructed me with a mini-course on newborn care. I didn't feel I really needed it, but I did learn several new things! Wow. It just goes to show you that after 6 kids it was confirmed what I already suspected - I have a lot to learn! I will never be an expert at this "pregnancy, childbirth, baby, mommy- of- lots- of -kids" thing. (I'm often asked by incredulous-sounding people, "How do you do it with six kids?" If I'm being particularly honest that day I'll answer, "Not very well." The look of surprise on many faces is rather, well, amusing. Not that my answer is meant to generate entertainment for my sake. But, really, some days I have "it" together, but most days I don't.)
     I listened carefully and patiently to all of her information. In her thick accent, but excellent English, she explained to me all of the reasons I would call my pediatrician regarding concern for my baby. OK. The list was frighteningly long and I'm glad I never had to make calls for any of those things she mentioned. Although I was focused on what she was saying, I was also incredibly eager to leave the hospital. By 7:00 am that morning when my doctor had arrived to check on me, my room was totally cleaned up, bags packed, and birth certificate info filled out; I was ready to go home ASAP. The day's events just 18 hours prior were such that they almost catapulted me home as soon as I could leave. Every hospital stay prior to Julia's birth was stretched out to the full amount allotted. (I wanted the rest!) Not with Julia.
     After she completed her mini-course on newborn care, we began to talk about her life. She had aspirations as a young woman to become a medical doctor in her country. She married, though, had children, and eventually emigrated to the U.S. For economic reasons, she became a cafeteria worker, then gradually became a nurse and here she was today. The look of longing and pain on her face that her dreams had not been fulfilled was palpable. Perhaps due to my extra-sensitivity, postpartum, hormonal, and trauma-induced vulnerability, I really absorbed her sadness. She told me about her daughter who was at UCLA medical school and was studying to become an OB/GYN. I pointed out that she could enjoy her daughter's success, but I could tell that her derailed career dreams were too great to be overshadowed by her daughter's burgeoning medical career. It was rather heartbreaking to see, but I so appreciated her transparency. I remember hugging her two or three times, touched by her story and so grateful that she cared enough to teach and instruct me about caring for my sleepy, chubby Julia. I'm not a hugger, either. In my short stay at that hospital, she is the only medical professional who I felt genuinely cared for me as a person, and not just a patient to process and get through the system. I didn't mention her in my grievance to the hospital, however, because it was a grievance, not an evaluation of my overall care. I did mention how helpful she was to the nurse manager of labor and delivery whom I spoke with the week after Julia was born, though. "Yes, Fatima is an excellent teacher," the nurse manager responded.
     I'm pondering the idea of writing Fatima a thank you note and sending it to the postpartum unit. I want her to know how much her excellent care made such a difference in my life that, after almost two years, I would still remember her and be grateful for her professional and human touch. Perhaps, in some small way, the sadness at her "second choice" career might be lessened. I am persuaded to believe that her career course was exactly the one God had for her. I was the blessed beneficiary of "all that didn't go according to plan." Sometimes, there are those brief snapshots into others' lives, as well as our own, where we get a tiny peek at seeing how trusting God for the disappointments and "what could've/should've been" broadens and deepens our vision of how amazingly kind and wise He really is. Oh, Lord, help me to see more of you in increasing measure!

Customer Service Crises

2010-05-19T13:00:00.000-07:00

     Look closely at the picture to the right. The writing on the package is probably too small for you to see, but it says "10 Fiber Pots." I counted, recounted, and had Camille count, and if you look closely enough to count, too, you'd notice there are just 8 peat pots. Huh? False advertising? Guy stacking the peat pots doesn't know how to count to 10? Guy puttin' stack of peat pots in plastic not payin' attention? What gives? So, this is a trip back to Target - sans receipt, a BIG NO-NO for frequent Target shoppers, to swap this crazy package of peat pots out for a package of 10 - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Thank you very much!
   Ugh....the hassle, time and gas wasted. I've been trying to stay out of Target as much as possible in an attempt to stick to my budget. This last few weeks I've had multiple issues with extra trips, time, gas, and frustration due to customer service issues. Have I ever revealed that this is a real sore spot for me? Do you want to see me really blow it? Become rude, demanding, argumentative and quite obnoxious? Well, customer service issues tend to expose all that ugliness in me. Yuck! I'm usually aware of this and have gotten a little better at being polite and patient in dealing with all these various issues over the years. And I have really probed my heart and mind to extricate what is at the core of these expectations I have, this entitlement mentally that oozes from me, this sense of justice I vigorously pursue in a sinful manner. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I'm determined to get better at handling these issues in a way that pleases God. I have a ways to go.
   A recent conversation with a friend of mine who had lived in Brazil for two years helped to enlighten my perspective. Customer service in Brazil is well, um, NON-EXISTANT. Some expensive item breaks after a month? Oh well. Too bad. There's no recourse, no one to complain to. No "I'd like to speak to your manager, please." Nada. Zip. Out of luck.
   So, here are some "lowlights" (as opposed to highlights) from the last couple of run-ins with exasperating customer service issues I've encountered:

1) An hour or so spent at Verizon kiosk with paperwork in hand to get an employee discount. A month later, no discount applied. Huh? "We have no recollection of ever getting the paperwork."
2) Escrow statement reflecting a loss of over $300. Some research yields incompetence and untruths told (or shall I just be blunt and say: the escrow officer lied to me and then denied it!).Unpleasant conversation with loan officer's manager and I squeak out of him $100 recovery for incompetence. He only yielded the $100 bucks when I told him the awesome ladies at Bank of the West had made some mistakes in the past with my account, but were always sweet, helpful, and quick to fix them. I love those ladies! They strive for excellence in their job. I'm a loyal customer because of it. The guy kind of got the idea that just getting the job done is not adequate enough to generate customer loyalty, but doing the job well.
3) Going back to a store the next day after being over-charged for two items on a small shopping trip. After asking for something for my trouble, being told bluntly "NO." I argued and was rather demanding. I later had to call back and apologize to the guy. He was so shocked that I apologized it was actually funny to me (although I only laughed while retelling the story later). I don't think he's used to sincere apologies where I made no excuses. I just fessed up to being rude and said "I'm sorry."
4)My Ipod Touch completely died, was totally unresponsive to any of my "touches" to get it to turn on, the day after my last post. $200 and 37 days after I bought it. A trip to Glendale later, well over an hour of my time, and about $4 in gas, I got a new IPod. I asked for something for my trouble. The 24 year old, grungy-looking manager coldly says "NO. I can't do that." I respond, knowing full well that the multi -million dollar Apple Corporation can spring a $5 ITunes card my way, by saying, "You can do that. You just choose not to. I understand. Thank you." I handled myself so much better than my last run-in and didn't feel the need to call back and apologize AT ALL. Wow! Maybe I am making some progress!
      And then of course, I must add that CVS Pharmacy on Foothill in Pasadena totally rocks! I had a prescription I picked up and because my pharmaceutical company's computer was down I had to pay full price to get the medicine. I complained, but knew that it wasn't the pharmacy's fault. I came back the next morning to get reimbursed and the computer was still down. Ugh! So, later I send Tim to get our refund and he returns home with the refund and a $25 gift card for our trouble from CVS. Oh...thank you! And then several days later I'm picking up another prescription and the pharmacy manager sees me and comes over to apologize for all my trouble several days ago. Mind you, this whole computer fiasco was not CVS's fault in any way. I was blown away! SO impressed! I felt valued and cared for as a customer. And I'll tell everyone I know about it.I will certainly continue to shop at CVS pharmacy.
     In our American free competition, capitalist society," the land of the brave and the home of the free", that's how it works, right? Word of mouth. No better, or cheaper, advertising than that. But I have to come back to the fact that in all my interactions with people I am an ambassador for the Gospel. I am a representative for Christ. How I respond in all of these situations matters a great deal. I believe there is a place to seek compensation for inadequacy, incompetency, or rude handling by a business, but at what cost? In what manner? These are the questions I believe God will help me with. As I return to Target to exchange those peat pots today, no doubt God will give me another opportunity to practice patience and self-control. Quite honestly, I'm not looking forward to it. C'est la vie.

What's On Your Night Stand?

2010-05-13T22:29:00.000-07:00

So, in the last year God has returned to me my passion for reading. In 4th grade I way out- read the 2nd place winner of the "Who Can Read the Most Books" contest by far. My prize? A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson. I'm sad to write this, but my reaction was, after I yawned (on the inside, that is) B~O~R~I~N~G. For some reason, poetry doesn't excite or engage me like I wished it would. I've written poetry in the past, but don't enjoy reading it too much - except for children's poetry. (That's my intellectual level!). A lot of poetry is too esoteric and figurative for me. I'm a very literal, concrete kind of person. I don't get nuances very well, although I notice little details about people and can "read" them fairly accurately - sometimes. But we're talking about books, not humans.

Anyway, from the top left down to the right in the picture here's the list of books (and general publications) I read a little or a lot from most evenings before I go to bed. Sometimes I'll read after I've read to Daisy when I lay her down next to me to nap in the early afternoon.
- Thriving Family magazine by Focus on the Family publications
-Sovereign Grace Times church bulletin from some Sunday morning, probably the most recent.
-Systematic Theology by Wayne Grudem. I started this tome with the idea to work through a chapter a month. I'm not quite making that goal, at all. But I want to.
-Grace for the Moment Volume 1 by Max Lucado. Short snippets of inspiration from his many bestselling books, which have really comforted, instructed, and inspired me.
-The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter
-Ten Minutes to Bedtime! by Peggy Rathmann. We loved the cover off this book!
-The Complete Perennials Book by Ortho Books. This book has cool garden plans.
-Various spiral binders with I'm not sure what is written in them.
-My IPod Touch with a hot pink protective cover. I input my calories burned at the end of the day on my Lose It! application. I also have an alarm set to wake me in the morning to take Tim to the Metro. This also has the ESV Bible application on it so I can read my daily devotional readings in the morning or before bed at night. Whenever I can!
-Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen. This is my latest library treasure. This book is so well-written and interesting to read.
-The Ministry of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson. I was given this book by my church on Mother's Day. I'm so glad, too, because I needed a new book about motherhood for inspiration. So far, so good.
The Pleasures of God by John Piper. This book is actually very challenging to get through, despite the title. It's theologically meaty with deep truths to be mined from it. I just need to commit a few pages a day to it.
-Total Truth by Nancy Pearcey. This book was chosen for a women's book group that will hopefully be starting soon at church. I really glean so many awesome things from book groups, so I was encouraged to see one being started. This book is very intellectual and I appreciate that. I skipped ahead to the middle of the book to read about how the Industrial Revolution changed the dynamics of family structure, detrimentally. Very stimulating and thought-provoking. And that's it.

So, what's on your night stand?

Born and Bred, Baby

2010-05-10T15:38:00.000-07:00

    Okay, so I was looking at some Yelp Reviews and this woman claimed proudly that she was a born and bred native Pasadenan, "born and bred, baby." I thought, Is that a claim to fame? So am I. I have noticed in my adult life that many people are transplanted to Pasadena from other states or surrounding areas. So few people I know were born in Pasadena and have lived here their whole life. But I have, baby, I have.
     So, what about that? I remember being born at Huntington Memorial Hospital. I remember the squeezing sensation, the bright lights, those rubberized hands on my fuzzy head of hair. Oh, just kidding - I only imagined what it was like. OK - back to reality and out of the Freudian psychoanalytic take on my earliest memories. But really, my earliest memory at around age 2 is featured in this old blog post .
   And then we moved to South Pasadena in April of 1973. About a year later I attended Calvary Pre-School. I have vivid memories of climbing the big playhouse steps to play "store." I delighted on filling my little kiddie basket with pretend food and taking it to the register. An early shopper in training! (I don't recall having any customer service issues then. How things change over the years...)
   Then there was my first grade teacher, Mrs. F. at Marengo Elementary School. She used to bite her fingernails to the nubs. Her perfume smelled so lovely, though. Apparently, the principal thought so, too, I later found out. (Much later!) I distinctly remember my math worksheets in 1st grade; the colorful squares and triangles I added up to get a total. Early math merriment! Too bad it never really caught on....

Then there was South Pasadena High School. It's been completely renovated, but I remember how charming the old school used to be. In that learning establishment there existed the most horrid cliques of the nastiest folks that could be found anywhere. I believe they've all grown up to be magnanimous and successful individuals at this point in their lives (one can hope at least). I didn't go to my 20th reunion, although I really wanted to. Julia had been born just 6 days prior and I was still recovering from my tubal ligation surgery. The night of my reunion had been a particularly difficult night as well. At any rate, I have fun memories of high school there. I was a B Honors and AP student. One striking memory was when I did a skit with the year book staff for a school assembly. I pretended to be "Lola" and danced along to a Barry Manilow song of the same name. I'll never forget the garish makeup and hot pink feather boa around my neck. Ever since then my nickname has been, well, you guessed it: "Lola."
During my high school years we used to shop at the Plaza Pasadena. Anyone remember that shopping establishment? It was on the edge of the bad part of town, there had been the murder of a young girl at the mall, and in its later years, it looked like a ghost town. About half the stores were vacant and it was a scary place to be. There had been an increase in violent assaults both in the mall and the parking lot from what I recall. It was also close to Old Town Pasadena. That area 20 years ago was the seedy part of town. There were quite a few abandoned buildings, a really old Woolworth's, and XXX book shops and video stores. Nasty! Well, as the time passed, the Plaza Pasadena was ripped down, Paseo Colorado was built in its place, and Old Town has become filled with high end shopping stores and fancy restaurants now. How 20 years can totally revitalize an area! My mother would hardly recognize Colorado Boulevard if she could see it now..

Spring Birthday Season!

2010-05-08T18:52:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again. Three birthdays in three weeks! Daisy turned 4 on April 19th and we had a small family party (although with my family "small" is not quite how I'd describe it.)

For Leanne, who turned 9 on April 27th, we went to Griffith Park to ride the ponies and then play at the park. We went to Islands in Glendale and had an amusing and yummy lunch.

My brother and his wife sent generous gift cards to Target so the three birthday girls had a blast shopping for their own birthday presents. Although I was a bit frenzied and exhausted at the end of this shopping trip, I feel this is a great way to give birthday presents for kids! They had a fabulous time.
Chloe's birthday was May 8th. We went swimming at my sister's the day before and had pizza and cake. The next day Chloe had some more birthday money so she got to go shopping again after having a cinnamon roll at Bean Town. Later that day, though, her ear was bothering her considerably, despite being on antibiotics and Tylenol for a painful ear infection. Poor dear.

      My girls' aunts, uncles, and grandparents like to take them out for individual little dates for their birthdays. I cherish this practice because my girls eagerly look forward to those special one-on-one times with their relatives. They are part of such a big family that those special times are truly unique and memorable. Thank you all for that.
   Around all of my girls' birthdays I remember those moments when I first saw their face, how they were born, and what those first few days were like after I brought them home. So many intense memories course through my mind and emotions. Their births are significant markers in my life where my heart opened a little bigger, my emotions deepened, my mind was pressed to greater problem-solving and juggling abilities, and my vision was broadened to observe all that this new little baby would need as she grew.With each child I had to grow up a little more. (I should be more mature by now, you'd think, huh?)
     And grow they have! Wow...thank you Lord for each one of them. Please continue to give me greater wisdom, patience, kindness, discipline and love for each one of them. Help me to do right by them. Please, despite my failings-and I have many of them, help them to see you in a grand way, trust you wholeheartedly, follow after you exuberantly, and love you in a very unique, lasting, and personal way. If they all come to their own special and steadfast love for you till the last days of their life, I will consider that my job as their mother was satisfactorily done. Thank you, Jesus, for such a marvelous opportunity to see your strength, power, and faithful, creative love for me and these precious daughters of mine.
   And in a similar sentimental vein, I bought small gifts for all my girls and Tim for Mother's Day. A little backwards, you might ask? I wanted to validate and celebrate that each of those special people made me a mother. Without them I wouldn't be celebrating Mother's Day. Plus, I thought I'd surprise them, too!

Mother Daughter Bonding and Gourmet S'mores

2010-05-03T11:52:00.000-07:00

     Not necessarily together, that is. This last Friday, April 30th, Elena, Camille and I went to Ventura for our church's annual mother/daughter retreat. I found myself coordinating the whole thing in January. How did I get myself into this?! I pondered. It was a rocky road at first attempting to start the project and then later be informed that my ideas were different than what others wanted. So, I had to change the whole initial plan. Four months later, and with many helpful and competent ladies, the retreat went smoothly and is NOW OVER. Do I sound relieved? Excited? I am! Unfortunately, I was so busy making sure everything happened when it should have that I didn't get any pictures.However, I did come away with a renewed commitment to be more purposeful in putting aside one on one times to converse with my daughters about various "life" issues. I believe enriching fruit will come from those conversations.
     Later that night, Tim and I went to that shin-dig that I mentioned in my last post. It was at the Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles in Beverly Hills. That's the full name. OK. After hours of shopping and purchasing a fabulous, great-deal dress, new makeup, and jewelry, I decided that I really couldn't afford it all. We were over budget for April, so I took it all back and decided to trust God for my attire. I ended up wearing what I wore to my Dad's retirement party. When I arrived at the Gala, I didn't at all feel out of place or self-conscious about what I was wearing. And I saved $120! Whoo hoo! Lesson learned: I don't need to spend money I don't have to feel more worthy of such a fancy place, wealthy, high society folks, and an important event. Everything I really needed was already in my closet. Thank you God!
     The event was a fundraiser for a children's camp in Santa Barbara for underprivileged kids. The St. Vincent De Paul Society - a Catholic charity- sponsors the camp and also chooses two recipients every year to be honored for their work in the community. The other recipient, a popular actress from NCIS, was honored for her involvement in over two dozen charities. Her speech was a bit "all over the place," but her energy, her passion for helping those less fortunate, and her sweet heart was very inspiring. My father-in-law, Don Thomas, was honored for starting Young and Healthy twenty years ago. Young and Healthy provides free health care and counseling to underprivileged children in Pasadena schools. His program has been modeled in other cities and has been very successful. Don has also been to Malawi numerous times and has a passion for helping the poor, particularly mothers and babies infected with HIV in Africa. His speech was very inspiring. I was so proud of him. He models exemplary philanthropy for his children.
     The food was fabulous: a delicious bed of arugula with a peeled, poached pear filled with goat cheese had a superb blending of flavors and textures to be sure. The tomato risotto with a blue cheese organic chicken breast was moist, rich with savory flavors and absolutely delectable. The "micro greens" were a joke, though. A thin line of green syrup was placed around the chicken and rice. Micro for sure! And tasteless. The gourmet s'more was very clever, though. There was a round chocolate cake filled with chocolate cream - very rich - with a crunchy graham cracker underneath a scoop of vanilla marshmallow ice cream. On top of that was a dark chocolate swirl thing. It was wonderful to the very last bite. I was so well-behaved: I didn't lick the plate once!
     And speaking of well behaved, I was fairly dignified. It was hard, but I really tried.We were seated at the front table and the hostess of the night was this beautiful anchor lady from KTLA. She had hilarious jokes throughout the evening's events. I really laughed - heartily. I couldn't help it. She was really funny. I guess I laughed louder than anybody else because I noticed that people were glancing at me from time to time. I even apologized for laughing so hard - but she tickled my funny bone. And I love a good laugh. I think of it this way: I was beneficial for her ego. And I only had half a glass of wine ( a lot for me because I NEVER drink). One line she said that I loved: "I didn't become a vegetarian because I love animals. I became a vegetarian because I hate vegetables." Get it? I guffawed at that joke quite enthusiastically. That was my favorite.
     Anyway, it was a fun-filled, memorable evening. I also met some warmly engaging, intriguing people that I had enjoyable conversations with. And I was so relieved to get out of those God-forsaken, incredibly painful heals that looked so marvelous. Ouch...the price of beauty and fashion...a great deal for me that night! (And, being only blocks from West Hollywood, I was so grateful that my trip to the lavish, luxurious bathroom was uneventful. Phew!)

"The Talk"

2010-04-26T21:57:00.000-07:00

     Earlier today one of my daughters and I were at Costco eating churros(not me, though, I'm following my diet very carefully) and drinking a latte mocha freeze (a diet coke for me, however).She mentions that one of her friends has not had "The Talk" yet with her mother. This piques my attention. I respond:

"I haven't had 'The Talk' with you, either."

"Yes you have."

"I have?! When!?"

"Like at the breakfast table when I was seven. And you gave me a book!"

"Really?!" I burst out laughing. "What did I say?"

"Oh you know, just all that stuff" was her curt, wave-of-the-hand response.

     So we proceeded to talk about "all that stuff" somewhat and about my approach to "The Talk." My first thought, though, was what kind of mother am I that I didn't even KNOW that I had "The Talk" with my second-born daughter? Yikes! As I thought more about it I realized that my approach is a more casual one regarding informing my daughters about physiological changes their bodies will go through during puberty and about sexuality. I've always used correct terms for body parts and was very matter- of- fact about "how babies are made" but have always tried to give as few details as necessary. This all depended on the age of the child, their questions, or how the topic got brought up. I definitely don't give graphic details, and yet I inform them of the basics. Again, my approach is limited, accurate information in a matter-of-fact way. More than anything I've always tried to be relaxed, yet informative and approachable. I want my daughters to know that they can talk to Mom about puberty, body parts, sex, boys, etc. I've always tried to not "freak out" about those topics.
     Tim is quite different, however, and has a hard time with the fact that all of his daughters will be needing bras and menstruating one day. "OH, NO! STOP TALKING ABOUT THAT!" he'll shriek as he's cringing out of the room. I can't help but laugh at how God has a sense of humor. Six daughters...ha ha ha!
   However, after we returned home from Costco today the topic of dating came up. One daughter said:

"So- and -So can date when she's 16."

I replied, "Well, I don't think dating at 16 is a good thing."

"Why not? I don't think there's anything wrong with it."

Uh-oh. Time to remember not to freak out, get I Kissed Dating Goodbye by Joshua Harris and have another "Talk." These talks really vary throughout the years and seem to be getting more complicated. God help me!

Thank You, Tim!

2010-04-21T14:57:00.000-07:00

     I arrived home just minutes ago from an overnight getaway by myself that Tim kindly encouraged me to take. Thank you, Tim! As I walked through the front door I started laughing. The house was a real d*i*s*a*s*t*e*r. Lights were left on, the fan was on, clothes were all over the living and dining room floor, but there was a game of Twister on the floor that hasn't been out for years. And a load of laundry running in the washing machine. Good for Tim.

     I arrived, of course, to an empty home. On purpose. I had to ease back into being at home after having been gone for about 30 hours. I so enjoyed the peace and quiet. Tim is teaching my Spanish class at our home school co-op classes at church right now. He's never had my job for a whole, uninterrupted 30 hours before. The look of relief on his face when he sees I'm home a little early will be p*r*i*c*e*l*e*s*s. Later on, we're all going to my Dad's for dinner. So, I had the chance to jump on the computer, check my e-mail, type up this blog post, and try to tackle sorting out my messy closet in my bedroom before Tim and the kids come home.

     Tim's dad, Don, invited Tim and I to this black tie affair at the Four Seasons Beverly Hills Hotel on May 1st where he's being honored at some shin dig. Do I need to mention that I have nothing to wear? Black tie affair? Tim and I are not "black tie affair" kind of people. But, I love beautiful places, interesting people, and fancy food. It should be - well, perhaps not fun, as in Disneyland fun, but very interesting. I'll provide a report on the event later. Adios for now.

Back on the Weight Loss Wagon Again

2010-04-13T11:00:00.000-07:00

     My enthusiasm for losing weight at the beginning of December was derailed. In fact, after learning how to make yeast breads, I gained weight! I was dismayed at how heavy I had become and how I have stayed at that weight. I still enjoy making tasty, nutritious bread for my family and friends, but I need to figure out how to acquire more self-control when that bread is baking and I have to take it from the oven piping hot and fresh. Yep - a real challenge, but not beyond my determination to figure out how to manage this new temptation.
     In reality, I hate talking about weight loss, diets, body issues, etc. REALLY HATE IT. My weight has fluctuated so much throughout my life and is such a source of discouragement that I tend to avoid the topic all together. Writing about it seems easier.
     So, I've come to the conclusion that I am a statistical norm. And statistically speaking, people who lose weight and keep it off have the following traits in common:
1) They weigh themselves frequently - like everyday or every couple of days.
2) They write all their food intake down in a journal.
3) They exercise about an hour a day.
4) They lose weight with a friend and have ongoing accountability.
5) They are quick to get "back on track" when they've blown it.
6) They let friends and family know that they are trying to lose weight.
     These are the things I need to do regularly if I'm going to have success in long term weight loss and maintenance. How could I think I could do it any other way than how most people do it successfully? I'm not special, unique, or different. Although I do have a tendency to be a statistical abnormality in some ways and have been labeled "different" by people throughout the years, these weight loss rules apply to me.
     Having a new I -Touch with the "Lose It" application is very helpful in terms of having a food journal and calculator with me everywhere I go. Also, having a pedometer is very motivating as well. The goal for most people is 10, 0000 steps per day. I aim for 14, 000 but rarely reach it. My sophisticated pedometer (on clearance at Target - whoo hoo!) also gives me my calories burned for the day. I feel inspired to walk more and move more just to see how close I can get to my goal. As far as the other guidelines for success, I have those covered for now.
     Anyway, I'm making another effort at leading a healthy lifestyle to glorify God and be as useful and effective for him as I can be. Pray for me!

I Don't Get Out Much - And Maybe That's A Good Thing...

2010-04-09T17:24:00.000-07:00

Elena had fun at her concert last night. So, tonight was another concert that I took her, Camille, and their friend Madeline to at the Roxy in West Hollywood. This is not a place I usually frequent (ever), but I was going to support some boys from church, The Graves, (check out this song - it's so catchy!) who were playing in front of some record executives. The bigger the crowd, the more impressive for the record executives. I've known these boys since they were babies, the twins, Chris and Kevin, and then their younger brother, Sean, since before he was born. So, I was happy to go and see them in concert. They had some really fun, entertaining songs. They have an engaging sound and Sean, as lead singer, has a dynamic stage presence. I was enjoying myself - and then I went to the bathroom.

I was standing in front of the sink in the tiny, dirty, ugly bathroom reapplying lip gloss when these two older teenage-looking girls walk in. The one girl went into the stall while the other girl stood in the door threshold, quite close to where I was standing (small bathroom) and asked me, "Are you on a date?"
"No," I replied, capping my lip gloss and shaking my head.
Her next statement: "Are you LOOKING for something? Are you SEARCHING for something?" The way this girl said it, bracing herself in the narrow doorway and leaning her upper body toward me, opening her eyes really wide, and speaking in a rather, well, seductive voice made me wonder about two things: 1) she's on drugs, isn't she? and 2) is she, uh, hitting on me?! Say it isn't so! Is she looking for the "Mommy"type? EEEUUUWWWW!!!!! I think perhaps that she was just messing with me. I wanted to reply, "Yeah, I'm looking for something - the toilet - so I can puke!"

My response? Almost without thinking, "I have Jesus and he's all I need." At that she laughed nervously and loudly, obviously uncomfortable. And then I looked right at her and said, "And he loves you." With that I turned and left the bathroom - TOTALLY. FREAKED.OUT.
I mean, we were in West Hollywood, but I never expected to get hit on by some girl young enough to be my daughter. I later thought, Maybe she was making fun of me. That's it. She was mocking me! But I've learned not to "over think" or doubt those initial impressions I have about these kinds of situations. My intuition is usually right on. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been propositioned in my whole life (at least what I can remember. I really don't care about these kinds of things.)This isn't something I'm used to or look for. Really. Besides, I have a really cute husband! We have lots of fun together. Enough said.

What a strange night. I bet her mother didn't tell her not to do drugs before she left home.
But then, I went to the bathroom by myself. A big no-no, apparently even for adults! (At least in WeHo!)

Elena's First "Big Girl" Concert

2010-04-08T22:56:00.000-07:00

She just called me from the Fox Theater in Pomona to say that her cell phone didn't charge properly and that she might need to use her friend's cell phone later to check in with me. "No problem, " I say as I tell her to have a fun time. Before she left earlier I got a little nervous about this band she was going to see with a 21 year old friend and two of her best friends. This is the extent of the drug "education" I have given my eldest daughter:

"Don't do drugs, OK?" She looks at me with her classic Give me a break, Mom look and I smile at her.

"Don't talk to strange boys, either, OK? I mean, don't be rude, but you don't have to be that friendly either, OK?" And again, Give me a break, Mom. "And don't go to the bathroom by yourself. Go with one of your friends, OK?"

"I will Mom."

Can you feel my worry? My fear? My anxiety? I didn't think so. It's not really there. Not much, that is. My eldest, Elena, is one of the most responsible, mature, level-headed young ladies I know. I think she's a great kid and I cherish her dearly. I also really like her. She is a very intelligent, perceptive, kind person who has a dry sense of humor. She also giggles a lot around boys she likes. (At least I think she likes them. She has never revealed liking any of them. "That's fine," I tell her. "Stay away from all the boys till you're out of college and like, 24." She gives me another one of her looks Are you serious, Mom?

At any rate, she will be introduced to the world of loud music and curious-looking and acting people. The band is a fairly benign Christian-like band. Or something like that. Again, I'm not worried and when she comes home, we'll talk about it. I'll ask her about all the weirdos she saw. "Was anyone making out in front of you? Because you should have definitely looked away!" I can anticipate the look now Are you serious, Mom? Or, maybe she will have some intriguing stories. I know she'll tell me and we'll laugh about all sorts of things.

And then I'll ask her, "You stayed away from drugs, right?" And then the look, Give me a break, Mom!
Yep - that's what I thought. That's my girl.
But I have been praying for her - like all night long. When did she say she'd be home?

Another Post About Babies, Etc.

2010-04-05T23:20:00.000-07:00

     Really, though, I have very little to say these days in the blogosphere. Easter was lovely. My big crowd was a little smaller than I originally expected - about 21 or so people. It was enjoyable spending time with my stepbrother Ethan's wife Ashley. They had their 5th baby about 4 months ago and she is adorable. Of course, I love talking about child birth stories and we did! Her last labor was surprisingly more difficult than she had anticipated. "Um, yeah, sometimes that happens..." At any rate, I gave her some suggestions for avoiding some of the problems she had with this last delivery. That is, of course, if they decide to have another baby. This 5th baby of hers, much like mine was, is easy. That frequently makes a woman more likely to seriously consider having another baby.
     In fact, because Daisy was fairly easy and I didn't feel quite done, I decided to have Julia. Well, lo and behold, just like I anticipated, she has been challenging. Her demeanor is fairly mellow, but her energy level is sky high! She never stops moving. My brother nicknamed her "D.T." - for '"Domestic Terrorist." Tim and I agreed, however, that Chloe was even more challenging at that age. My brother shook his head in disbelief. Ha! Julia, being very active and a rotten sleeper (bless her sweet little unsleepy self) has cured me of wanting another baby. I am permanently done with pregnancy concerns- yeah! - and have no struggle whatsoever with regret or a longing for another baby. Had I not had Julia, however, I probably would have wondered and longed for that 6th child. And a small part of me really wanted to enjoy my last pregnancy and childbirth knowing it was my last; "The best laid plans of mice and men..." And yet God is my Redeemer, my Provider, my Friend, and an all-wise, all- knowing God. And he has a sense of humor.
     And so, currently I'm trying to tie up all the loose ends on a mother and daughter retreat that my church is putting on at the end of April. I had forgotten that I had volunteered in the fall to "help out." So, of course, that means coordinating the whole thing! Uh, is this what I signed up for? I assembled an amazing group of women at church to help with all the little details I'm not good at. So, it hasn't been that bad. My favorite part is the goody bags I'm assembling. That's been lots of fun.
     And I only have 8 weeks left of the school year....Ahh...I can't wait!

Crazy Making Days

2010-03-24T13:08:00.000-07:00

This is my butterfly and hummingbird garden

   I love my new garden(s). I have become HIGHLY motivated to plant them to maximum capacity. I have big plans with little plants. I can't wait till they start getting bigger. I also have lots of flowers and vegetables I'm starting from seed; so delightfully entertaining! I must check my seedling trays several times an hour. I know - crazy making. I really get a kick seeing the seedlings pop out of the soil. I think God will give me a gigantic garden when I get to with Heaven with tons of seed packets, perfectly lush, fertile soil and gobs of planting containers. The dirt won't get between my fingernails. I will obviously not need to wear gloves. Wow. Sometimes I can't wait.
     And then there are those days that make waiting for a couple of moments of Heaven even more trying on my patience....My house has some significant "hot spots" of disaster, chaos, and disorder in every single room - on top of the usual clutter. And Julia is like a spectacular spinning top that whizzes through each room leaving total messes in her wake. Ugh....I am worn out trying to keep up with her. And Tim is working extra long hours with extra difficult students to pay for our backyard project. He comes home understandably spent and exhausted.
     On a positive note, my Dad is home from the hospital and in good spirits. Praise God! A true miracle. My visit with my brother was very enjoyable. He had some keen insights into a couple of issues with my kids and my family that were very helpful and thought - provoking. I'll miss him.
   Spring break is coming up for us next week. We will be playing catch up from all the school work that fell though the cracks when I was at the hospital visiting my Dad. I'm also hosting Easter lunch at my house with about 35 relatives coming over.

"Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest for your souls..."

Here I come Jesus!

The kids love their new bike path, but watch out! I've almost gotten run over a few times!

Their swing set now has a huge sand area

My early Spring garden

You can already see the clutter!

Drop by and visit anytime!

The Big Pour: Concrete and Blood

2010-03-17T22:12:00.000-07:00

No, not at the same time or in the same location. So, here's the story: last Tuesday my backyard was getting prepped to have the concrete poured in all the patio areas and the curving, sloping path around the yard. There were about 12 guys getting everything ready and waiting for the concrete truck to arrive. I had to run out to do an errand and as I was driving down Michillinda I saw it slowly approaching uphill: the massive concrete truck. Whoo! Hoo! I was excited! Here it was: the end to a gopher-tunneled, caved- in backyard lawn that was both dangerous and ugly. In its place was going to be solid level ground in specific, carefully laid out parts. I was finally going to have a REAL back yard suitable for bbq's, playdates, family gatherings and - gasp- weddings! (eventually, that is). As the girls and I watched them pour the concrete and fill in all the spots we got excited. It was incredible and amazing to watch.

The backyard had to be cleared and leveled first - back breaking work!

I'll post the finished product pictures when we're all done - well, mostly done.

      Shift to only 2 days later. Early Thursday morning I got a call from my sister Sarah; my Dad had been taken to the hospital for uncontrollable rectal bleeding. It was serious, she said. So, as soon as I could secure the girls at home, I left to go see my Dad. He was really sick and was having the 6th unit or so of what would be 22 units of blood poured into him - drip by drop, drop drop....By Saturday morning he had looked better, but the colonoscopy had showed nothing that signaled where the bleeding was. But, the bleeding had stopped so he was moved up to the med/surg ward and out of ICU. However, after leaving him later Saturday evening, I got a call as Tim and I were ordering our dinner (we were out on a date) that he was bleeding again and that it was very serious. I gulped down my dinner and left for the hospital. Shortly after I arrived, it appeared as if they couldn't get blood in my Dad fast enough. He looked so white and was so cold. After turning away to cry so that he couldn't see me, I looked back at him, held his hand and smiling asked, "Do you have peace, Dad?" He nodded. He then winked at me. My Dad - always the charmer. Several minutes earlier he had made it clear to my sister that he didn't want to be revived when he went into shock and would quickly pass away. It was imminent and we all knew it. We were asked to leave the room at that point as the nurses frantically rushed to open another IV line in him.
     After waiting about a half hour, we were told he was in surgery. What? He was too risky to operate on, but it was either that or let him die. His colleague and surgeon friend of over 35 years was determined to do the best he could for my dad. And he did. With lightning quick precision, he removed most of my Dad's colon. A surgery that would have taken 4 hours with anyone else took only 2 1/2 hours with this amazing surgeon, Dr. Shirish Patel.Miraculously, my Dad came through the surgery well. It's been several days now and the recovery has been very painful and difficult. I would so appreciate your prayers for my Dad's healing and peace.
    Incredibly, my brother flew out right away when he heard the news of my Dad's hospitalization. None of us in my family had seen him for over 6 years. There had been estrangement and tense, unresolved issues between him and my Dad in particular. After my brother arrived, none of those issues mattered anymore. Spending time with my brother has been emotional, joyful and extremely healing. God is so good. I'm asking God to do one more pour for me: that of abundant rest and strength. I am spent and weary. But God is my strength and my peace. I will definitely keep you posted.

Busy In My Backyard....

2010-03-04T21:14:00.000-08:00

I'm such a blogger drop out. It's been very busy and eventful these last couple of weeks, but I just haven't feel inspired to write about it. However, shortly I'll post pictures of our massive backyard project that is nearing completion. I've been looking at my new garden areas and getting ready to plant seedlings and get my garden up and running. I'm so excited! I've dreamed about, imagined, prayed for, talked about, and planned for this backyard for about six years. It came sooner than I was anticipating, but I'm so eager to start working on all the planting and finishing details. It will take years for it to really be all that I want it to be, but the exciting thing is that I have all these fun projects planned for it that involve Tim and the kids. So fun! Such an adventure!

I'll keep you posted.

Riveting Reading

2010-02-09T06:49:00.000-08:00

Well, I was at it again - reading fabulous and charmingly engaging books again. Let's see...where shall I start? Englebert Sneem by Mr. Daniel Postgate is one of my favorite new childrens books. It was written in a spectacular rhyming, lyrical poetic fashion and is pure pleasure to read aloud. The grand illustrations are vibrant and packed with imagination and creativity. The story line is very original and charming as well. Daisy has requested I read it to her several times. Do yourself and your precious children a favor - get this book and read it to them.

One delicious and entertaining book I finished recently was Confections of a Closet Master Baker by Gisene Bullock-Prado. What a tasty treat this book was! It was filled with tidbits of this woman's painfully unfulfilling professional life in Hollywood (she's Sandra Bullock's sister and former producer of her sister's TV and film projects)and how she and her husband broke out of the mold and started a bakery/coffee shop in Vermont. This woman's passion is baking. She even adds enticing recipes in the book! Additionally, she elaborates on her life with her German health-conscious mother and her early demise from colon cancer. How food, particularly baking, was woven into her life with her mother and grandmother is very touching. Because I've recently found success baking with yeast breads this book was particularly enjoyable. (On the downside, I won't disclose how my diet is "shaping up" now that I can make delicious cinnamon rolls, Amish friendship bread, challah hamburger buns, and honey whole wheat bread - all in my kitchen, baking, the smell of freshly baked bread....You know, I think that's what Heaven will smell like...fresh bread baking....calorie- free bread with freshly churned, calorie-free sweet cream butter...I better stop!). So, it's a great book and an easy read.

Let's see...The Perfect Nest by Catherine Friend is a really 'tweet children's book. It's a very clever story about this cat who was planning on consuming three eggs left in this nest by a Hispanic chicken, a French duck, and a Southern goose. As fate would have it, the eggs end up hatching. After all the adventures this cat has with these three baby birds he has a change of heart towards them. Really delightful and super fun with the added accents.

And then there's the more inspirational, "good for my soul" book I just finished. Fearless by Max Lucado was not disappointing in the least. I really glean much inspiration and illumination from Max Lucado's books. I've read many of them and they have brought comfort, hope, and understanding probably more than any other books except the Bible. When I saw it on the library shelf I thought, "Fearless...hum...I don't really struggle with fear too much, but his stuff is always good so I'll pick it up." After reading about 4 pages I realized how much I really do struggle with fears I wasn't even aware of. He made some profound points about Christ's fears as he was facing his crucifixion which really moved me. I never saw The Passion of the Christ, and won't, although I saw a portion of it. The movie is too graphic for me. But, Max Lucado's discussion of Christ's fears in relation to the cross was very eye-opening and insightful for me. There were other very powerful sections of the book, too. In fact, I found myself starting it over again because it was so rich and powerful the first time. That fact alone indicates a lot because I almost never re-read books. Check it out. You will be comforted, encouraged and helped by it.
Well, that's it for now. I'm on the prowl for some wonderful new books...any suggestions?

Approaching 40....

2010-01-31T21:06:00.000-08:00

     Well, in a couple of days I'm going to be forty years old. Wow...I remember my 21st birthday party. It was a surprise party put on by my family and friends. There were a lot of people there and I was totally surprised. I almost didn't show up. A friend and I went out for lunch or something and then we parted ways. I almost went to the beach to spend some time alone. My mother had died a couple of months prior and long drives to the beach were comforting somehow. I decided to go home instead. Good thing, too!
     Anyway, 19 years, a husband, a college degree, two teaching credentials, and six kids later, here I am. It's not a bad place to be. I'm not bothered to be turning forty. I'm not feeling old or depressed about it. It's just another day and another decade. My kids have been asking me to buy waffles lately. "Well..." I told them, "ask your Dad to buy me a waffle maker for my birthday."
"Really?" Tim said (this from the man known for "creative," out-of-the-box presents!)
"Yes."
"What else do you want?"
"You and the kids clean the house and then leave for the day - the whole day." Ahhh....the thought of it makes me woozy with pleasure. A quiet AND clean house...all to myself...Just don't be gone too long, I think to myself. What would I do? I'm not quite sure, but it would be something quiet.
     As the day approaches I remind myself that birthdays aren't a big deal. I don't make a big deal out of friends' and family members' birthdays. But, you need someone to talk to? I'm with you. You need some input or help with a problem? I'm with you. You need something in a pinch? I'm happy to provide it. You just need someone to laugh with? I'm there! You need someone to cry with you? Well, I'm there with you, too. I just can't always remember birthdays or to get a gift or send you a card or give you a call, etc. I don't expect you to do the same for me, either. And I love you just the same. Isn't that so much easier? Good. I'm glad we got that clarified. So, for the rest of the year consider this my heartfelt and sincere HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

Looking for the Rainbow

2010-01-19T18:25:00.000-08:00

     Yesterday I was driving to Lancaster in the pouring down rain with Leanne and Chloe in the back of the car. (Remember the last time I went to Lancaster? http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2009/11/thanksgiving-fun-sort-of.html) We were heading to Paul (Tim's stepbrother) and Angela's house to see their kids. Their kids had gotten some upsetting news the night before and since their mother is doing some rigorous training for her job all week long, I volunteered to go to their house and spend some time with the kids.
   We're on the 14 north bound and had already driven past several accidents when I see this red Subaru Forester stopped in the carpool lane facing the wrong direction. The car in front of me, a gold Lexus, was slowing down and came to a complete stop. I had to stop, too. When someone got out of the Lexus to go to the driver in the Subaru I rolled down my window and asked if I should call 911. The good samaritan indicated that the guy was in critical condition and yes, call 911. So, I'm calling 911 and watching the good samaritan take the wheel of the car and move it across all the lanes of stopped traffic to the shoulder of the road. I'm trying to explain to the 911 operator where I was and drive across traffic with cars now moving since the vehicle in question was off the road at this point. It was crazy and a little hair raising. I managed to get onto the shoulder while talking to another 911 operator. I had to get out of my car to ask the good samaritan questions in the pouring down rain. I'm having a hard time hearing the operator and then I see the sheriff pull to the side of the road. "Do I still need to be talking to 911?" The good samaritan guy indicated to me that the driver appeared to be paralyzed. "We need an amubulance!" The 911 operator continued to ask me questions and I'm trying to answer next to loud traffic buzzing by. All the while the rain is persistently pelting me and the wind is whipping around me. The good samaritan then yells to me,"You saved that guy's life!" (I really didn't.) The sheriff looks at us and says, "Somebody stay with him!" The good samaritan leaves at that point and hops into a blue jaguar that appeared to be waiting for him at the side of the road. I look at my girls in the car about 100 feet ahead and deciding that they'll be okay, I step into the victim's car.
   "Hi! I'm Laura. I'm going to pray for you." (I didn't know what else to do!) And I just earnestly asked God to bring his comfort, his ministering angels, his peace, and his protection. The young man appeared to be perfectly fine and his car wasn't dented at all. After I prayed I asked him, "What's your name?" He replied quietly, "Jesus." To which I then asked, "Are you hurt anywhere?" He shook his head weakly and said, "No, I'm just in shock and my hands don't have much feeling in them." He appeared to be shaking and I grabbed his right hand and began to massage it between my hands and then I took his left hand and did the same. After about 30 seconds of that I said, "I've got to get back to my kids, but you just talk to Jesus. He loves you and cares for you and will help you. OK?" He nodded and I exited the car quickly. I ran towards my girls who were leaning on the seat looking out the back window. "Let's go girls. Thank you so much for staying in the car."
     "I have to go to the bathroom, Mom!" Chloe informed me. So, off we went to find a bathroom and then on to Paul and Angela's. I was soaking wet and yet so grateful that God gave me such an incredible opportunity to comfort that poor young man in the car. In his moment of need he gave me the privilege of sharing God's love in a tangible way. I reflected back to last summer when another good samaritan was trying to revive my niece who had drowned while having a seizure. My stepsister, her mom, turned to me and cried out, "I don't know what to do!" At that moment I just stepped up to her, placed my hands on her shoulders and said, "We're going to pray!" (It's really the only thing I know to do in crisis moments).She told me later that she felt much better after I prayed. (My niece was revived and made a full recovery. Yeah!).It was a phenomenal blessing to cry out to God on behalf of my niece and her mother.
     When Daisy and Julia were born I felt immense fear during those deliveries in extremely different ways. What magnified the trauma was that no one comforted or reassured me when I was most afraid. (Although Tim was very helpful when Julia was being born. He almost delivered her, even though he was scared, too!) So, I felt like God gave me opportunities in these two very different situations to be a comforter to these people. I've become so keenly and painfully aware of how important that encouraging word or comforting touch is at that moment of need. I was overcome with such an intense feeling of thankfulness that God would bring about a measure of healing and redemption for me in such a way that would benefit others, too.
     The rain continued to fall as I drove under the darkened sky of storm clouds, but a dazzling rainbow of joy and peace flooded my heart and emotions. Thank you, God. You are so good and kind and faithful.

Good Reads

2010-01-13T23:00:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I finished John Piper's newest book, Spectacular Sins. When I first saw the title on his blog I was taken aback. Spectacular sins? I had never quite heard of sin being referred to as spectacular. But - it was a spectacular book on how God is glorified and his will is accomplished through the BIG SINS of biblical characters like Judas, Saul (Old Testament), and Joseph's brothers. It resonated with me because on a smaller scale I believe God accomplishes his purposes in my life and the lives of those associated with me through my failings, mistakes, and sins.I had come to this understanding awhile back and was oddly comforted by it. This book brought home that point even more. There's a lot more I could say about it, but I recommend you just read it. Awesome and inspiring!

Currently I'm reading The Wonderful Wizard of Oz because I'm leading Elena's book group for her history and literature curriculum (Starting Points). It's very engaging and enjoyable. I had never read it before. It differs, so far, greatly from the movie. I'm looking forward to finishing it so that I can compare both the book and the movie. My bet is that I'll like the book better than the movie. I want Leanne to read the book because there are many titles in that series that L. Frank Baum wrote about. Leanne loves fairy fantasy books and she'll rip through them faster than a lit match in a haystack at the end of summer. So, I prefer that she read higher quality reading material than the flimsy paperback fairy princess books.Anyway, I need to start Frankenstein soon because that's the next book on the list for Tuesday evening's discussion.

Last week I finished Randy Alcorn's almost 500 page book called Heaven. It changed me forever. He does a very detailed, thorough examination of all the scriptures regarding Heaven and the New Earth. There was so much I didn't know. It got me quite excited and imagining things I never thought of before. I'm anticipating Heaven in a brand new way, but not morbidly so. It has brought so much hope and intrigue to my imagination and thoughts about life and the afterlife. I HIGHLY recommend it.

I am an absolute lover of children's picture books. I've never really outgrown them. (No surprise there for those who know me well.) One really sweet one I just returned to the library (on time, too - I'm really getting better!)that the girls loved was I Love It When You Smile by Sam McBratney. Sam Mc Bratney wrote the adorable Guess How Much I Love You - another favorite of ours.

No book list would be complete without mentioning some of my all-time favorite children's books. One of my favorites is by Sandra Boyton, Moo Ba La La La.( I treaure so many of her books!) I can't tell you how many copies we've gone through because they've literally been read to death, and stepped on, and had milk spilled and dried on them (eww!) and so on and so forth. Daisy's favorite book when she was little, and mine, too, was Good Night Gorilla by Peggy Rathmann. That book is so humorous. I could give you quite a list of my favorite children's books and I'm always looking (at the library, of course) for new favorites.I love to give books as baby shower gifts, especially hard cover chunky books. They're great for toddlers, fit well in diaper bags and in their chubby hands, and are very helpful at restaurants when the tyke is done eating but needs some entertainment. Trust me, I've learned all the tricks!
Anyway, I'm looking around for a new fascinating and stimulating book to read (feel free to offer any suggestions!). I'm really wanting to read some marvelous biographies. A friend suggested the biography of Sara Edwards - wife of Jonathan ("Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God") Edwards. Could be quite interesting....if I could only add an extra hour (or two) to my day. I just know there'll be PLENTY of time - an eternity! - to read in Heaven.

The TV Guy is Here!

2010-01-09T18:13:00.000-08:00

     The girls had been complaining for a week that we had limited TV channels available to them. Somehow, about 30 channels disappeared. I really didn't care. I don't watch TV and try to limit my girls' TV viewing so I was actually rather happy to think I didn't have to monitor their TV time as closely. Lo and behold, Camille, my 12 year-old resourceful girl, called Roadrunner customer service to report the problem. By the time she handed the phone to me we were looking at scheduling a technician to come out to fix the problem. This Friday between 10 and 12. Alrighty then. I'll be home.
     Friday started out a little crazy. Tim had awoken late and woke me up at 5:45 am to make his breakfast. I keep meaning to get myself up at 5:30am to exercise and then prepare his breakfast, but I haven't quite gotten inspired yet. I'm still waiting for the inspiration. Anyway, I got out of bed very groggy and tired, but wanting to start Tim's breakfast and find out what Chloe and Julia were up to. They were up, too. For the next hour, after Tim had left for work, I kept thinking, I really need to lay down for a little nap. I'm sooo sleepy." Alhtough I did rest on the couch for a bit while the girls were doing their chores, I never really did sleep. I was just groggy and dragging around.
     Nonetheless, I started the girls on their school work and the morning began. A couple of minutes to 10:00 am I heard some commotion at the door and Daisy called out, "The TV Guy is here!" To which I replied while walking into the the dining room, "Daisy, you're not supposed to open the front door without me, Elena, or Camille being with you." I greeted the TV Guy. "Hello TV Guy! Come in."
     My living room was a total disaster. There were outdoor patio stools that my sister had given me a week ago and Tim felt that they should be in the living room - next to the Christmas tree that still hadn't been taken down. Of course, we had just gotten a newer refrigerator into our kitchen that we had been given earlier in the week and the parts were still here and there. What a disaster.

     At any rate, TV Guy goes to the back room to look at the TV. "Where's the remote?" he asks me.
     "Oh boy. That could be a problem. We have remote control issues. Half the time the batteries fall out or the TIVO remote gets lost. It's a cause for celebration when they finally find it jammed between the couch cushions - again." Anyway, we managed to figure out the right remote and TV Guy began to work on diagnosing the problem of the missing TV channels.
     However, just minutes before he rang I had told one of my daughter's that they wouldn't be able to attend a certain function and she was beside herself- wailing LOUDLY in the bedroom. Julia had awoken from a nap -early, of course - about 10 minutes prior to the TV Guy's arrival and had made her way into the kitchen. She was eating with her hands Daisy's unfinished peach yogurt. So TV Guy and I are looking at our TV and he's trying to explain what might be the problem when I see Julia walk in with peach yogurt slime all down the front of her outfit. Ewww...TV Guy fiddles with cables near the TV while I bring Julia to the sink to wash her hands and change her outfit. I remind Chloe to finish coloring her bear picture, instruct Daisy to keep picking up her felt pieces, and tell Leanne to get back to work on her math. Then TV Guy says, "It looks like someone played with the buttons down here and mixed up all of the channels."
     I reply, "In this house? No way! I can't believe it! Chloe, get back to your picture, Daisy finish picking up your felt pieces, Leanne get back to your school work. So - what do we do about that?" TV Guy goes to work fixing the messed up channels and I go to the kitchen to sit Julia down for a proper snack when the wailing child comes in to argue her case about wanting to go to that certain activity. "You may not go because I think it's too much activity for you. You get too overwhelmed and overstimulated and then it takes you days to recuperate."
     "But I promise, I won't do that. I'll be fine. Pleeeeease!"
     "No! I'm not going to discuss this right now."
     TV Guy walks in as I'm having this intense conversation with my daughter. "Was there another TV you wanted me to look at?" I hesitate. That TV is in my bedroom. My bedroom has boxes of books from Christmas (gifts I have to sort through and boxes of Tim's textbooks that had to be located out of the dining room for holiday parties and dinner guests.) It was a disaster. I dreaded the TV Guy seeing my bedroom. The girls mentioned that he should probably have a look at that TV, too. Just in case. I point the way to the bedroom and follow behind him. Several girls follow me and as he turns on the TV - Nickelodeon comes on, of course - my girls start jumping on the bed. "We get to watch TV! Yoo-hoo!"
     "Girls! Get off my bed! Chloe - finish your picture. Daisy - finish picking up your felt pieces and Leanne - FINISH your math!" I march them out of my room and shortly after TV Guy comes out. "It looks like everything is just fine with that TV in the bedroom. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
     "Can you take a couple of kids with you?" TV Guy smiles and says, "Oh no. I have a couple of my own."
     "Are you sure?"
     I really needed a nap later that day. I said "NO" to a play date that looked promising for the girls because I was too tired to work out the details. My bed and pillow were calling to me. Sometimes a mother's got to do what a mother's got to do. My nap felt great - although it was interrupted by the neighbor girls coming in to our house to play -even though I don't allow play dates while I'm napping. Well, my nap was shortly over. What a day! Now I'm wondering: What was TV Guy's actual name?!

Confidence in the Great Physician - Suspicion About Everyone Else!

2009-12-31T19:33:00.000-08:00

It came today. The resolution letter. (See my post "Faxing Away A Year's Worth of Tears http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2009_09_01_archive.html) I knew it would because of the conversation I had with Anthem several days ago inquiring as to whether they got my latest addendum to the grievance. One more bump along the way. There were so many bumps along the way, including the initial denial of the grievance. Lots of phone calls, yet another letter, and so much time spent on the phone. Was it worth it? I suppose so. It wasn't lost on me, however, that I got this letter on the last day of 2009. Perhaps it's symbolic of being done with the old things in the past year and starting 2010 off with a fresh, new, hopeful start. I was surprised at how I felt as I first scanned the letter. Fear. I felt a wave of fear wind my stomach up in a tight knot. Wow, I thought, this is real. All the words are in black and white. And then, "All of your concerns you shared have been investigated fully by our Quality Management Department." OK.
     At any rate, it's over. This is "closure," right? In a bittersweet way I suppose. Apparently, Anthem received the responses from the doctor and the hospital on December 24th. It now gets handed off to the legal department at Anthem and they will decide which course of action they will take with the doctor and hospital, if any, now that they have both sides of the story and all my medical records. If any formal disciplinary actions are taken against the doctor and hospital it will appear on the website of the Department of Consumer Affairs. That information is made public to inform people of any problems with licensed individuals in the State of California. The public nature of the information seems protective of consumers more than anything.
     In fact, I was looking up an obstetrician on that website awhile ago who I know was formally disciplined. Next to his name it said "Probation completed." I had heard the story about this doctor a couple of years ago. Apparently, his gross negligence - not responding to calls from the nursing staff - led to the death of a young patient. He was sent away to an exotic location (I'm not kidding) for "training" or something like that for six weeks. The hospital was put on probation for several years, the nursing staff was questioned and deposed and traumatized (again) by all the disciplinary measures taken against the hospital, massive lawsuits against everybody and their brother ensued and it was just A-W-F-U-L.
     At the park about 8 months ago I met this woman with a young baby. We got to talking about her labor and delivery. She proceeds to tell me that her delivery was quite traumatic because the baby was born in the bed and no doctor or nurse was around to assist with the delivery. The woman had an epidural so she didn't feel the baby emerge under her bed sheet. She just saw blood and then looked underneath the sheet and voila! there was her baby. Apparently, she and her husband overheard her nurse calling her doctor several times, BUT HE NEVER RESPONDED TO THE CALLS TILL IT WAS TOO LATE. You know who that doctor was? You guessed it. The doctor I described in the paragraph above. Apparently, over a decade later this doctor still hasn't changed his negligent ways.
     Want to hear something even scarier? I almost went to see him for my pregnancy with Julia. He didn't take my insurance.(Phew! Having an HMO has its unanticipated advantages I guess).On doctor ratings websites he had glowing reviews.On the Department of Consumer Affairs Medical Board website, however, he had completed probation the month I was inquiring about whether he took my insurance. I think for a small fee I could've gotten more details as to why he was put on probation. Perhaps that's what I'll recommend to women who want to choose a doctor. The ratings websites for doctors are limited. The Medical Board has way too few reports of "bad" conduct by doctors. However, with that one doctor in particular had that woman checked him out perhaps she would have chosen a different doctor. Her delivery probably wouldn't have been so scary. Who knows?
     Don't get me wrong. I'm NOT anti-doctor. My dad and father-in-law are both doctors. Both men have cared for thousands of patients over the years with compassion and integrity. My mom and stepmom were labor and delivery nurses. They, too, cared for many women with kindness and competence. I have utmost respect and admiration for medical professionals, including my younger sister who's been an ICU nurse for over 17 years. One of my close friends is a new med/surg oncology nurse. They both tell me their stories. I'm amazed they can do what they do shift after shift.
     Perhaps one motivation for my grievance came from all the hardworking and caring medical people in my family. It's appropriate to keep the medical profession at its best. Sometimes doctors and nurses need help when they've lost the vision they had at the beginning of medical/nursing school, the memory of when they took the Hippocratic Oath - "First, do no harm"- or when they're having a bad day, week, year...Perhaps disciplinary measures really help most of those doctors and nurses to take stock, reevaluate, make changes. But then there are always those doctors who never really learn. My prayer and voice to others is to do thorough research, ask around, PRAY if you have any concerns about a health care provider.
     Who really knows? I return to my steadfast belief that God is sovereign "over the affairs of men." And he's watchful. Scripture describes him as the Great Physician. How comforting and revealing that that would be one of the names of God. When I found out several days after Julia was born that my whole church prayed that my delivery would go well just 2 hours before Julia was born, I started crying and shook at relief that God really came through for me. What would have happened had they not prayed? But they did. Thank you Lord Jesus.I've been pondering the fact that all things in our lives are meant to point to the glory of Jesus Christ. My prayer and hope about this grievance I filed was that somehow that would happen. Who knows? God does. I can remind myself of that - again. And choose the title of this post as I have really come to experience things. May God be glorified!

My Christmas Miracle

2009-12-19T14:08:00.000-08:00

This was the first of 31 shots we took. Amazing!

I love this picture

Our silly bunch!

Held Captive in the Dentist's Chair

2009-12-16T13:51:00.000-08:00

     Been to see your dentist lately? Ever thought about the fact that we're held captive as we're reclining in that fabulous vinyl, hydraulically -operated chair with the little plastic-lined drool pad attached to us with little clips around our neck? Let's not forget the bright light shining in our face as the dentist skillfully utilizes each and every little sharp-pointed, stainless steel tool (does she have to use ALL of them?!) and of course, the water drill. Bzzzzz! Bzzzz! Are you feeling the water spraying sensations and loud drill sounds in your ear right now? Sorry, don't mean to bring back bad memories. Anyway, yesterday's appointment was a little more "captivating" than usual.
     My dentist, thankfully, is very sweet. She relishes talking about recipes and food. I'm quite grateful, too, because she will frequently offer yogurt or lychee fruit to my kids if she hears them say, "I'm hungry!" And, of course, they're ALWAYS hungry at the dentist's office (Pavlov, anyone?). Additionally, I got my favorite and frequently requested b-b-q pork recipe from her. Anyway, needless to say, I always leave there hungry.
     She also has six kids and fourteen grandchildren. In fact, there's a playroom in her office with toys her kids played with (think "vintage toys") and a small tv that plays videos. It's great for me and my kids when we're all getting our teeth cleaned. We go religiously every 6 months and I usually break it up between two visits because, as you'll see, it's better not to bring my littler ones if I can avoid it. Because she is the only one that cleans our teeth (her dental hygienist - the lovely Viola - only takes x-rays and flosses our teeth at the end), and she takes her time (she's very thorough! Ouch!), the wait to see her can be quite long. In fact, when Tim has his appointment he frequently falls asleep in the chair. His snoring can be heard throughout the whole office! Anyway, the playroom has served us quite well throughout the years.
     So, it was my turn to have my teeth cleaned and Daisy, Chloe, and Elena were with me. All of them had already had their dental needs taken care of. So, I'm sitting in the chair and Daisy walks in and says that she wants to watch. Uhh...ok..."Don't touch anything!" She settles herself into a stool that is quite a bit higher than my reclining chair and looks down into my mouth. "What's all that stuff in yo' mouf?! Is the denist cleaning yo teef? I can see all yo teef! What are all dees buttons fo?" Bla, blah, blah.As she's asking all these questions, her little face is close to mine and spit from her mouth is falling onto my bottom lip and into my mouth. Eww...gross! All I can say is: "Ugh-Day-ee-do tu duh bu!" The dentist nicely says, "Oh, Daisy, don't touch the buttons." And then Dr. W takes the tools out of my mouth and I tell Daisy quite firmly, "Get Elena for me!"
     As the dentist goes back to work ever so determined to rid my mouth of plaque, Chloe comes in and sits on the stool previously occupied by Daisy. Dr. W is called out of the room and Chloe says to me, "What's this button?" She proceeds to press it and my chair immediately moves to an upright sitting position. Shazam! "Uh, that's what it's for, Chloe. Where is Elena?!" Elena walks in. "Please take them for a walk around the block, or something, anything!" Apparently, they had tired of the playroom and there were no intriguing videos that they hadn't already watched before. Elena responds, "They never listen to me!" Ugh...I plead with her to try again and I can't remember whether I threatened or bribed Daisy and Chloe. Dr W came back to persist in her torture, I mean, finished cleaning my teeth and I was blessedly on my way.

I had planned on being the first one to have my teeth cleaned so that the toy room would hold their interest till I was done. It didn't work out that way...this time, that is. Next time, things will be different!

Gift Giving Tim-Style

2009-12-10T16:26:00.000-08:00

Perhaps you got an idea of what my darling husband is like by his culinary, uh, efforts, in the kitchen. Wait till you hear about the gifts he's lavished on me over the years!

I got to thinking about Tim's gift giving style after we came back from Target 2 Saturday's ago. As the Christmas season began I thought about how much I love buying gifts and do all the gift buying (you'll soon realize why), but that Tim is kind of left out of the whole thing.He's never minded, but I didn't want to be selfish. So, we're at Target on Saturday evening after a dinner date and I point out a couple of things I had in mind for the girls. He responds:

"I can get that at a yard sale!"

"Tim!" I say rather shocked at the idea of going to yard sales for Christmas presents. It's actually not a bad idea, and Tim has really scored at yard sales in the past. It just didn't sound right to me.

We head down the Wii game aisle. "I know the girls have been wanting this one for sure," I announce, pointing to the exact game Camille had mentioned a week earlier.

"Are you sure they won't be on sale after Christmas?"

"No, they won't. Come on Tim. What fun is Christmas morning if the girls have to go shopping the next day? That's weird!"
We leave the store sans Christmas gifts for the girls. Tim related to me this week that he "really needed to start hitting the yard sales."

"Knock yourself out," I tell him.

Our first Christmas together Tim got me a lovely piece of lingerie. I looked at the size and said, "This is too small for me." He replies, "Maybe you could lose weight so that you could fit into it." Um, wrong thing to say to your new wife of three months. And then there was our 3rd anniversary 2 weeks after our firstborn child was born. I was eight days overdue and pushed for over two hours getting that huge baby out. At Beckham Place in Pasadena several weeks later Tim's anniversary gift for me was a 3 inch square mirrored magnet with a white lamb imprinted on it that said, "I love ewe."

"A magnet?!" I said to him.

"Well you told me to stop buying you flowers because it was too expensive." Um...that's not quite what I meant.

And then there was my birthday this year. I found a box of blonde hair color in his top drawer while putting his t-shirts away. I start laughing and take it to him. "Do you have plans for this?"

"It's for your birthday. I had a coupon for it."

"But it's such a bright blonde color."

"You're blonde."

"I was blonde when I was five!"

Interestingly enough, my responses have changed from, uh, "not good," to laughter. I think my husband's odd sense of gift giving is funny. It makes me laugh because I no longer take it personally. That someone could think way he does is amusing to me. I usually now give him a list of specific things I want from him, complete with detailed descriptions, price, and aisle number. Or, the girls help him with what they know I like. Sometimes, I just buy myself a present and tell him what he got me. "Oh, great!" he says, relieved because he knows I'm not going to return it like so many gifts in years past, and he's not going to get the silent treatment or a tantrum from me anymore.But laughter and making fun of him - oh yeah!

Dieting During Christmas

2009-12-08T10:21:00.000-08:00

Crazy, huh? Starting a new diet on December 1st? Think about it. It's the perfect time to start a new diet. (This has nothing to do with Tim's unappetizing cooking, either. He isn't really allowed near the stove with a pan.) I give myself Saturday as a "free day" because I can bear the deprivation and salads and fruit and nonfat yogurt and counting calories knowing that on Saturday I can go to Bean Town and blissfully consume an orange chocolate chip scone. On Saturday nights Tim and I go out on a hot date (well, maybe not too hot - it is colder these days...)and I usually pick at what he orders (hopefully something with fries!) while enjoying endless refills of Diet Coke. It's heavenly. Not only do I have some alone time with my handsome husband and some meaningful adult conversation, we usually go to some tasty place. We love Island's, Claim Jumper, Cheesecake Factory, the new Stonefire Grill, and of, course, the Corner Bakery. With my family we usually try different dim sum restaurants and Thai food. We both love Indian Cuisine and I've been wanting to try a Brazilian b-b-q place, Chiarrascurro, one of these days. Anyway, so Saturdays are my "fun food" day.
Dieting has been a strange experience for me throughout my life. I've always been a little overweight with periods of thinness or heaviness depending on the season. My three approaches to dieting have been: 1) consuming 1,600 calories a day and getting plenty of fruits, vegetables, lean dairy products and limited refined sugar, 2) eating whatever I have a desire for but only when I'm really hungry and eating only till I'm satisfied, and 3) Weight Watchers and counting "points." I've tried all three approaches several times and sometimes I've been successful and sometimes I haven't been. One amazing thing I discovered with the "eat anything I want, but only very small portions" is that I lost 18 pounds in three months, ate cake for breakfast (I really think Costco has the best tasting cakes for the money!) and I didn't exercise at all. I loved that diet and was able to keep it up somewhat when I was pregnant with Leanne. Then exhaustion, not feeling well, and being distracted made it harder for me to keep up with that approach.

     With all three methods I never could tell why one was successful or not because they all worked at various times. So I've been praying about this issue for a long time and asking God to help me. I really resist trendy, "bandwagon" approaches to dieting. God knows my body, my weaknesses, and what I need. So, it came to me to keep a food diary everyday, except Saturday of course, and be faithful to it just until my 40th birthday in February. I'll re-evaluate at that point. I do feel like my ability to stick with this plan (I'm on week 2 and I've been very disciplined) is ONLY the grace of God. I cannot muster the will power or desire on my own. It has to be a work of his spirit in my heart and mind.
     What has been discouraging and shocking (still) has been how high my weight has gotten up to. I can trace back how that happened. It was in the fall of 2005 and I had just found out I was pregnant with Daisy. My pregnancy came about sooner that I had planned and I was a bit shocked. Add to that the novelty of cable television and Food Network. Then add Giada DeLaurentiis and her fabulous, scrumptious tv show "Everyday Italian." I watched that show religiously and tried many of her recipes. I love her cooking. I liken it to "food pornography," however, and no longer watch her show. I just can't resist trying her recipes, so I abstain from even turning her show on. (Plus, she needs to cover up her chest! She really flaunts her boobs sometimes and it irritates me!) I gained a whopping 60 pounds during my pregnancy with Daisy. No wonder she was over 9 1/2 pounds! All my other pregnancies I had usually gained between 32 and 40 pounds. So, I'm still fighting to lose those extra 20 plus pounds. Before I got pregnant with Julia I had lost some weight and managed to keep my weight gain to only 35 pounds. I lost all that weight, but have gone up and down about 10 pounds since.
     I'm not motivated by vanity much or what other people think. My cholesterol is slightly elevated, though, and that's not healthy. I want to be a good example to my daughters by eating nutritious foods and being self-controlled. I also want to look closer to the way I looked when my husband married me. It doesn't seem fair to him that I've gained 40 pounds since our wedding (he's made it clear that it bothers him - I don't blame him). And, I don't want to use food to try to comfort or entertain myself. That's a bad habit. And, I'm not comfortable with how my clothes fit, look, or how I feel.So, my dependence on God continues.Hopefully I'll report that by my 40th birthday I've lost some weight and will continue to lose all the rest that I need to. I'll have to pray especially during Christmas and birthday parties this month when I see all the Christmas cookies, fudge, cakes, chocolate, savory, cheesy appetizers and on and on and on. One strategy that seems helpful is to suck on a Hershey's kiss. They're only 25 calories each! That seems to help with my chocolate craving. Now if I can only stick to just one or two, well maybe three...Oh, Lord, help me!

Frosted Flake Chicken A La Tim

2009-12-05T18:15:00.000-08:00

Yum!Yum! Good eats! Frosted Flake Chicken A La Tim

Need a new recipe for the holidays? Want to try a little something new and, uh, unusual? Have I got a recipe for you! Here it is:
Ingredients:
1 "adventurous" and hungry husband
2 packages of skinless, boneless and defrosting chicken thighs that were a really, really good deal and waiting to be tried in a new tasty Apricot Chicken recipe later that week
1 cup of crushed Frosted Flakes
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup flour
1 glass baking dish that is ungreased so that you have to spend an inordinate amount of time getting the chicken unstuck from it after you throw out the hard, crusty, vomit-looking inedible coating from it
Directions:
Step 1: Go to Ikea with Daisy at around 5:00 pm on a Saturday evening and leave no provisions for dinner; no leftovers and nothing already prepared.
Step 2: Don't call home with any practical, LOGICAL suggestions for dinner or suggest picking something up while en route home from said shopping trip.
Step 3: Make sure that Elena and Camille are at their friends' house so that they don't make Top Ramen or macaroni and cheese. You know, palatable dinner food.
That's it. Really simple. Bon appetit!

(As a side note ladies: please don't be jealous of what a creative cook my husband is, ok?)

Thanksgiving Fun-Sort of

2009-11-29T14:14:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was fun this year - kind of. We had a small crowd, Tim and our six girls, and my sister Ann and her boyfriend, David. Later, Holly and her girls, Madeline and Olivia, came by and visited for awhile. The food was tasty, nothing burned (too badly, that is), and everyone was in a pleasant mood.

And then...later at around 3:00 a.m. I hear Julia coughing and crying in her crib. I went to check on her and -ugh-she had barfed orange, pumpkin pie vomit all over herself and her crib. So, I proceed to clean her up and put new sheets on her bed. Thankfully, Tim helped me. So, I lay back in bed weary and tired from having cooked 90% of our Thanksgiving meal all by myself (a first for me and I was pleased with how everything turned out, mostly). I heard it again - coughing and crying and when I checked on Julia again she had thrown up more pumpkin vomit. Ewww...So, I decided to lay with her on my chest on the couch and try to catch her vomit with a chucks pad wrapped around her chest. (Those are the greatest things. I happened to have an extra large one from when Julia was a newborn. They're great at catching nasty, oozing diapers. Because they're soft cotton-like material on one side and plastic-lined on the other, they're great to use and then throw out. They reminded me of when I had Julia. They were used to catch all the "fluid" after my water was broken. They're used in hospitals a lot).
     Anyway, my sweet Julia was trying so hard to get comfortable so that she could fall asleep. I finally put her in her bed with make-shift clean bedding and went to bed myself. She seemed fine throughout the day so I thought nothing of her throwing up. However, later that night after I lay her down, she woke up again crying. I put her pacifier back in her mouth and all was well. When I got her up in the morning I was grossed out and felt terrible that she had actually thrown up and I didn't see it. It was a lot less than the night before so I thought that maybe I was giving her too rich of foods. But I began to feel a bit queasy and so did Leanne. I had plans to see Paul and Angela and their 7 kids - the girls' cousins-out in Lancaster that day. What to do? I left Leanne at home and proceeded with my plans. I am rarely sick and thought I was ok. After a couple of hours at Paul and Angela's house it was time to go.
     So here's the scenario: I'm driving home on the 5 Freeway southbound and I'm looking at my extra large 1/2 full Diet Coke cup from McDonald's thinking I should empty it out because I might need it. I was feeling quite queasy at this point. I throw it out and keep driving. About 10 minutes later as I'm driving 80mph ( I know - I was speeding again. I was so trying to get home quickly because I was feeling worse and worse) and trying to get on to the 210 East in heavy traffic because I forgot that I like going home on the 134 East instead, I grab my McDonald's extra large cup and - well - I don't need to be graphic because I'm sure you can figure out what happened. A couple more uses of the blessed extra large cup and I was feeling much better - but not totally. I arrive home and rush out of my car, stopping near my garden area to relieve my revived nausea, and then I head indoors and lay down for hours feeling achy, nauseous, and continuing to throw up. Leanne apparently had been throwing up for hours and was now moaning at wanting something to drink because she was so thirsty. There are few things worse than telling your severely dehydrated child who is screaming out and moaning in pain that she can't have anything to drink because it will continue her vomiting. Oh...ugh...And poor Tim was having a hard time with all the sickness, his desire to study his physics, and my need for him to step into my shoes. Oh, and by the way, "please go out at 10:00 pm to get some Drano because the sink is clogged again and we REALLY need it." Sigh. Groan. And then about an hour later he starts throwing up - violently and with great moans and groans. It was then Camille's turn to get sick - all over her bed and her floor. Leanne - at 1:00 a.m. was complaining of leg pain. Leg pain?! " Do you feel like throwing up?" "No. But this one leg hurts so badly." "Umm...I don't really know what to tell you, honey. It looks ok. Sleep on your other side."
     Several hours later and some solid sleep, I woke up feeling capable of cleaning up all the messes, running to the grocery store for popsicles, 7-up, jello, and bagels (for me), and getting my house somewhat back in order.
     I was so thankful that I got home safely. I so hope that I didn't get any of the Dybdahl kids sick. I'll call Angela later and find out. With lots of hand sanitizer, fervent prayers, and partial quarantining, I'm hoping Elena, Chloe, and Daisy don't get sick (oh please God-spare me!) So, on to Christmas we go. I love the holiday season and so does Tim. I think this will be a great Christmas season if we could just get well and stay that way. I'll keep you posted.

The Sounds of...Nothing

2009-11-20T14:26:00.000-08:00

A couple of mornings ago I awoke on my own at 5 am. I listened for a couple of seconds and then I heard...

Nothing

Ahhh...the sounds of quiet. You might think that because I'm quite a talker and rather loud (it's a Hollcraft trait -we're all LOUD!), that I must like a lot of noise. No. I love quiet and solitude. Perhaps it's because I get so little of it. But at 5 am it was so quiet - no traffic sounds in my neighborhood or yard equipment whirring and buzzing, no dishwasher or washing machine shaking and rattling, no sprinklers twinkling water around, and mostly, no people noises. Not even Tim softly snoring, breathing loudly, or mumbling about chemistry assignments (Tim really never leaves his work entirely at school!).

It was glorious. I thought about this period of silence I was enjoying. I began to think about people who had needs that I knew of and prayed for them. I told God that I was all His today and that He could use me in anyway He wanted. I knew that would invariably mean lots of dishes, laundry, multiple directions to many little children about various chores, many encouragements to "be kind," "stop fighting," "leave her alone!," correcting - verbally and otherwise-undesirable attitudes, unpleasant deeds, and general disobedience, lots of phone calls to check off items on my "to do" list, various trips to church for co-op lessons and teaching my Spanish class, picking up many little toys that find their way into crevices and nooks ALL AROUND my house, preparing a multitude of snacks and meals, reading plenty of stories, books, and instructions about school assignments, giving tickles, hugs, kisses and gentle pats and rubs to just about everybody (including Tim - he's not overly affectionate but I know he doesn't like being left out!), cleaning up more spills than I care to count, and shopping at various stores for fabulous deals and returning various items that weren't such fabulous deals, praying here and there for people and situations that come to mind, and perhaps catching in about 15-20 minutes of the book I'm currently reading about the Holy Spirit by Chuck Swindoll (SO inspiring!), and on and on and on. Nothing glamorous. Just my attempt at being faithful to God and my husband and children.

I have so much activity and NOISE in my day, everyday, all day long. I felt that God awoke me early, and refreshed I might add, just to draw me near to himself and enjoy my attention. God doesn't need my attention, but He's worthy of it. He deserves the very best part of my day - my waking moments that I savor before the day begins. I found that I started my morning quite joyful and the day went fairly well. At the end of my day as I lay in bed relaxing and letting the days' events float away, I thought about my Friend again. "You are so good God. Thank you." And with that, I drifted off to a solid nights' sleep again. I'm confident that more likely than not, God did use me as He saw fit. I felt His pleasure at a day lived well. I need to make adjustments, particularly to correcting my children gently and patiently, but overall I felt peace as I drifted off to sleep.

I have a great life.

I'm A Bad Driver

2009-11-04T11:31:00.000-08:00

Well, at least I can admit it! I got a speeding ticket about two weeks ago. I was in a rush to get home in the morning to start school with the girls. When the officer pulled me over I said, "I know I was speeding. I need to be home in three minutes. Can you make this quick?" Four minutes later, I was on my way heading east on Sierra Madre Blvd. towards Michillinda to go home.Ugh. I still haven't gotten the official ticket to know how much it's going to cost. It'll be expensive. I haven't told Tim yet. Another ugh.
     My biggest problem is that I drive too fast. My neighbor told me several months ago to slow down because of all the kids that play in our street. He was right. I'm trying, but sometimes I forget. While driving home on Grandview St., a lady stopped at a stop sign motioned for me to slow down. She was right, too. All these admonishments are warnings for me to slow down. I feel rather embarrassed when I'm corrected because I know they're all right. And the speeding tickets are so expensive. I won't even blog about Tim's thoughts and words regarding my driving. Think: ULTIMATE BACK-SEAT DRIVER TO THE OUTERMOST EXTREME LIMITS OF TOLERABILITY. I NEVER EVER EVER drive while Tim is in the car. I have actually stopped the car in the middle of the street so that Tim can take over driving.
     Anyway, it's just sooooo hard to drive slowly. Not only do I have lots and lots of things to do everyday, I usually have several kids at home that I'm rushing home to make sure that they haven't set the house on fire, clogged the toilet to overflowing with toilet paper, let Julia wander out into the street like she has a persistent propensity to do, or pull each others hair out over the last Tootsie Roll they happened upon under the refrigerator from last Halloween's candy supply. Uh-huh. You get the picture.
     Another problem about speeding plagues me: I'm just a fast-moving, energetic, hyper-speed kind of person. I really can't help it. When I'm fairly well-rested, there's no stopping me! I talk fast (and a lot, I know), write fast, do the dishes fast, cook and clean quickly, read fast, even change diapers fast. (That's a good thing, too, because, boy, does Julia squawk when she's being changed!) Also, I write so fast that I have a hard time handwriting anything because my hand can't neatly and legibly keep up with my thoughts. This quality of mine generally serves me well, though, except while driving.
     In truth, however, I used to drive my parents nuts. Whenever they saw me eat sugar in particular, they would look at each other and roll their eyes. They knew I would be particularly spastic for several hours after the dreaded consumption of sugar. So, when I observe my busiest girl, Chloe, in all her hyperactive glory, I know that she will be able to accomplish great things in the future with all of her energy. Sometimes she almost drives me into the ground, though! I realize where her energy comes from. (Throat-clearing here)

One disadvantage to this high energy personality that I have is that I can easily overwhelm people. Think: calm, even-keeled, mild-mannered, and just really low-energy people find me either 1)overwhelming and anxiety-producing, 2)entertaining, so they laugh at me! or 3)I don't quite know-but they avoid me in grocery stores, parks, libraries...Well, not really. I just thought that they might and I just haven't really noticed it. (Six kids keeps me very distracted while out in public much of the time.) When I meet people who are overwhelmed by my personality I feel very self-conscious. I find myself trying to talk s-l-o-w-e-r and be less emotive. This is almost excruciating, but I try for their sake and mine. I can really feel like an idiot around these calm people. So, I LOVE people who are like me. I love high energy, fun-loving, hearty- laughing, fast-talking people! LOVE THEM! They understand me! They appreciate me! I don't have to be "self-monitoring" around them and they don't have to be that way around me! Yoo hoo! Of course, I have many mild-mannered friends that I absolutely adore, too. You know who you are.
The other problem I have with driving and speed is that I, well, I - ok- this is really hard to admit. I tailgate! I know it's terrible! I'm just driving too fast, needing to get somewhere ON TIME (because that's usually important to me), and other people just drive too slow! Really people, just a little faster?! Oh, but there are my bad, impatient habits coming out. I've also been know to utter a few -unsavory- (I like that term better) names at drivers. The worst part is that my children hear me and that's really not good. Really, really not good.So, it's imperative that I work on my driving habits. Consider this post an open invitation to ask me if I've been keeping my driving speed down. Just don't ask me when I'm rushing out the door on my way to somewhere important. Old habits die hard. Ugh.

Librarians Who Can't Sing

2009-10-28T10:13:00.000-07:00

With this title you may be wondering, Huh? Librarians don't sing! They check my books out, help me find books, tell me how much my overdue fines are, tell my kids to stop running around the library while screaming and jumping on furniture- Oh, wait, those are my kids, not yours. So, anyway, just to clarify, as part of their official job description, librarians DO NOT sing to the library patrons. Unless...they're doing kiddie story time! Ah hah! you think. This makes sense now! Laura has a bazillion kids and she probably takes them to library story time because it's free childcare for a blessed 25 minutes or so while she aimlessly wanders the library aisles looking for exciting, informative, engaging reading material.

Well...yes and no. I do take them to Pajama Story time at the sweet, little adorable Hastings Branch Library. (Although, I have been accosted by a nose-hating, strange woman there before. See my post last year "I Bet You Cry About Your Nose" http://halfdozengirls.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-bet-you-cry-about-your-nose.html). I typically get Daisy and Chloe settled on their cute little bright blue or orange cushions and the librarian (who happens to have five kids - and he's young looking! Cute kids, too, and a nice wife. I really am very chatty, aren't I?) starts singing the ultimate, song-to-end-all-kids-songs "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands! Clap! Clap! If you're happy and you know it..." (Is the tune starting in your head now? I bet you'll start humming it in about 3 seconds!)

The only problem that I have with this fabulous little song is that...the librarian really can't sing well - at all. He does try, but he cuts the notes short and is rather flat-sounding. Now, I'm no singing expert, but Tim is. Tim grew up in a singing family. In fact, their Sunday morning worship had no instruments, only singing - acapella, they call it. There's no lyin' when it's acapella! How your voice sounds is rather apparent to everyone around you. So, Tim will pick apart a singer and tell me why they're good or not and use all this official sounding musical lingo. I'm always impressed by his expert analysis, but hear myself saying, "Well, they sound OK to me..." So, for me to notice that someone's singing doesn't knock my socks off is something. But, the librarian singer is sweet and earnest and the kids don't care. They just sing along blissfully unaware of the marginal musical talent they're being exposed to. So, should I care? No, I really don't. Besides, I'm sure his own kids adore his singing and his smart wife just tells him how wonderful he is, so who am I to tear the beautiful, idyllic picture apart with my unprofessional criticism? (OK, so I'm a bit melodramatic and overly imaginative, but it's my blog and I can write whatever I want to).

However, there was one story time at my second favorite library in the admirable Pasadena Public Library System that actually had me thoroughly IRRITATED! The L---- V---- Branch (this is to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent) is a little library in this gorgeous neighborhood in the north R--- B--- area. They have the best toys in their children's department. I can look for books in the kids section while my girls (and an occasional tag along friend or two) play and everybody has a delightful time. So, a year ago I took Daisy and then baby Julia to story time there one morning. The librarian was very charming, but couldn't sing to save her life. She totally slaughtered the song. I was almost traumatized by it. And the little kiddos singing along with her weren't loud enough to drown her cacophony out. At all. It's possible I was quite postpartum, hormonal or whatever, but I found myself really bugged by how badly she mangled the children's songs. I decided to NEVER frequent THAT story time again. Would a whole generation of R--- B--- area residents and their children and nannies (oops! I let that one slip!) be forever turned off by story time and the required songs of childhood because this one well-intentioned librarian couldn't carry a tune? Would they be ruined in some way by the wretched sounds choking their way out of her mouth? Maybe she should've sung "If you can't sing and you shouldn't try shut your mouth (clap! clap!). If you can't sing and you shouldn't try shut your mouth (clap! clap!)..." OK, so I'm sort of mean.

(Check this out, library lady!)

Come to think of it, almost all the librarians that I've taken my kids to library story time to see have been marginal singers. But none was worse than the L---- V---- lady. Poor thing, maybe she doesn't know how bad she is. Then again, the library is a publically funded place, not some professional Broadway theater. And I really do love my local libraries and all the phenomenal and patient librarians who have helped me and my kids and taken hundreds of dollars of mine in overdue library fines over the years (yes, it's probably at least $200 by this time. Please don't tell Tim).Anyway, I'm just in a punchy mood these days. I'm probably overdue for a relaxing, refreshing day off . But not at the library during story time.

Dear Mom

2009-10-15T21:03:00.000-07:00

   Since you left 19 years ago, you know I haven't talked to you or written to you directly much. It's kind of creepy to me in some ways. I really believe that you're in Heaven with Jesus and my little babies (perhaps my boys!) that never made it into the world. I just feel more comfortable talking to God as opposed to you. I was thinking, though, that the anniversary of your death is in a couple of weeks and I wanted to write you this letter. So much has changed with me since you were last here. I'm sure you know that, though.

I was 20 when you died, a young woman. I'm now almost 40 - a middle-aged woman with a husband and six daughters. Can you imagine that? I remember you once saying to me, "I hope you have 10 girls just like you!" Well, I got 60% of the way there! But they're not all like me. Elena, my oldest, resembles me in some ways. She's very serious and studious, kind of like I was. She's also very hardworking (when she wants to be) and is generally reliable and helpful. She has a dry and very funny sense of humor, but tends to keep her emotions to herself (definitely NOT like me, but like her Dad). I'm very proud of her and I really like her. She's a great girl and beautiful, too. I'm really going to have to fight the boys off. I'm sure they're already afraid of me! Good!

Camille is next in line. She has my coloring, but her Dad's features. She's intensely sensitive and artistic. She has a very tender heart towards the outcasts, the hurting, the weirdos, and other alternative types. She is definitely like me in that regard. Remember Arthur in my 6th grade class? The chubby boy from Poland who needed a friend? I reached out to him and helped him get comfortable at school. Camille would be my girl who do that. She gravitates toward the Arthur's of the world. She's also very dramatic and theatrical like I was. Remember when I was the lead in the Christmas play? I was Lady Huntington in The Twelve Days of Christmas play and I was ALL DRAMA. Camille has a very intelligent, keen sense of humor, too. She is so funny. The drama gets a bit old at times with her, but then we just tease it out of her. She's a sweetheart.
Lulu, Leanne, comes next. She had the softest, sweetest skin when she was a baby. And the cheeks on that kid! They hung down over her face! She was absolutely adorable. She's my friend magnet.She's got this gushy, easygoing personality and she just melds with other kids and gets along with everybody (although not always her sisters, but that's another story.) She looks and acts just like her Dad. She appears to be very absent-minded and placid. Remember Steve Bruno down the street, who would "wear" his cat, Tippy, while reading a book as his mother hounded him to get ready for school in the morning? That's kind of like Leanne. She is very smart and loves science and reading. She's a sharp cookie and an earnest learner. That is definitely like me. She's a delightful girl.

And then came Chloe. I chose her name because "Chloe" was one of your favorite perfumes when I was growing up. I still remember seeing it on your gray and white marble vanity in your bathroom. The smell would linger in the air after you sprayed it on before leaving for work at night as a labor and delivery nurse.OK - so, I'll just repeat what Dad smilingly has said for years about Chloe, "Payback is great!" She is me at my most intense, driven, determined, temperamental, hysterical at times and downright difficult. And yet she has this zest for excitement and people and life that is infectious and contagious. She's very clever, charming, and downright naughty at times. She's also busy, industrious, and very task-oriented.Yep - she's very much my daughter. She even has my blues eyes and coloring. I love her dearly.

Daisy is #5 - my Spring flower. I love her name. She was named after your favorite flower. I still remember as a young teenager walking up to Fair Oaks and going to the florist that was there and buying you a bouquet of daisies. You were very touched when I brought them home. So, Daisy is my pixie-faced cutie. She is very articulate and sassy. She's also a real people lover and very friendly once she warms up to people. She loves clothes and has the craziest outfits on at times. She's my girliest girl and very fun. I adore her.

Julia is my last girl. She's the baby of the family and she's precious. She thinks I'm just the greatest! She's so happy to see me when I've been gone awhile and I can always calm her down like no one else can. That's what a mother does, huh? I remember the morning I was leaving for school as a teenager and I was upset and crying for some reason. You pulled into the driveway because you had finished the night shift in labor and delivery at Huntington. You saw me crying and were so compassionate towards me. I think I came back inside and you made me lunch for the day or fixed my hair or something like that. I know you were really tired because you had just worked for about 10 hours, but you still took time to care for me. Thank you.
     Right before each of my babies was born, I always missed you the most. Those few weeks before my due dates were the most painful reminders of your absence in my life. I knew how much you loved helping women have babies (even the screamers and the druggies) and you took great pride in caring for them and reassuring them. I know you were a popular nurse at work, not only with the patients, but with your co-workers as well. Oddly enough, I didn't miss you so much right before Julia was born. I was so happy to be pregnant with her, my last one I knew. I so enjoyed those last few weeks. But of all my deliveries, I most needed you with her. After she was born I grieved terribly the lost moments that I so desired with you while laboring and delivering my babies. I imagined you lifting my back and helping me get up to walk, giving me guidance on different labor positions, having you check the FHR and reassuring me, and just loving every minute of helping me. I remember you sitting down with my friend Dawn who was pregnant with her first baby several months before you died. You had a pregnancy book and you showed her pictures, educated her about what she could expect, and addressed her concerns. I know she cherished your care. I was so jealous of her when I thought back to that time. No one did that for me. But, I did have Dr. Aldahl for several of my pregnancies and she looked like you and had your bubbly personality. She was so perfect for me. But she left her practice prematurely. I didn't fare so well with my male OB's. Oh well. I'm all done with that season of my life and I'm relieved. Now I get to help my daughters when their time comes. Hopefully not too soon!

And then there's Tim. He's an old lady magnet. That is, the old ladies just love him! He's got this sweet smile and boyish charm and they eat him up! He is very handsome and he loves our girls. He's very well-educated, hardworking, and intellectual. I love that about him. He's a bit of a dreamer and lives in his own world at times. I let him. Teaching 200 students a day who aren't that motivated and who come from impoverished backgrounds really takes its toll. I try to make life for him easy, relatively peaceful, and fun. I'm not always successful, but I try. I love him and am devoted to him.

Dad has done well. Karen is so good to him. She has patience, charm, and smarts about how to soothe the savage beast in him. I so admire her. She's had so many trials in her life and yet she's always thinking of others and serving them. She's so devoted to her kids and grandkids. My children adore her. We are so fortunate to have her. She's encouraged me so many times and in so many ways with all my kids and being a mother. I know God especially placed her in my life during this time period. I also love that she knew me from when I was born. She has memories about me and you that Dad doesn't even have. That shared history is unique. It helps to fill in the missing pieces.

   Ann, Sarah, and Michael are all on their own journey. I'm close with Sarah and Ann. Michael, well, I'm sure you know about him. I'm believing that God will find him and help him. Well, anyway, I'm just about done with my letter. I think you'd be proud of me. I've made lots of mistakes and made decisions I wished I hadn't, but, I'm content with my life. God has been so good to me. I can't wait to see you again. Laura

Hiccups Cure

2009-10-06T12:08:00.000-07:00

This morning at 7:45 am Chloe and I were in my bedroom folding the clothes on my bed. We had an exchange that went something like this:
Chloe: "Mom, I have the hiccups."
Me: "You do? I have a remedy for that."
Chloe: "Really?"
Me "Yes. I've been trained and certified in getting rid of hiccups in children. You want me to try my remedy on you? (Earnest nod from Chloe.)All right, well payment will be due when services are rendered. You know, the payment is a big hug and a smoochie kiss.Can you pay that? (Another vigorous nod from Chloe). Come here then."
Chloe walks over to where I'm standing. I bend down and put my arm behind her knees and another arm around her waist and turn her upside down. I begin to shake her up and down while gently pressing on her tummy with one hand and pressing my fingers into her ribs with my other hand. She starts laughing and squirming.
Me:"You can't laugh! No laughing! The cure won't work! Stop laughing!" The giggles and hearty laughter continue from my little squirmy six year old and then I put her down. "Did it work?"
Chloe: "Yeah" (big toothy smile and giggles).
Me: "Good! You know, I was at the top of my class. You need to pay me now." Chloe turns to me and I give her a big hug and a kiss and I'm laughing at our silly exchange and the hiccups cure that worked. I looked at the clock then and realized that she would have been at school at the moment she was getting the hiccups treatment from her highly qualified AND certified Mom. Would there have been anyone at school with my qualifications? I don't think so. Those qualifications come from the heart.
Ahh...the joys of motherhood and homeschooling.

Random Things and Fall is Here!

2009-10-04T09:20:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday morning and I'm at my computer looking over old blog posts. I'm dressed for church and really want to go, but Julia has been sick and is napping right now. I wanted to take her to church and at least enjoy worship - even if it means chasing her around the back of the church. I can't bear the thought of waking her up, though. I was up with her for about an hour and a half last night. She seems to have left ear pain and I fear it's an ear infection. I'm going to have to get her into the ENT this week if she doesn't seem better. She's been up A LOT this week. Many nights I've gone to her 4 or 5 times to try and settle her. I think what's making things worse is that she doesn't always get her antihistamine at night like she should. If I go out at night Tim might forget it or I forget to give it to her. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering everything I should. Oh well.

This week I'm starting the "Felicity" book series for Leanne's history curriculum. My girls love the American Girl books and dolls. They can really break the bank, but they are very high quality products. I love using historical fiction as a tool to teach history. So, this week we'll delve into early American Colonial history with Felicity. Leanne and I are both looking forward to it.

Yesterday I got a tearful call from someone close to me. Her birth control method had failed and she was pregnant. Oops! She's been cramping and bleeding for weeks and was worried about all that that could mean. I quickly arranged childcare and went to the hospital to be with her. It appears to be an ectopic pregnancy. She seems to be doing well when I spoke with her this morning. She commented that she was amazed at how well she slept in the hospital. I told that as I was up with Julia she came to mind and I was praying that very thing for her: Help her to sleep well, Lord. I know how everything hurts so much more when you're exhausted.(One of the most challenging things about Julia's birth was that when I delivered her I had been awake, and very active, for over 30 hours. I was totally exhausted and depleted. Sleep is soooo important!) When I hung up with her this morning she was still waiting for her ob/gyn's partner to come into the hospital and talk with her about what was going to happen next. I heard her asking other people at the hospital, "Have you heard anything about Dr. So and So? My regular doctor is on vacation, so I have to see Dr. So and So. What have you heard?" I could so relate to her concerns and wanting to be reassured that she was in good hands. I've been there. She was told that Dr. So and So is very good. I'm hoping and praying this is her experience. I'm sure everything will go fine with her. Pregnancy loss, even an unexpected one, is always laden with emotions. I will continue to pray for her.

The weather is turning fall-ish. I LOVE fall weather almost as much as spring weather. I love cool, slightly overcast, windy fall days. LOVE THEM! However, fall tends to be a harder time for me emotionally. My emotions seem much more sensitive and I struggle with feeling "normal" and upbeat much more in September, October, and November. I have a couple of theories about this. Throughout my life fall contained some events associated with difficult losses. My Mom was very ill and died in mid-November. Also, we came back from Mammoth every summer and had to leave carefree, idyllic summer days behind and start school. There's also less light in the fall and I'm light-sensitive. I seem affected by dark days with a corresponding "darker" mood. Anyway, at least I'm aware of these things now. This fall seems a little better, though.

I'm going to enjoy a quiet house now, take my church outfit off, and maybe take a nap.