COWAlley

The Whole Truth

2010-11-17T14:01:00.003-05:00

When a forward appears in an inbox, it rarely has an author. Some Joe Schmo is sitting at his computer, spouting off nonsense based on something he heard some dude saying at the other pump while he was at the 7-Eleven. He mixes that with something he heard from his crazy Uncle Bubba, and some news story he half-listened to while he had a conversation with his wife about the bills. He's not brave or stupid enough to sign it. And now half of the nation is devouring every word. Not only are they soaking up his half-baked ideas, they are clicking the forward button and sending these ideas off to everyone they've ever known.

Gossip sent by email or Facebook is just as evil as the gossip that comes right from your lips. But the fact is that most people hit the forward or post button and don't think twice about it. They don't care if it's accurate. It doesn't even cross their mind that they are creating an exponential increase in the spread of lies. They "don't have time" to research anything. Even if research just means going to Snopes and typing two words in the search box. Here's a quote from one of the researchers at Snopes:

"For a good many people, it's not important whether things are true or not. It reflects what people want to believe. It reflects a worldview. It's their way of passing along things that concern them. Things they're afraid of. Like it could be, 'I don't care if Richard Nixon really did this. It sounds like something he would have done.' A lot of people are unwilling to acknowledge anything that contradicts their worldview. So telling them it's false doesn't necessarily slow them down. That's how urban legends get started for the most case."

I've gotta get off my soapbox. I have dirty dishes to wash.

Chicago--A Pictorial Review

2010-10-28T23:59:00.007-04:00

Outdoor sushi. Yummy. Will being irritated that I am taking his picture while eating, making us look like crazy tourists.

Me, at the planetarium, looking like a total dork using the "Lunar Gravity Simulator." I have not personally been to the moon, but I imagine that this is not remotely similar.

Poor statue lady, getting shot in the face all day long by streams of water.

Proof that aliens have indeed landed.

The first of eight attempts to take a self portrait. The others were awful. Particularly the one where I decided to close my eyes until right before Will took the picture. I look like an alien.
This is the photo we texted Owen, just to let him know that we were still alive, even if Daddy was going to come home headless.
This photo does not do justice to the enormity of this fountain. I wanted to frolick in it. Since no one else was frolicking, I decided that was probably a bad idea.

October Adventures

2010-10-16T22:32:00.006-04:00

The first week of October was exceptional. Princeton defines exceptional as "Far beyond what is usual in magnitude or degree." I'd say that fits.

On October 1st, during quiet time, Owen filled a gallon-sized ziploc with water and carried it to his room--about four times. I'm not sure what the plan was. I think he was trying to create something. A moat? An island? A water park? Praise the Lord for the rubber-backed rug that was resting under his drowning block creation.

On October 4th, I was sitting quietly at my kitchen desk, writing. It was nap/quiet time. Owen appeared beside me. I did not speak to or look at him (because it's quiet time and I try to avoid giving him attention when he's supposed to be in his room). Finally he said quietly and with a note of trepidation, "Mom, look at me." All I could do was stare. He had given himself a haircut. A very BAD haircut:When I asked him what he had done, he handed me this:

We were about to leave for swim lessons, so there was nothing I could do. As soon as his swim instructor saw him, she laughed. She suggested I put some gel in his hair and get him in an emo band. By this time, every glance in his direction made me want to giggle. His daddy didn't quite see the humor in the situation when he got up from sleeping off his night shift. We immediately left for a family trip to Great Clips, where the stylist very seriously explained to Owen that in the future, he will need a license to cut hair.

October 5th: tree removal. The kids were both mesmerized by the equipment, workers, and noise. Here they are, literally hanging out of the window.

October 6th: camping in the backyard. I love camping. I love the night sounds, the cool weather that makes you snuggle down into your sleeping bag, the campfire. Since camping with a 20 month old is not the easiest thing in the world, we decidied to make use of our very own piece of the great outdoors. Charlotte went to sleep as usual in her crib, the monitor went in the kitchen window, and we sat by the lake, roasting marshmallows. Owen held the flashlight under his chin and told "scary" stories. He and Daddy spent the night soaking up the camping goodness, while I went back in to make sure the baby didn't burn down the house. I can't wait until she's old enough to come join in the fun.

October 7th: Dixie Classic Fair. Petting zoo. Pig races. Demolition derby (where Owen and Will got sprayed with dirt--does it get more awesome than that?). Fried candy bar. Cotton candy. Ferris wheel. I think I may start a countdown for next year.

Proof of Life

2010-10-16T22:13:00.002-04:00

September was not lost. I did indeed manage to capture a few moments on camera. We had quite a few gorgeous days, one of which compelled me to drive to Bojangles and gather impromptu picnic provisions. What says a picnic like fried chicken? Charlotte can be seen here scavenging for bag fries:
Another fun activity: making a wooden car with your dad. Will is really interested in woodworking right now. And I adore watching him involve his little boy in that new hobby.
And here is the activity that consumed many, many hours of our month: Owen is now an incredibly capable swimmer for a four-year old. And so proud of himself. Driving 30 minutes every day for six weeks sounds insane, but it was absolutely worth it. Too bad Charlotte didn't love it quite as much as he did. This was the face that she made every single day:

This face was usually followed by the pitiful, Why Are You Torturing Me? cry. However, she now floats like a champ. I have no doubt that if she were to accidentally fall in the lake, she would pop up like a tiny, screaming rubber ducky.

Busy, Busy, Busy

2010-09-23T21:36:00.002-04:00

It's September, and I have not a single blog post or photograph to my name. What on earth am I going to put on my "2010 in Review" Calendar for the month of September? Tomorrow, the camera must be dug out from the pile of papers on the desk and used to prove that we did indeed exist during the month of September.

School has started, church activities are in full swing, the kids' six week (daily) swimming lessons are nearing their end, and hopefully we are finding a rhythm. Charlotte is not at all sure about wandering the house without her brother from 9 to 12 each morning. She prefers being out and about, as long as no one tries to talk to her. How is it possible to have two children with entirely different social dispositions? Since he has been able to sit in an upright position, Owen has been entertaining everyone who crosses his path. Charlotte, however, hides her head on my shoulder, in my side, the crook of my knee. But take the people away and out comes the personality--squeezing her nose to try to make snorting sounds, puckering her lips for kisses from her daddy, laughing hysterically at her brother, calling everything "silly." I almost want to store video proof on my phone, just to show people that she is not all solemn eyes and serious face.

Owen is loving school. He is convinced he is the world's greatest swimmer. And cannot get over his excitement at having a boy his exact age living right next door. He would ask his new friend to move in if we would let him. And of course he is still producing quotable moments by the bucketful:

Me: I'm going to go put in my contacts and then we'll leave for school.
Owen (after a pause): Then you won't look so weird with your glasses on.
Me: I don't look weird with my glasses on!
Owen: Well, I think you do.
Me: I like my glasses!
Owen (apologetic smile + shoulder shrug): Okay.

On a totally different note, if you find a Leapfrog globe at a consignment or yard sale and have any children, please buy it. We got one for Owen and I put new batteries in two days ago. You point the attached pen at any spot and it tells you the name (plus the population, area, music, etc if you are so inclined). He has been randomly pointing at places for a couple of days, off and on. I was pretty sure he was absorbing absolutely no info from it, until today. We were in front of a building today that had an outline of Mexico (with a man's face and body attached) drawn on a window. Owen looked at it and declared, "That man's made out of Mexico." Holy canoli! That was the best $8 I ever spent.

Summer Fun

2010-08-24T09:32:00.003-04:00

Our best friends from Norfolk visited a week ago. If I could make them move to North Carolina, believe me, I would. We had such a great time. If you are interested in the details of our fun weekend, she's already taken care of that for me here. But I believe the picture above won't be found there, and I just love the image of these two being hatched.

I found Charlotte in the den playing the other day, fireman hat perched upon her head. How can you not run for the camera? She's even color-coordinated.

Not only is Charlotte a capable firefighter, but she also takes home safety very seriously. Protection goggles aren't just for Bob the Builder anymore. Consider getting some for your children too. Forks are sharp.

And last but not least, the picture with a real story. Those spots on Owen's nose are not blueberry juice or dirt or stray boogers. No, those are battle wounds. I knocked him down. The weather has been really manageable over the last couple of days and we decided to take advantage of it after dinner on Friday. We put the kids in the paddle boat and floated off. We talked to the neighbors who were out in their boat, watched some turtles, looked for fish. It was great. Until it was time to get out of the boat. Charlotte and I got out first. Since I was having to run after Miss Look at Me I Can Walk Now, I didn't grab the rope to tie the boat down. Will finally got the boat back to the dock, and Owen pulled his upper body out, but decided it would be a fun time to just hang out there for a bit. The boat started slowly floating away, and Will began firmly telling Owen to get out. He did not oblige. In my desire to keep two eyes on the baby, I decided that I would make quick work of the situation and grab Owen's legs, assuming he would sort of wheelbarrow himself fully onto the dock. But no. That's not what he did. He face-planted into the wood decking. I felt awful.

The next day, he asked me somewhat out of the blue if I ever make mistakes. My answer: "Of course I do, everyone makes mistakes." His reply: "You mean like yesterday, when you and daddy made me fall and hurt my face."

Independence

2010-08-11T22:54:00.003-04:00

First, a pictorial update:

Will's new favorite activity
Charlotte's new favorite activity--she's about to stand (and is even walking a little now!)

Owen's new favorite activity

So many little stories...I keep thinking, "Must right them down." And then I get caught up in the grocery shopping, kitchen cleaning, butt wiping business. Better late than never.

We've been in our new house for a little over a month now, and that seems to have ushered in a new sense of independence for Owen. For about a year or so, Owen has been able to tell time. Not down to the minute, but the boy knows his hour hand. He had to learn because he wanted to get up far too early for my taste. I decided 7:00 am was reasonable, so that's the time I taught him, "Big hand at the top, little hand at the 7." For many months that meant that little feet slapping up the stairs of our old house were my morning alarm. Several months ago, he learned how to operate the tivo. He is allowed to watch two tv shows in the morning. That bought me another hour. Fantastic.

Upon moving here, however, he decided that he could do far more than turn on a few tv shows. He could make breakfast. A few weeks ago I came downstairs to the sight of a cherubic face covered in fruit juices. The half pint of blueberries...empty, container laid waste upon the floor of the den. A half dozen strawberries...gone. A dozen gigantic cherries...missing, save for the tell-tale pits lurking at the bottom of the cup that Owen had poised upon his protruding paunch. Virtually every piece of fruit in our refrigerator was consumed. That night I locked the fridge. The next morning I went downstairs, feeling smug. My son was not deterred. This time he examined the pantry for his breakfast options. And what did he find? A box of Cheezits and some raisins. Thankfully, he has not learned to operate the stove, otherwise he may have made himself a pan of brownies. We then started pulling the pantry tightly shut (it sticks, he can't open it). After a week or so we decided he had forgotten about his breakfast making skills, so we stopped locking away the food.

That was all well and good until a few days ago. The first thing I saw upon walking into the kitchen was THREE open containers of yogurt, lined up neatly at the edge of the counter. I peer down into them, realizing that they are all half empty...odd. I walk into the den and find Owen sitting on the couch with a cup full of yogurt and a very tiny straw. He looks up and says, "Look! I made Rainbow Yogurt!" I am surprised that he had not popped blood vessels in his eyes trying to suck yogurt through a tiny, swirly straw. I could do nothing but laugh and give him a spoon.

Unfortunately his free-wheeling days of independence will come to an end in a few weeks. Preschool will put an end to Mommy sleeping until 8:15. There's always Saturday.

Strawberry Picking

2010-06-19T21:37:00.004-04:00

I know, I know, strawberry picking season ended already. And these pictures are indeed two months old, but now that I'm feeling blog-motivated, I wanted to break out these photos that never made it on. Of course the battle of picking with the two little ones was two-fold: Charlotte only wanted to pick the tiny green ones and Owen wanted to eat everything he picked. We did manage to take home plenty, most of which are already long gone.

Beautiful Things

2010-06-15T14:50:00.003-04:00

I've been planning on posting a picture of this chair for weeks, but it just kept getting pushed to the bottom of the to-do list. Since I have about ten million boxes to pack in the next two weeks, maybe I should have pushed it to the bottom of today's list too, but I just couldn't resist. I'm so proud of my handy husband. He made this. I think it's gorgeous.
This is the picture that actually motivated me to post today. I was on the verge of tears (hypothetically speaking) watching her happily use her fork to put pieces of strawberry in her mouth. She also ate some green beans and a chicken nugget. Many of you may be reading this and thinking, "Who cares, my kids eat that stuff too." But for Charlotte, this is a BIG deal. We have a long way to go when it comes to meal time, but this is such a huge step in the right direction.

While Charlotte was busy slowly eating her lunch, Owen occupied himself in the dining room with his craft box. Now that he understands what, "Don't touch anything with your fingerpaint-covered hands" means, letting him create with paints is such a great way to spend a hot summer afternoon.

And my last beautiful thing...watching my children enjoy books. I love books. I have loved books my whole life. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in my great-grandparents' house looking at my books. I can almost smell the library that I used to go to as a kid. I can still remember the feeling of excitement at going into a bookstore, trying to decide what book or two I was going to buy with my meager savings. And now I get to watch my kids fall in love with books too.

The Burglar

2010-06-06T07:50:00.000-04:00

Owen and I were having a fabulous time pretending. We were riding an elevator that let us out on various themed floors. There was the one full of beads, the one filled with water, and the one with the ice cream machine. Unfortunately, on the last floor, there also lurked a burglar. He was in the bathroom. I did not become aware of his presence until Owen declared, "Oh no, there's a burglar." He promptly ran into the bathroom and made an "umph" sound. I knew that this was the sound of a burglar being tackled by a four year old. Herein lies a sticky situation. We have tried to teach Owen that fighting and hitting are not the answer to life's frustrations. However, were he to come across a real-life burglar in his bathroom, I would not particularly want him to try to explain to the burglar that it makes him sad when his house is robbed and his privacy is violated. This seems to be a more complicated conversation than I need to have with my four year old, so I decide to remain silent and expressionless over the attack on the burglar. Owen, on the other hand, rarely chooses the silent route. He marches back into the living room, looks at me with great self-assurance and declares, "There was a sign beside him that said you could knock him down."

Hawaii

2010-06-03T23:10:00.002-04:00

The post you've been waiting for, the one that makes you hate us for going to Hawaii instead of sending you. Two weeks ago Will and I went for our ten year anniversary, and it was absolutely wonderful. So instead of waxing poetic, I'm just going to post pictures.

Day 1: Settled in. Rented snorkel gear. Walked around Waikiki. Toured Pearl Harbor. This is Will right before he stole the submarine:

Day 2: Toured the North Shore (in a convertible). Side note: God does answer small prayers like, "Gee, it sure would be nice if they'd let us have one of those shiny little convertibles instead of the crappy economy car we're paying for."
Byodo Temple with the Ko'olau Mountain Range in the background:
Laie Point: Waimea Valley Audobon Center and the fabulous waterfall that you can swim under. That's me getting slammed by the falling water:

Day 3: Hiked to Manoa Falls. Like walking through another universe. Ferns as big as my house. Crazy vines wrapping around towering trees. Stunning. Later that day I got my Mother's Day massage. Sorry, no photos.

Day 4: Scenic drive on Tantalus Road. The lookout near the top was amazing. This is the view of Diamond Head crater: Spent the rest of the day at the Polynesian Cultural Center. The luau was made complete by a giant pit cooked pig. Mmmmm. Here we are with very full bellies:

Day 5: Snorkeling at Lanikai Beach. Followed by kayaking off Kailua Beach to Flat Island.

Day 6: Hiked to the top of Diamond Head. The view from the top is beautiful. I didn't really know the water could be so many different shades of blue:

A Jumble of Thoughts

2010-04-18T21:19:00.003-04:00

No, I have not given up on my blog. I'm still here. And I have lots of little things to say:

1. We are buying a house. As of today, we are officially under contract to buy a wonderful house in Lewisville, North Carolina. I am controlling my urge to mentally decorate.

2. Charlotte is my sweet baby girl, she is almost weined, and I might have to throw myself a dairy party. This is particularly relevant since I managed to eat something dairirific during the past few days and had a diaper-rashed, screaming little ball of fun on my hands for a few hours this evening.

3. Owen is hilarious. I have told this story several times during the past two weeks, so please forgive me, Will, for having to hear it again. I just need to write it down so I don't forget. We were headed into Roly Poly for lunch one day. There was a sign at the door that showed a man holding a briefcase with a big circle and a slash through it. Underneath it read, "No Soliciting." Owen asked what the sign meant, so I explained, "It means you can't sell anything here." We then went inside, the family sat by the door, and I went up to the counter to order. Soon thereafter, a man entered. He was just a regular guy, no briefcase. However, Owen immediatly looked at him and firmly stated, "You can't sell stuff here."

4. Jesus was not a card-carrying member of your political party. Please, please, please stop acting like he was. Intelligent, devout, loving people can be found on both the Republican and Democratic sides of the fence. Love God, love others. That's it. If you put your focus on those things, I'm pretty sure you'll have less time to spout off hateful rhetoric.

Risk Assessment

2010-03-16T22:20:00.002-04:00

Here's a post I actually started back in January:

In high school I rode a Sky Coaster. It's one of those ridiculously tall bungee/swing things. I thought it was fabulous.

After my freshman year of college I spent the summer in Santa Cruz. I went spelunking while there. Shimmied through holes deep in the ground that you couldn't fit your whole body through unless you were flat on your belly, arms straight in front of you. Fantastic. Probably fairly stupid, but one of the most exhilerating things I've done.

And now I'm scared of skiing. I've been on five different ski trips, sometimes skiing multiple days during those trips, and still the thought of strapping two boards on my feet and heading down a mountain makes me nauseous. Seriously, I'm feeling a little queasy even as I type this. Maybe it's because I'm older and my sense of mortality has kicked in (a friend told me that your brain doesn't develop that far until you are in your twenties), or because I have children and don't want to fly head first into a chairlift pylon and leave them with a vegetable for a mother, or because I'm just a weanie now. Despite my trepidation, I will continue to go on these trips. One, because I love my husband. Two, because I do enjoy myself after I make it down the mountain a few times. Three, because I am determined to get better and stop being a weanie. For example, I want to learn to stop screaming "Aughh!! Aughh!! Watch out!! Watch out!!" whenever I am careening out of control down a tough stretch. Better yet, I want to learn to stop careening out of control. In the mean time, here are some pictures to remind me that being in the snow is indeed wonderful.

Scores of Posts

2010-03-12T23:11:00.002-05:00

In my head I've written at least twenty posts during the past few months. Unfortunately, I'm often holding a paint brush, giving a bath, making dinner, driving to the grocery. Tough to get down my thoughts in those moments. I'm thinking of hiring a secretary to follow me around all day and jot down my words. Or maybe I could just put the secretary to work, freeing my hands for typing. Hmm. Anyways, I "wrote" posts on skiing, Charlotte's birthday, politics, Valentine's day, sushi, racism, Charlotte's latest doctor adventures, Owen's sweet words, and unending home improvements, just to name a few. So now I'm trying to decide if I should actually write any of these thoughts down, or just leave them floating around my brain. Right now, all I know is that I can barely keep my eyes open. Goodnight.

Pickles

2010-02-26T22:36:00.002-05:00

Owen declared last week that he wanted a pickle. We reminded him that we have pickles at home. To which he replied, "No, I want a long pickle." A few days ago I happened upon a giant display at the grocery store for the long dill pickles. Fast forward to this evening. I have just placed one of said pickles on Owen's plate. He looks up at me with a look of wonder. "It's a long pickle!" Yup. "It looks just like the ones at Jason's Deli!" Yup. Owen takes a huge bite. "It tastes the same!!" I wish I could be so excited about the little things.

On a related note, Owen pooped in the potty yesterday. As I was helping him with the wiping/hand washing, he looked into the potty and stated, "It looks like a pickle." This statement was repeated to Will when he got home later and Owen clarified, "A brown pickle."

All Christians Aren't Crazy

2010-01-15T11:03:00.008-05:00

Couldn't resist posting this link. However, I cannot make the link work. So please copy and paste.

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/life/current-events/op-ed-blog/19845-don-miller-responds-to-pat-robertson

Dreams

2010-01-10T14:56:00.005-05:00

A few nights ago I dreamed that there was a global disaster. (I watched Knowing a few weeks ago and apparently it infiltrated my subconscious.) In the midst of water surging over the earth, I lost my family. As it subsided, I ran around yelling frantically for them. Someone pointed to a crying baby on the ground, telling me that it was Charlotte. She was far too small, but it was a dream, and natural disasters that shrink babies are not out of the ordinary I suppose. But I wanted to know for sure that it was her, so I searched the little body for signs. There was a giant white scar down her chest, but there were three (instead of two) chest tube scars, so I was desperate to find some other identifying characteristic. Not once did I think to look at her hands. Isn't that odd? I suppose that my subconscious doesn't care too much about Charlotte's missing thumbs. Of course there are days when I worry too much about what's ahead. Will she be made fun of by other kids? Will her surgery be successful? What challenges will she face with less strength and dexterity in her hands? But I try to pray when those moments arise, trust in God, know that His plan for her is better than mine. Curiously, I didn't wake up freaked out about my imaginary natural disaster, but encouraged about my daughter and the road ahead.

On a similar note, I had a terrible dream last night. Someone was trying to kill me. I used to have these dreams all the time, until a friend pointed out that maybe I should try praying about it and stop watching scary crap on tv. So I did. And, for the most part, the dreams stopped. Last night I watched a crime show on tv. Why? Why on earth did I go against my better judgment? Because I forget the lessons that I have learned. Because I'm human and fallible and often do things I know I shouldn't. As a result I am chased around by scary girls who moved in across the street, accidentally run into giant spider webs while trying to get away, and wake up tense, holding my breath, on the verge of screaming. Note to self, do not watch crime dramas any more.

Making a Promise

2010-01-10T13:53:00.002-05:00

I found a yellowed, rodent-nibbled piece of paper, folded and rolled into a little scroll, in our small attic closet this week.

I Bruce B. Holland do promise to quit smoking or give up (Waunita?) as of 4:00 P.M. Sunday September 12, 1954.
(signed) Bruce B. Holland

I googled Bruce B. Holland. He's a pretty famous dude. CEO of Holland Construction. Earns an 8 digit salary. Contributes to various campaigns. Top 100 contractors. Only 60 years old though. He would've been five or six. Pretty sure he wasn't making a pact to give up smoking. Or even writing in cursive for that matter. And I'm not sure who or what the word that looks like Waunita is. But I am so darn curious.

I wonder if he was successful? I have my doubts. Not because I'm cynical (which I sometimes am), but because it was an "or" statement. He wanted to leave himself some options, which probably means he wasn't serious about quitting either.

I've been trying to stop picking at my fingernails. I told God a few years ago that I was going to stop. I thought if I told Him, then surely I would follow through. I didn't. It's amazing the effort that it takes to stop a bad habit. So I'm going big now. If you see me looking at, messing with, or chewing on my fingers, stop me. I might not like you very much in that moment, because I hate being told what to do, but I need a village. I know, I know. Just pray about it more, God will give you the willpower. But I believe that God doesn't want everyone to sit around, staring at the sky, waiting on Him to supernaturally take away their problems. He tells us to be wise, to make choices. So I choose to not write my plan on a piece of paper that no one else will ever see, but post it for the world to read.

I Christy Alley promise to quit abusing my fingers as of 2:30 p.m. Sunday January 10, 2010.

Retail Antitherapy

2010-01-07T21:50:00.002-05:00

You know how they say that some people use shopping as therapy? I've heard that for some, pleasure centers in the brain are triggered when they buy stuff. I think that I have the opposite of that. Instead, my displeasure center gets stimulated.

For example, I decided that this year I would use some of my Christmas money to buy a pair of boots. From the beginning, I could see these boots in my mind...tall, black, 2 1/2 or 3" skinny heel, real leather, straight (not slouchy), little to no bling. Real leather was necessary because I am a shoe killer. As in, I wear my shoes for years. Just ask my sister who is very tired of the brown loafers I've been wearing since '97. My two pairs of fake leather boots all lived very short lives, no good. So off I went on my boot search. DSW, JCPenney, Bass, Nine West Outlet. I bought a pair at Nine West that I knew I shouldn't--they were 4". I wore them around the house for 30 minutes, then took them back the same day. TJ Maxx, DSW (a different one), The Shoe Dept, Dillards, Macys, Sears--nothing. Nordstroms, Bakers, Nine West, Rockport, Dillards (a different one). I fell in love with a pair at Dillards that didn't fit. I bought an acceptable pair at Nine West, came home, and called five different Dillards in search of the boot I really wanted. Ordered it over the phone. Now waiting five business days to try it on and return the other pair. This is absurd. But I can't throw down more than ten bucks without feeling 100% confident that I'm getting exactly what I want and that I'm going to get significant use out of it. Am I crazy? Don't answer that. If I were not the crazy money pincher that I am, I would have bought these:

Only $500. And not real snake skin, in case you're wondering. The sales lady said that if they were, they would be "much more expensive(!)"

Ending with a Bang

2009-12-30T22:48:00.003-05:00

I should be asleep. But instead I thought I would share a little piece of the Alley pie with you. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Charlotte has been sick for about two weeks now, and I was on the verge of losing my mind today. But the second half of the day was fabulous. Something about the trip to the grocery store must have awakened Charlotte's desire to be chipper, because I don't think she did the "I'm going to cry and force you to hold me even though I'm not tired, hungry, dirty, or in desire of companionship" thing after 12:30 pm. Yay!!! Or maybe it was the desperate prayer that I sent to the Lord this morning. Probably that.

We also have an extra companion in our home to add to our excitement. A rat. Yep. Gotta love it. Actually, he hasn't presented himself since we got back home from visiting family, so maybe he decided six is a crowd. But he certainly had a great time while we were gone. Pooped all over our bedroom. Ate a hole in my sheets. Peed on my kitchen counter. You know that last post where I said I hate cleaning? Nothing like a little rat urine to bring out a girl's desire to scrub the crap out of her kitchen (pun intended). I knew that our area has had some trouble with roof rats, but this is the first time one of them has found a way in. I have two very sticky professional traps in my bedroom that dare one of them to do some more exploring. Is it wrong to wish death upon them? I think not. I'm tired of sleeping on the pull-out in the living room.

On a happier note, Charlotte clapped today. And Owen showed off his skipping skills at the library. Fun times.

Complaints and Confessions

2009-12-14T19:41:00.005-05:00

Will was talking to a friend the other day and told him that I only tell the happy stories on the blog. So I'm proving him wrong, today I'm going to share my messier side.

It irritates me when people ask questions of my ten month old instead of directing them to me..."How old are you?" "What's your name?" I'm very tempted to reply with, "I'm sorry, she hasn't learned to talk yet." This also applies to people who criticize my parenting choices through statements to my child. If you're a mom, you know what I'm talking about. "I bet your little feet are cold aren't they sweetie, too bad you don't have any shoes on." "I'd give you some ice cream, but you're mommy won't let me."

I detest cleaning. My family has clean clothes to wear. I make sure they have breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But my floors haven't been mopped in 10 months. I dust the furniture on a biannual schedule. And the bathroom toilet MIGHT get cleaned once a month. I keep pretending that this is going to change about me. That I'm going to come across some fantastic plan that will work for me. But I'm thinking about accepting myself just as I am. Of the four people in my house, I'm the only one who judges myself for this. I'm sure there are those who have been to my house and passed their own judgment, but really, who cares. If they love me, they will get over it. I'm tired of being disappointed in myself.

I am a hypocrite. I can present a fantastic argument for why we should all be doing more to care for the poor, then go out and eat lunch at Qdoba that I could have foregone for a sandwich at home. I can rail on about the latent racism and classism in the church today, while busy judging the crap out of the people who are commiting said sins.

If you invite me to a shower, don't ask me to bring food as well as a gift. If you don't have the money or time or space to throw a shower by yourself, ask a person or two to help you. But please, don't ask fifteen different women to give of their time, food, and gift budget.

And if I leave you a message on your phone...call me back. I'm becoming a fan of texting (I know, hard to believe since I just got a cell phone a year ago), but I should not have to text you to get you to communicate with me. Speaking of which, it is rude to text someone in the middle of a conversation. It is rude to make other people wait while you finish your conversation in the grocery check-out line. It is rude to cut me off on Granby Street because you are talking on your cell phone! Stop being rude.

I think I'm done now. Merry Christmas!

My Heart is Full

2009-12-11T15:06:00.002-05:00

Someone asked me how I was doing today. And I am great. I think joyful might be a better word. Fantastic and superb sound too melodramatic. Wonderful sounds too cheesy. The reason...everything I suppose. I love Christmas. Will has a decent schedule right now. We know where we're going to be moving in seven months. We get to visit our families soon. My friends are amazing. Owen warms my heart and makes me laugh. Yesterday contained the perfect example of both:

I made Owen pancakes for breakfast. Usually I just throw frozen ones into the microwave, but we were out, so I actually MADE pancakes. About ten minutes or so after he finished eating, Owen stopped playing and said in the most heartfelt manner, "Mom, thanks for making me pancakes." If people would only understand how effective I sincere "thank you" is, they might find themselves inundated with pancakes. Later in the morning I was pulling out of our driveway and headed slowly down our street. About ten houses away, a van was also pulling into the road. With great feeling, Owen declared from the back seat, "Mom, there's a van in the road, supply the brakes!"

Charlotte is learning something new every day it seems. She learned how to wave yesterday. She had been throwing out the random wave, but yesterday she really figured it out. I think she discovered the Christmas tree this afternoon. It's been up for two weeks, but today she finally decided to scoot over and touch it. I put her in my lap so she could reach the branches, lights and ornaments. She tentatively touched everything, awed by the prickliness, the brightness, the dangling egg ornament. With a huge smile on her face, she waved at the Christmas tree. Too bad it couldn't wave back.

Voices

2009-11-16T21:14:00.002-05:00

When I was a teenager I dreamed of becoming an actress. Playing the role of the murderer in our high school Moustrap production lit a spark in me that I never had the resources or drive to fan into flame. But part of that aspiration still lingers and shows itself when I'm alone in the house, reading to my children. Tonight it was The Princess and the Pea. For those of you who don't know (because you have a had a traumatic brain injury which left you without memories from your own childhood), the story revolves around a queen in search of a "real princess" for her son. In my mind, this queen is British and haughty, so that's the way her words come out of my mouth. This evening Charlotte, Owen and I were all in the floor of his room. She was preoccupied with a toy while Owen was listening to the story. Every single time I spoke in the voice of the queen, Charlotte would stop chewing on the toy and laugh. Not just giggle, but truly and deeply laugh. This would make me laugh, which would make Owen laugh, and before long I didn't know if I was going to be able to make it through the book. These are the moments that overwhelm me and fill me with joy. I'll take mom over actress most any day, but particularly today.

Pea pods

2009-11-08T21:17:00.004-05:00

Today is Will's birthday. In light of that fact, I would like to get some memories down on paper, so to speak, that I don't want to forget.

During the spring of my freshman year I had a crush on a guy named Robbie. He signed up to take Shakespeare in the fall, which I needed for my major, so I decided that would be a perfect time for me to take it as well. This was a bit short-sited of me, seeing as how my crush had dissipated by the time fall semester rolled around, and I was left watching him gush his ooey-gooeyness all over his new girlfriend every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Thankfully, Will (who I met my freshman year but did not know very well) was also signed up for Shakespeare, and on the first day of glass I gratefully took the seat in front of him.

I'm sure there was some flirtatious chatter going on during Shakespeare, but I can't remember any specifics. I do recall the tentative twirls of my long hair from the seat behind me. And the time he rode with me to The Sign of the Fish (a Christian book store in the next town over). During a pause in conversation on the ride home I made a request that I had tried on another guy (who failed miserably), "Tell me something." Will immediately launched into a description of his love for Stewart's Cream Soda, which he overindulged earlier in college, so he was now drinking Orange 'n Cream Soda instead. My heart fluttered. You see, the failure of the other dude was his response of, "What do you mean??"

Another moment which makes me smile occurred during our first date. We had eaten at Ham's and were heading back to the car. Will walked to my side and opened my door. I was beaming inside. However, somewhere along the way, my friends and I had joked about dating etiquette, and one thing mentioned was that a guy should always walk around the front of the car. Will did not do this (I'm pretty sure we were parked too close to the wall or car in front of us for him to go that way). So when he got in I dryly joked, "They say you shouldn't trust a guy who walks around the back of the car." He immediately replied, "They say a girl doesn't like you if she doesn't unlock your door from the inside." We are two peas in a pod. And I suppose we have been from the beginning.

Argh

2009-11-01T22:36:00.004-05:00

I just uploaded a ton of birthday and Halloween pictures, and most of them need some work--red eyes, bad lighting. However, I knew if I waited until editing was complete before posting anything, it might be a month from now, and I'd just feel too lame to post my old pictures. So here you go.

Seaweed

2009-10-08T21:57:00.004-04:00

Thursday was beautiful. Low 70s, sunny, nice breeze. I had a meal planned for dinner, but a picnic on the beach just sounded so much better. By "picnic" I mean we picked up something at Arby's and took a blanket to sit on. We had such a great time. But I believe Owen had the most fun. He stayed busy building shelters for the seaweed. By "shelters" I mean holes that he could throw seaweed into and then cover them up with more sand. My first inclination was to tell him to put down the gross slimy seaweed, but then I stopped myself. Even though I wouldn't want to touch it, why should I prevent him from enjoying it? Sometimes I feel like I'm programmed to say "no," without even really thinking about why I am saying it. Who cares if he gets seaweed slime on his shirt...that's what a washing machine is for. And after seeing his smiling face, how could I suggest otherwise?

Neglect

2009-10-08T21:34:00.005-04:00

My camera was poorly abused last month. It sat forlornly in its bag during a wonderful outdoor dinner with friends. I took it on a weekend trip to see some of my favorite ladies, and then left it in my suitcase the entire time. I'm trying to make up for it. I've used it three times during the past seven days.

This picture is actually from the month of camera neglect. I just couldn't go without getting a picture of me covered in watered-down chocolate pudding. No this is not a scandalous moment, just a night in the life of a high school youth group volunteer. Have you ever done a chocolate slip-n-slide? You should try it. Maybe you won't do a painful belly-flop in front of forty high schoolers. That's right. I'm so cool.

Yay for the State Fair! It's exhausting, smelly, and oh so fun.

Just a fun moment. I came home from the grocery store and found my three favorite people, chilling on the couch (though I only photographed two of them, I'll let you guess who the third was).

I'm Still Here

2009-09-22T22:58:00.003-04:00

It's way too late. I really meant to go to bed an hour ago. But I had to check my email. And Facebook. And check up on some blogs (sorry I missed the giveaway Christianne). And then I realized what a crazy blog-slacker I've been lately. Just life. School started. Bible study. Youth group. Two crazy kids. Life just starts to run away with you, you know? But I'm still here. Though I must admit that yesterday almost did me in. Owen was in rare form. Everything was a struggle. Not to mention the lunchtime art project...

I had to breastfeed Charlotte. Best done in her room where her hyper brother won't distract her. So I left Owen in the dining room with two small bowls of food and a cup of orange juice. At some point he decided that he needed more juice. Instead of asking or waiting, he decided that a stool and an adventurous spirit would get the job done. He poured himself another glass, and two bowl fulls, and enough to cover half of the table, the front of his shirt, the seat of his chair, and part of the floor. He also thought it was a good idea to go ahead and ruin the orange juice lingering behind in the carton by shoving in some peas and black beans.

Yay.

A Moving Target

2009-09-05T22:26:00.002-04:00

Feeding Charlotte solid food makes me want to run screaming from the house. When Owen was six months old, sitting in his high chair, he looked like a starving baby bird. Every time you got near him with food his mouth would pop open, he would greedily devour whatever you stuck in it, and immediately open his mouth again, ready for the next bite. Charlotte, on the other hand, never opens her mouth at all. I wait, spoon poised in mid-air, praying that she will ever so slightly part her lips so that I can shove baby food in at lightening speed. She is not defenseless. She has mastered the "spray the baby food back at mom" technique and the "stick out my tongue, close my lips, and let all the food dribble down my chin" method. The latter is very well executed because Charlotte has the craziest tongue ever. She can lick her bib. Not that she's trying to get any food off of it. Oh no. Just trying to mock me. I've tried singing little songs, eating the food myself to show her how easy and tasty it is, and trying to distract her with cool toys. I would just say, "Forget it, I'll try again later," but when you have a smallish little girl, the doctor isn't so cool with mom giving up on solids. So if you have any awesome secrets that will make feeding time more pleasant, please share.

Being Friendly

2009-08-23T15:54:00.003-04:00

During eighth grade "Shannon" moved to town. It was clear from the beginning that Shannon would be part of the popular crowd. It was also fairly clear that Shannon was not a fan of mine, as evidenced by her declaration, "I don't like that girl." I pretended that this did not bother me in the least, but deep down, I was wounded. Not only because this girl that I did not know had hurt my self-esteem, but because I knew that this was the nail in my popularity coffin. I'm not sure what the popular equation involved, but I'm fairly certain that your neighborhood, attractiveness, and involvement in certain activites played key roles. I had a few strikes against me already, and now I had been black-balled by one of the queen bees. Our dislike for one another culminated in an unseemly exchange during ninth grade (which I am not proud of). She made a snide remark, I flipped her off, and three of her worker bees called me aside in an attempt to intimidate me into submission. I'm fairly certain that was our only interaction until some minor conversation occurred during our senior year. At yet, as an adult, I still recall that interaction with clarity. Mostly, I think, because I deeply yearned acceptance. I wanted all the girls to like me and every boy to have a crush on me. As an adult, I realize the foolishness of this desire. But somehow I still feel a residual sting from the whole high school experience.

These memories are floating at the surface of my mind because I have recently joined the world of Facebook. It has been great to reconnect with friends from the past and keep abreast of the goings-on of my local friends. However, I never considered who would ask to be my "friend." Some of the girls from high school, girls who I perceived to be in a crowd that I didn't feel welcome to join, have sent me "friend requests." And quite honestly, my gut reaction is to ignore them. I tell myself that they are probably just friend-hoarders and this is not a genuine effort at being my friend. Or that this is not real human interaction anyways, it's just computer networking after all. But truly, I'm ignoring them because I want to return the favor. I'm keeping record of their wrongs. And I thought I was more grown up than that.

In actuality, fourteen-year-olds are not the only ones who yearn for acceptance. My mind knows that I should not strive for the approval of man, that God is the only one I should seek to please, but it's a struggle to put that into action. For now, I suppose my next step will be to quite clicking the "ignore" button.

You Like'a the Juice?

2009-08-20T22:51:00.003-04:00

I'm now relearning all of the baby-feeding facts I learned four years ago. We have tried rice cereal, oatmeal, carrots, sweet potatoes, peas, and bananas (surprisingly, peas have been the big winner so far). In my efforts to reeducate myself, I've done a little reading, and not just for Charlotte. Years ago I learned that toddlers should have no more than four ounces of juice a day. But Owen is almost four, so I thought I should probably check to see if there are new guidelines. In fact, there are not. From 6 months to 6 years, they should not exceed four ounces of juice a day! What was even more interesting was to learn that many toddlers/preschoolers consume their entire day's worth of calories in liquids. The pediatrician writing the article said that parents were showing up, concerned about their child not eating, not realizing that two sippy cups of juice and four or more of milk contained more than the recommended 1200 calories their child needed for the day. It's hard to think of liquids as having quite so many calories. Since I've been breastfeeding, I've been drinking lots of caloric beverages, without much consequence. But it's going to be tough to break the habit once I have to go back to feeding just myself. So if you see me six months from now, staring lustily at a Dr. Pepper, please hide it from me.

Fecal Matters

2009-08-20T22:16:00.002-04:00

There were so many comments about toilet usage on the last post that I just can't resist. Are all of you aware of toilet spray? Years ago a friend shared this with me, but I looked it up for myself the other day. I found a summary of a scientific study about what happens after you flush your toilet. Spray from inside the toilet is expelled six to eight feet in all directions. That means that poo is on your ceiling, in your sink, on your toothbrush, and hanging out in your fuzzy little bathmat. The article stated that your toilet seat is infinitely cleaner than your sink because of the lack of moisture on the seat. Have you touched your sink lately? Maybe you should stop. Maybe you should get a pair of gloves to wear whenever you come near it. Maybe you should start peeing in your sink and brushing your teeth over your toilet. Poo is everywhere, people. Embrace it (not literally, that would be gross). Stop hovering. Give yourself a minute to relax.

On a related note, we were in Bethesda for a research study the last several days. Part of the study involved a blood draw. They had poked our little girl twice, gotten no blood, and left us all a little traumatized. While I'm holding, bouncing, and soothing, one of the technicians hands me a urine cup. He declares that they also need a urine sample from Charlotte. I stare at him in bewilderment. How the heck am I supposed to get a six month old to put urine in a tiny little cup? I suddenly have visions of me trying to wring pee out of a cloth diaper or holding her over a cup for hours, hoping to catch the pee as it comes spouting out. I laugh at him and ask, "How?" He vaguely says something about a diaper. We go to the peds clinic, and I get a VERY detailed explanation of urine bags from one of the nurses. These are plastic bags that get taped to babies in the hopes that the urine will collect inside. The best part was that every time she should have used an anatomical name she instead whispered, "girl parts." Needless to say, these bags are NOT foolproof. Catching urine is quite the tricky business. Thankfully, the little teaspoon that didn't dribble out into her diaper was sufficient. At least I didn't have to wring out anything.

Summer Hiatus

2009-08-15T14:49:00.003-04:00

So I've noticed that many of my friends and acquaintances are on a bit of a summer hiatus from their blogs, so I thought I would post something, just to give you regular blog-checkers-with-nothing-to-read something to do. I was thinking in the car today about little bits of info that I have acquired that others might find useful:
1. Dawn dishwashing detergent is fabulous for removing grease stains on clothes (I never wear an apron and therefore am constantly splattering my clothes with oil in the kitchen).
2. You do NOT need to get your oil changed every 3000 miles. Read your manual. Most car manufacturers recommend either 5000 or 7500 miles.
3. Your local library probably has most of the movies that you spend money to rent. You might have to wait an extra month to see it, but it will be free. Just put it on reserve and you get an email when it comes in.
4. Consignment and thrift stores are a gift from God. I buy all of my clothes there. I purchased a Guess skirt (that's still in style) for $3. Get over the whole, "eww, someone else wore this," problem and realize that you park your bare butt on a toilet seat that MANY others have used every single day.

If you have any bits of wisdom, please share.

The Familiar Waiting Room

2009-08-12T15:01:00.003-04:00

I feel like a regular here. I know the location of the bathroom. I'm aware of the weird hours of the caf. I know that you don't sit near the desk, because once the volunteer receptionist leaves, someone has to answer the patient update phone. And I'm used to the obnoxious sounds of The Suite Life in the background. But anyways, thought some of you out there might want to know that Charlotte's cath has gone well. We haven't been able to see her yet, but the procedure went as planned. Her aorta is looking good, and her clot in her femoral artery has dissipated. We'll be back here in two months to keep an eye on her aorta, but for now, we're awaiting our release.

The Red Menu

2009-08-08T22:58:00.002-04:00

Tonight we went to our favorite Chinese restaurant for dinner. Every time we go I am amazed at how wonderful the food is and feel really dumb for every time I have eaten at any other Chinese restaurant in Hampton Roads. Seriously, if you live around here, you need to drop everything and drive straight to Jade Villa in Virginia Beach. Don't worry, they're open until 1:30am. You should know, this is not your average American-Chinese place. They have two menus--one white menu and one red menu. The white one (how appropriate) is for the faint of heart, the weenies, the Americans. The red one is for the actual Chinese people who eat there. No joke. And every time we go, I scour the red menu. You see, I really want to be one of those people--the adventurous, well-traveled, not-scared-of-your-crazy-jellyfish-appetizer types. But I'm not. I cannot find a darn thing on that red menu that sounds better than Mongolian Beef, egg rolls, wonton soup, and General Tso's. I am not enticed by tripe or duck tongue or boneless pig's feet. So I suppose I will continue to order from the white menu, happily gorging myself on the best Mu Shu Pork I have ever eaten.

God Made the Fish

2009-08-01T19:04:00.002-04:00

We had salmon for dinner last night. We're a seafood loving family, so Owen is no stranger to fish. But last night he was apparently thinking about the food on his plate. He held up a piece of salmon on his fork and declared, "God changed this from a swimming fish to a fish that you can eat." Hmmm. I don't know what you would have done, but I'm not quite ready to tell him that someone kills the fish, so I just kept right on eating.

On a different note, I finally put together the "Who Loves Baby?" book we were given when Owen was a newborn. It is squishy and slobber-proof and has slots for pictures of all the people (or however many will fit in 6 photos) who love your baby. So I filled it up today and let Charlotte look at it. Every time she gets to the page with Owen's picture on it, she smiles.

Tidbits

2009-07-29T16:11:00.006-04:00

I don't have much to share today. Just some random little bits.

-Charlotte has two teeth now, and loves to chew on my finger with them.
-She is also quite the roller, but she still forgets that she knows how to roll back after she lands on her tummy, resulting in angry cries for deliverance.
-Owen filled up his Potty Sticker Chart and took his earned quarters to the store to buy a prize. We even counted out the money together. He proudly told the cashier that he "pooped in the potty."
-He's a big fan of the phrase "chill out," though he doesn't know how to use it contextually and often says instead, "Chill up, Mom."
-We watched Ice Age together a few weeks ago. He cried at the end when they gave the baby back to its dad. So did I.

My kids make me smile.

Freud

2009-07-27T11:26:00.002-04:00

We have a slight problem. Owen is going through the Oedipal stage. "I want Mommy to make my breakfast. I want Mommy to read my books. I want Mommy, not Daddy!!!" Please make it go away. I tried to look up advice online, but searching for "parenting" and "Oedipal" produces mostly psychoanalysis websites that have absolutely no practical advice. I don't need to know in-depth analysis of Freudian behaviors. I just want to help Owen get through this phase as quickly as possible. Anybody out there have any advice?

Deceptive Recipes

2009-07-24T18:17:00.003-04:00

I've been on an on-again/off-again cooking hiatus for around five months. I'm sure you understand. Sometimes life just forces you into "Let's look into the fridge and eat whatever we find" mode, but I've been in the kitchen a bit lately and couldn't resist complaining about a few things. Namely, recipe writers. Who are these people? Which evil genius wrote the "Low Fat Brownie" recipe I made earlier this week? Because I must say, I didn't see it coming. It had a beautiful name. It had beautiful ingredients. I was excited. And then I poured the batter into my 8 x 8 pan and discovered why it was "Low Fat"...I could barely convince the batter to slide into all four corners. When they came out of the oven they were a centimeter tall. And they suggested you cut them into TWELVE portions. If I had mashed the brownie into a measuring device, I think it would have been about a tablespoon. Who the heck eats a tablespoon sized brownie?? Ridiculous.

My second complaint is in regards to the kitchen ninja who wrote my recipe tonight. I suspect he has also participated in writing MANY other recipes. At the top my recipe declares that I only need 20 minutes to prep and 31 to cook. In 20 minutes I'm supposed to shred an entire chicken, finely dice an onion, and measure out 10 other ingredients. My 31 minute time-frame is fine as long as my stove will heat oil to a shimmer and bring cold liquids to a boil instantly. No problem. I believe that they search out the world's fastest prep cooks and ask them to compete in chicken shredding and vegetable chopping. Whoever has the fastest time gets to write that at the top of the recipe.

Be Still

2009-07-17T19:27:00.002-04:00

I got a call yesterday from the Cardiologist office. They wanted me to bring Charlotte in for an echo. They had been discussing her case at their weekly conference and thought it best to make sure that her aorta looked okay. When it was ballooned, there was a spot in her aorta that pooched out a little bit. We had been warned that this might happen, and that it could be insignificant. But it's still something they like to keep a close eye on. So we went in today for the echo. Charlotte was NOT excited about the ultrasound. I ended up breastfeeding her WHILE they scanned her, because that was the only way to keep her calm enough. After they spent lots of time looking at the images, they came in to tell me this...we want a CT. Apparently the echo was making it appear that her little "pooch" was much worse, and the only way to tell for sure would be a cath or a CT with contrast. They explained that normally CTs for infants are done under sedation, but that we would give it a try right now. If she would be still enough, they would be able to get the pictures they needed, otherwise we would have to be admitted so they could do it first thing in the morning under sedation. I had just breastfed my baby so that she would be calm for an ultrasound, and now they think this same five month old is going to "be still" in a giant CT machine? I mentally prepared myself for spending another night in the hospital. She got an i.v. We took her to Radiology. A tech, two doctors and a PA all hovered over her, attempting to keep her calm and still. Owen and I went to a waiting room where I continued my repeated prayer, "Please keep her still, God." And He did. They got the images and realized that the echo was distorting the look of her aorta. Praise God.

Colorado

2009-07-11T17:31:00.000-04:00

Now that life is back to normal, I feel like I can post trivial things again...like vacation pictures. We spent a week in Breckenridge with my family. This was the view from our front door. If only all front door views were this breathtaking.

With eight people in one house, we cooked and cleaned a lot. Amanda has the clean-the-kitchen-right-after-dinner gene. I certainly do not.
Charlotte spent a LOT of time in her carrier. She loved it. Thankfully, the straps are adjustable, so we all took turns hauling her around Colorado.

This was taken in Vail. Incredibly adorable little town. There are fountains everywhere for kids to splash in. We naively thought rolling up Owen's pants would suffice. Ha ha. He was soaked by the time we were ready to leave.

Group shot. Right after we paid to go kayaking in Lake Dillon. Right before Will went back in to get a refund due to big black clouds sneaking closer across the sky.

Nearly every night we got in the hottub on our deck. Owen loved it. He renamed it "the warm tub." He also liked to provide nightly entertainment in there. Our favorite was "Shamwow."
On our last day we finally worked up the energy for a big hike. If you are ever near Breckenridge, you have to do the McCullough Gulge trail. Amazing. For much of the trail, you hike near a waterfall.
Then you cross a snow field.

And end up at a glacial lake on top of the mountain. Worth every painstaking step.

Home Again

2009-07-10T12:46:00.003-04:00

We're home. Charlotte is napping in her room, and I'm reclining on the couch. So nice. She still has the clot in her left femoral artery, but she is doing well--happy to no longer be attached to beeping computers and subjected to rectal temperature checks and ultrasound goo. She has plenty of blood flow to her leg. Her diagnostic cath is scheduled for next month and if the clot has not dissolved on its own, they will possibly balloon it then. So we're cool with that. It's just good to be home.

Optimism

2009-07-09T15:04:00.002-04:00

I've been contemplating my optimism today. I tend to look at the bright side of things. When my husband pointed out to the midwife that our daughter didn't have any thumbs, and she looked at me with shock and apologized, my response was, "That's okay. God must have a plan for our daughter that doesn't include thumbs." And that's just how I see things. When the cardiologist told us eight months ago that the ultrasound may show an A/P window, but probably not...I focused on the "probably not." When they saw some scar tissue at her follow-up cardiology appointment four months ago and said that it would probably go away on its own...I focused on the "would probably go away."

Today has shaken me a little. We're still in the hospital. Charlotte has a clot in her femoral artery that is requiring some attention. It's not causing her any problems. However, they need both of her femoral arteries in good condition because "she's going to be a frequent flier." I hadn't expected that phrase. I understood that they were going to need to take a look at her aorta soon to make sure all is well, but I had no idea that she would require lots of repeat caths. I found myself holding her, unable to stop myself from crying.

When she was in the NICU a few days after her birth, I asked one of her cardiologists if the A/P surgery would take care of everything. He gave me a slightly condescending look and told me that this would be "like catching a tiger by the tail." He went on to explain that you might think you've got the tiger by the tail, but then it jerks away from you. I developed an immediate dislike for him due to that analogy. But he was right. I've never tried to catch a tiger, but I imagine that this is what it feels like.

But I still hold to my optimism. Not because I believe that the outcome of every situation will be what I want. But because it's what God calls me to be. He wants me to know true joy. He wants me to trust Him. He wants me to live in today, in the now, not worrying about tomorrow. You can't do any of those things if you're busy measuring the emptiness of the cup.

A Good Report

2009-07-08T14:13:00.002-04:00

I'm sitting in the PICU now. Charlotte is beside me, sleeping peacefully. The cath went really well. She had a significant narrowing in her aorta, so they used the balloon. It isn't 100% open, but it's much, much better, and the cardiologist was very pleased. We will be staying overnight for monitoring, and then we'll have to come back in a month to take another look at the site of repair, making sure that the aorta is holding up well. But I'm feeling incredibly blessed. So many answered prayers today.

The Waiting Room

2009-07-08T08:34:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting in the surgery waiting room. Charlotte went back about 45 minutes ago for her cardiac cath. She hadn't eaten since 2 a.m. but was happy, so that was a huge answer to prayer. They will keep us updated, but I can't imagine they've even started the cath yet, considering all of the pre-op work they have to do. Her doctor said they will only balloon open her aorta if she has a 50% blockage, otherwise they will just leave it alone. So I have no idea what to hope for...bigger blockage, get this thing taken care of, but more risk in the procedure? or less blockage and more watch and wait? So I'm just praying for God to take care of it. He's knows way better than I do.

Rock Band

2009-06-26T16:35:00.002-04:00

Charlotte is working on her emo image.

Walk this Way

2009-06-24T19:30:00.002-04:00

I can't say that I've always been a consciencious walker. Before I met Will, I was one of those free-minded walk any ole' way kind of girls. Then I met Will and learned that there are rules to walking.

1. ALWAYS walk on the right side of the sidewalk
2. Be aware of the path of the person beside you and do NOT cut them off by taking a crazy sharp turn or edging them off the sidewalk
3. Do not walk so quickly that you leave your loved one behind, feeling lonely and unimportant

After ten years together, these have now become second nature to me. So you can imagine my consternation when I crossed paths with a non-rule-followerer the other day. Last Wednesday morning we took Owen to the free kids' movie and then headed to the Fun Forest for some playtime afterwards. We're on the sidewalk at the park, me in the lead, and there are two ladies approaching from the other direction. They are walking side-by-side, taking up the whole sidewalk. I assume that one of them will drop back so that my family can pass. Neither is moving. They get closer. Still nothing. I'm starting to wonder if I am playing chicken with this lady. I will not jump into the pine needles so that she can continue hogging the sidewalk. So I stop. For a second, I think she contemplates just bowling me over and stepping on my face so that she doesn't have to swerve, but finally, she caves. Am I crazy? I know she doesn't know The Walking Rules, but doesn't this particular behavior fall in the common sense category? So I'm taking a poll...are you a sidewalk hog?

Ocracoke

2009-06-19T11:12:00.005-04:00

Last week we spent a glorious week in Ocracoke. Will's parents rented a house in the village, and we spent 7 wonderful days being lazy. However, when we weren't lounging around the house, we did have quite a lot of fun...

Our neighbors let us borrow their kayak for the week. All week long Owen talked about putting the kayak in the water. The sight of it strapped to the roof of our car was about to send him over the edge. So on Thursday, Will heaved and hoed, dragged the thing to the sound, threw Owen in the back and headed out into the wild, blue yonder. Yonder being about 40 yards from the sand, because that was when Owen declared, "I want to go back now."
Since Owen was not a fan, Will and I decided to try to go out together. This was not a good idea. This kayak was not made for two adults...hence the dumping that occured when Will tried to get us started. Eventually we did each take our turn kayaking out into the sound. The water was perfect. I could have stayed out for hours, but leaving two babies on the shore while I enjoyed myself seemed a bit selfish. It was fun while it lasted. Oh, and my favorite Owen quote from the week occured on the shore while Will was loading the kayak on the car. We were playing in the water, and I told him that we were going to have to go in a few minutes. He quietly picked up a piece of grass that was floating nearby, cocked his head to the side and declared, "You know, old seaweed is something to think about." That it is.We were blessed to be able to spend an hour on a real boat, one in which Owen was more secure, a large sailboat. Even Will said it was fun (he's not a fan of boats).

Another thing Will is not a fan of, this kite. Notice the face he is making at it. A few things we learned...do not let your three year old pick any ole kite he wants. Also, do not buy a kite that looks like a boat. A kite should not have an identity crisis. It should know what type of vessel it is. Because if it gets confused and thinks that it is indeed a boat, well, then it won't fly. And finally, if the package calls it an "Easy Flier," but it has more parts than your average vehicle, the package is lying.

Just had to show off my husband's culinary skills, not to mention the quality grill he was using (note the cinderblocks holding up the rusted-out back legs). The cornish game hens were so, so yummy. And I didn't have to lift a finger. I love vacation.

And of course you have to see my favorite angelic photo of Charlotte. There was another one with her tongue sticking out, but I just can't resist the sweet little smile in this one.

Learning

2009-06-05T19:02:00.003-04:00

She lies on her back, chubby arms and legs wiggling wildly. Without warning, she slams her legs down, heels thumping the floor. She likes the sound. Again and again she pounds on the floor, satisfied with her newfound power to make noise. Suddenly, she discovers that she can make her playmat sing if she kicks the music box. She stares wonderously at the bright lights dancing in time to Mozart. She is thinking, experimenting; she sticks out her tongue in concentration. Then she notices that I am watching her and warms my heart with an exuberant smile.

BBQ and other items of importance

2009-05-30T15:16:00.002-04:00

In relation to my post yesterday...

Christy: Why do you ask a question when you already know the answer?
Owen: Because I like to talk.

Also, I made Charlotte laugh a few minutes ago. Almost made me cry.

And now to the reason I wanted to blog...BBQ. Will and I were watching a show on Food Network last night and the subject was barbeque. I watched in horror as they slathered beautifully smoked pork in red, goopy sauces. But then they commited a true offense. They showed someone pouring a dark red sauce on a plate of pulled pork and labeled it as "North Carolina style." Is this some North Carolina in Asia that I don't know about? You know, like Georgia. I have eaten barbeque all over the fine state of North Carolina, and at no point have I ever poured a dark red sauce on that yummy meat. Sure, some of the OPTIONAL vinegary sauces might have a dark hue, but they aren't thick and masking of the barbeque's exquisite smoky goodness. So of course I had to go online and see if there is some new variety of BBQ that I don't know about, which is how I happened upon this. You see, the state of North Carolina takes barbeque so seriously that they are busy discussing it in the House.

Can you tell that I miss my favorite NC food here in Norfolk? And on a related note, here's the song that Will is trying to get Owen to learn next.

Growing

2009-05-29T09:34:00.002-04:00

They grow too fast. Tomorrow they'll be going to college. May God grant me the ability to appreciate each day, not wishing for next week (so I can go on vacation) or next month (so Charlotte will be doing new and more exciting things) or September (so Owen can go back to school and stop asking me every single morning, "Where are we going today?!").

For those who want to know, we've had a lot going on with Charlotte and doctor visits. The visit to the orthopedist was very encouraging. She should be a great candidate for pollicization when she is about a year old. We also had a visit with the geneticist. They have connected us with a physician at the NIH who is doing a study on VACTERL. Charlotte only has three of the seven birth defects, but they are still interested in having us participate. This means more doctors, possibly more advanced tests, and hopefully more answers. As for her heart, she will have to have a repeat cardiac cath in July. The scar tissue in her aorta is not stretching as they would like, so the plan is to balloon it open during the cath. Please pray for her. We have so appreciated your prayers up to this point and truly need you to continue to lift us up.

On the non-medical front, Charlotte is doing really well. She has found her hands, so she spends lots of time holding them or sticking them in her mouth or reaching for her giraffe and spider (on her play mat). She loves looking at funny faces, rewarding us with huge smiles, or watching us make noises. What do you call those anyways? Seems sort of crass to call them fart sounds, but that's the best descriptive I've got. She's even pretty good at replying with her own.

As for Owen, he's always very busy. And his mouth seems to be lacking a mute button. I got so tired of the non-stop soundtrack one day that I asked him to tell Charlie, our dog, about it instead. So he did. He's really interested in letters right now. He wants to know every word I can think of that starts with P or B or whatever letter he is currently interested in. Also, we're learning to tell time. Mostly so I can get him to stay in bed until 7:00 am. He's really sweet with Charlotte. He wants to hug and kiss her all the time. Whenever I put her in a dress he declares, "She's a princess!" Such an amazing little boy.

Well, I have a squirming little girl in my lap, so we're off for nap time.

George Clooney

2009-05-27T07:58:00.002-04:00

Our nine year anniversary was a few weeks ago. We got all dressed up because we were going out to a nice restaurant and to a Broadway show. I had no idea that a suit without a tie would be much to notice, but as soon as Will walked downstairs with his open-necked button-down and beard, I thought, "Hmm, that's very George Clooneyesque." By the way, the Broadway show was Wicked, which you should consider selling one of your vestigial organs in order to get tickets.

ShamWow

2009-05-21T19:14:00.003-04:00

No, we did not buy a ShamWow. However, we know all of the words to the commercial. The story goes like this...one day we had the t.v. on and the SlapChop commercial came on. I stared at the screen, fascinated, waiting for the spoof to end. But it wasn't a spoof. This was a real-deal commercial. I expressed my shock to Will, who said, "Of course not, that's the ShamWow guy." The what?? He then pulled up this video for my viewing pleasure:

Owen happened to be in the room while we watched and immediately fell in love with this song. Nearly every time Will is on the laptop he asks to hear "The ShamWow Song." Thus, we all know the words. Charlotte's going to join in soon.

The Cold Side

2009-05-11T22:31:00.003-04:00

Owen has a bedtime routine. Put on pajamas, brush teeth, read two books, pray, go to sleep. My favorite part, of course, is curling up in his bed with him and reading together. Tonight, I had just finished the books and was about to pray when Owen said, "Wait! I have to turn my pillow." He flipped his pillow over and lay down with a smile. This aroused my curiosity, so I asked why he had to do that. His reply was, "Because I like it cold." I just had to laugh. I never would have thought that a three year old could appreciate the difference between a warm and cold pillow. I smiled and told him that I like my pillow cold too.

Blessed

2009-05-08T21:32:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by God's blessings.

I Like Corndogs

2009-05-04T09:08:00.002-04:00

If you haven't been living in your bomb shelter during the past few weeks, you may have heard of the swine flu. Due to my husband's profession, I've actually had several people ask me about said "pandemic" over the past few days. Here's what I have to say, and I feel as if I'm channeling my husband as best I can here, so go ahead and picture a subtly incredulous stare...it's the flu.

The flu is a contagious respiratory illness caused by influenza viruses. It can cause mild to severe illness, and at times can lead to death. The best way to prevent the flu is by getting a flu vaccination each year.
Every year in the United States, on average:
5% to 20% of the population gets the flu;
more than 200,000 people are hospitalized from flu-related complications; and
about 36000 people die from flu-related causes.

This was written on the CDC's website before the "outbreak," regarding the regular ole' flu. 36000 people a year die from the run-of-the-mill flu, and we're up in arms over this one because it has the word "swine" in it? On a swine flu website there was even a list of possible questions the public may have and their corresponding answers including "Can I still eat pork?" Are you kidding me? Please go out and buy yourself a corndog. So listen carefully, unless people start dropping like flies around you, please do not commandeer your neighbor's motorcycle and head to Nebraska to prepare for battle against Satan's minions in Las Vegas. It's not time.

M-O-O-N, that spells flu.

Chocolate Yoohoo

2009-05-03T14:47:00.002-04:00

In the ongoing battle with poop, we have a temporary solution. Owen will go in the potty if he is not clothed. This means that if you drop by my house any given afternoon (he can wear clothes in the morning because he's not a morning pooper), you will find Owen minus pants. This has gone very smoothly as long as you don't count the following situations:
-Ninth grade girl drops by my house to pick up something. I hurry to meet her in the yard so as to avoid awkwardness. I turn around to go inside and find Owen on the front porch, waving, exposed. Ninth grade girl's mom stares incredulously.
-Lunch time today. Chocolate cake for dessert. Owen is not a pro at eating anything with icing. Icing all over his face, hands, arms, and.... Oh well. That's what washcloths are for.

On an entirely different note, I have a question. Will and I were at Baxter's (a sports bar) last night. We ate dinner and then asked our waitress about renting a pool table for an hour. She said she would transfer our bill "over there" so that we could pay all at once. When we got to the table a different waitress approached who asked if we needed anything, to which we replied "no." When we were ready to leave I asked Waitress #1 if our tip would go to her, and she said "no, it will go to [Waitress #2]." In my opinion (as a former waitress), this is total crap, but Will assured me that all is fair in tips and the sports bar. I thought we should have left our tip off of the credit card and given Waitress #1 a cash tip. What do you think?

Open Wide

2009-04-28T21:14:00.002-04:00

I'm not a fan of going to the dentist. And yet the Responsible Gene in me forces me to go every six months (or so) and get my teeth cleaned. In my opinion, the most unpleasant part of the experience is when they are using the crazy spinning toothbrush, all the while sucking spit out of your open mouth. But I must say that you don't really notice the electrical instruments in your mouth when you are precariously dangling one leg off of the dental chair and using your toes to rock your fussing infant in her carseat. Ahh, motherhood.

Talking to Jesus

2009-04-22T13:26:00.003-04:00

Owen (from his doorway): Mom! Mom!
Christy (appearing stage left): Yes, Owen?
Owen (staring around blankly): ummmm...Mom, my play-doh is missing
Christy (increasingly aggitated): Do you know what time it is?
Owen holds up some fingers
Christy: No, it's quiet time. What does that mean?
Owen: Mom, I'm telling you about my play-doh.
Christy: I don't want to talk about play-doh right now, it's quiet time.
Owen: I'm not talking to YOU about my play-doh...I'm talking to Geee-sus. I'm talking to Jesus about my play-doh, not you.

Girlfriends

2009-04-20T17:26:00.002-04:00

Couldn't resist posting a cute picture too. This is Charlotte with her sister from another mother (and father), Tessa.

Another Update

2009-04-20T17:16:00.002-04:00

We got the results from the Holt-Oram test today...normal. This, however, does not mean that she does not have Holt-Oram. Apparently, they tested the more common gene that shows Holt-Oram. There are two others. We're not sure if the doctor is going to pursue that route or look in another direction or what. Our actual genetic appointment isn't for several more weeks. At this point, we're really just looking for an explanation, so I suppose there's no need to be in a hurry. All of her other tests have come back normal, and she's a healthy, thriving little girl. "Wait" is always a hard thing to hear though. On the fussy front, losing the dairy in my diet seems to be making a huge difference. I gave myself a dairy-day two weeks ago that resulted in lots of extra screaming and a vicious diaper rash. So here's saying goodbye to tall glasses of cold milk, Dairy Queen blizzards, grilled cheese sandwiches, and pretty much every darn cookie on the cookie aisle. If you have any great recipes that don't involve dairy, please send them my way.

Pondering in the Shower

2009-04-14T10:58:00.002-04:00

I was in the shower this morning, enjoying the hot water, not ready to get to the actual cleaning, so I decided to read the back of the shampoo bottle. It has "directions." Do you really need directions for your shampoo? Anyways, it says, "Rinse and repeat." What a thinly veiled ploy that is to get you to use more shampoo than you actually need. Which led me to think about something I read online the other day. I was on a forum for cloth diapering (granola mom alert), reading about the best washing methods, and one lady declared that, even on her regular clothes, she only uses half of the recommended amount of detergent. Her reasoning was, do you really think the detergent company would tell you the exact amount to use? Don't you think they're going to tell you to use a little more than necessary so you'll blow through their product faster and go buy more? This freaks me out a little. How many manufacturers could be lying to us?

Poop Smears

2009-04-13T21:53:00.002-04:00

When your child poops in a little kid potty, and you've dumped it in the big potty, what do you do with the residuals? The best I can figure, you wipe it out with toilet paper. But that seems a little bit gross to me. Those little potties don't leave lots of hand-manuevering space, and I'm really not pumped about getting little poop smears on my hand. Any advice?

Happy Easter!

2009-04-12T17:39:00.000-04:00

Scrub-a-dub-dub

2009-04-11T10:38:00.002-04:00

As I mentioned in my previous post, I was all about getting the laundry done yesterday. I was transferring my final load to the dryer, and suddenly I thought I might be losing my mind. That's because I was staring down into the washer and, gosh darnit, that looked like my cell phone there in the bottom, hiding beneath my robe. And then it really hit me...oh my word, that's my cell phone in the washer!! Words do not adequately describe my frustration. I have now learned, however, that all hope is not lost. Many tech nerds online declare that if I let my phone sit in a warm place for three days with the battery removed, it may very well recover. So here's praying for phone healing. If you need to reach me, please send me an email or call Will.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

2009-04-10T10:24:00.003-04:00

I'm folding laundry in the bedroom. Owen is playing in his "train room" (aka the oversized laundry room which is now serving double-duty). Owen walks into the bedroom and declares, "I didn't color on the floor." I ignore this statement because I am certain that this is a giant lie, and quite honestly I just don't feel like disciplining right now. Charlotte is asleep downstairs, Owen's usual time-out spot is dangerously close to her room, and dang it, I just want to finish folding the clothes. But he is persistent. "Mom, that room is a MESS." Resignation. "Why don't you show me." As we walk to the laundry room, Owen covers his ears with his hands. This is the second time he has done this. I suppose he thinks I'm going to explode, which is interesting because I'm not really the exploding type. But as we enter the room I realize that Owen was being honest, he really had not colored on the floor, the room was indeed a MESS, and his ear covering was once again done in vain. I suppose I would have known he was telling the truth if I had just looked at him during his coloring declaration. You see, Owen always looks up when he lies. Not just a slight, sneaky glance up. Oh no, his eyes are as far up as they can possibly go. I've heard that all people usually do something with their eyes when they lie, but who would have thought that it started at three?? Hopefully he will hold onto this handy tell for many years to come.

The Beard

2009-04-09T16:02:00.003-04:00

It just so happened that I was uploading pictures from the camera today and noticed that I had individual shots of all the Alleys (save myself). So I just couldn't resist posting one of each. The first two are, of course, me just reveling in my kids' cuteness. The last, however, leads one to wonder...why is Will taking a picture of himself? And why on earth does he have his head turned at an awkward angle? Well, dear readers, it's all about the beard. For weeks he had been growing this majestic red beard. And for weeks he had been debating with himself about shaving. It was the request from his wife to go to the beach mixed with the fear of having a strange beard-tan if he chose to shave afterwards that led to his spontaneous decision to do away with his whiskers. He was so hasty, in fact, that he had already shaved the right side of his face before he realized that he simply had to have a picture of his glorious red beard (thus the awkward head angle). And now I have to listen to him moan about the loss of said beard. The beard is always more glorious on the other side of the fence.

The Changing Mat

2009-04-06T09:17:00.000-04:00

The changing mat is nothing special--a run-of-the-mill, slope-sided, waterproof fabriced place to change a baby's diaper. It's not on a table because something in me balks at changing her in the same place all the time. Which is probably a good thing because that has resulted in the discovery that Charlotte adores being on her changing mat (without a diaper). She will happily lay there, airing-out, two or three times a day for around half an hour. We even had friends over for dinner and let her enjoy her changing mat on the living room floor after dinner. Is that weird? Granted, these were two of our best friends, so they already know we're a little bit weird. However, it does make things difficult when you're changing her somewhere like the church nursery or a restaurant bathroom. They really frown upon you leaving your baby there to hang out.

An Apple a Day?

2009-04-04T16:22:00.000-04:00

Picture this...you're three years old. You've been playing hard in the backyard, and now you're hungry. Your mom is preoccupied with changing your little sister's diaper, so you ask if you can get an apple. She's excited to not have to get up from the floor and says yes. As you open the refrigerator door and pull out the produce drawer, you take a good look at the apple bag. Usually, you would just grab an apple and close the refrigerator, but something occurs to you today...why not just take the whole bag? Sitting at your little table you stare at those five juicy apples and wonder, "Which apple is the best?" And then you realize, "Hey! I could just try them all." So you take a bite out of one, nope. Number two, nope. Number three, nope. Apple number four is promising, but after four or five bites, you think, "Maybe number five is better than this." And you were right. You're about halfway through number five when mom appears. Why on earth is she making that face? She seems upset. But this sure is a great apple.

Genetics

2009-04-01T13:57:00.001-04:00

We all like answers. Sorry to say that I don't have any of those from the genetics physicians. Charlotte was scheduled for an appointment with them today, but it has been cancelled because there just isn't any point right now. They did a whole slew of tests while she was in the NICU, all of which have come back negative, save the one that we're really curious about...Holt-Oram Syndrome. It's going to be another month before the results are back. If it too is negative, well, I guess that means more tests. God is faithful though, and I can honestly say that He's giving me lots of peace about this whole situation. Thank you for your continued prayers through all of this.

Random Update

2009-03-30T20:58:00.000-04:00

I really don't have anything too exciting to share. I know there are some grandparents just itching for picture posts, so here are a few to satiate your voracious appetites. As for the answer to, "How's life without milk?" It's not so bad. I'm substituting Sprite ;-) I'm not really sure if it's helping or not. The crying does seem more manageable, but I'm not sure if that's because I'm learning how she prefers to be soothed, or because she's getting older and becoming more capable of dealing with the crazy gassiness, or because of the new diet. I'm going to give it two full weeks and then possibly reintroduce the dairy and pay close attention. We'll see. I'm trying to remember all of the other interesting things going on lately, but my brain is fried. Hopefully I'll have something more lively to share soon.

I love milk

2009-03-19T14:13:00.000-04:00

God bless the person who invented the baby swing. It took about ten tries, but I finally got a shot of her with the swing in the center of the photo (maybe I should have just taken a picture before I turned it on...hmm...oh well). As I mentioned before, Charlotte is a good bit fussier than I'm used to, so I'm incredibly grateful for any apparatus that allows me to put her down and not hear screaming as a result. This Cadillac of baby swings goes either side-to-side OR front-to-back. Amazing. Thanks so much to the Alleys for blessing us with this glorious gift. This is related to the title of my post, I promise. Because of said fussy daughter, I'm going to give up dairy for a week. Total insanity. I adore all things dairy (except cottage cheese--anything that looks like it's already gone bad should not be put in your mouth). I can drink a gallon of milk by myself in four or five days. Yogurt is one of my favorite snacks. Cheese goes on everything. However, my daughter poots and poops like nothing I've ever seen. And she's not happy about it. So at her doctor's appointment today it was suggested that I stop consuming dairy for a week to see if it makes a difference. I don't know whether to hope that it will (so she won't be fussy) or hope that it won't (so I can resume drinking milk every morning). I suppose this is where I put her needs above my own and hope for a big change, but I'm not going to like it.

And on a totally different note, meet Frosty. Our whole inch of snow two weeks ago was just enough for Will and Owen to make a 12 inch snowman. Isn't he cute?

Everybody say, "Aww"

2009-03-11T13:59:00.000-04:00

Maybe I'm biased, but I'm pretty sure I have the cutest kids in the world. But anyways, just thought I'd let all you inquiring minds know that we're doing well here in the Alley house. Charlotte is amazingly like every other newborn, though a bit fussier than her brother was back in the day. She's quite a good eater now though, so praise God for that. She had her follow-up appointments with Cardiology and Cardiac Surgery. They were all very pleased with her healing. However, her aorta does show a bit of narrowing where they made the repair, so please pray that it will stretch with her as she grows. They're going to keep an eye on it for the next six months. If it does not, then she will be back in for another cardiac cath with a balloon to increase the diameter of the aorta. This would by no means be the end of the world (God has done such bigger things in her already), but we'd rather not send our baby girl back into the hospital.

Fair Weather Friends

2009-03-09T22:39:00.000-04:00

Today was day three of our beautiful weather. In Norfolk, it only takes a few days of warm sunshine to bring out our friends, the American Cockroaches. Some people call them water bugs, but that's only because they are afraid to say the word cockroach. They believe it implies dirty, unpleasant living conditions. However, I have learned that everyone in Norfolk battles these little punks every spring. (At one point I have found a ginormous cockroach eating cookie crumbs from a still-warm cookie sheet, and making a scritching noise with his front legs that could be heard in the next room.) So every spring I buy a load of giant bug hotels and place them around the house. But who would have thought it was cockroach time already? Apparently, it is. We were at Hardee's yesterday (free Roastburger day). I was waiting at the counter while Will sat at a nearby table with Owen and Charlotte. To my utter horror, one of the largest cockroaches ever is headed straight for my family. I'm fairly certain that it's going to zip up Will's leg and attack them all. I make a mad dash for the table, yank off my flip flop, and beat the mess out of him before he can complete his killer mission. I'm sure the people in line, along with several employees, think that I have lost my mind. But one savvy employee realizes I deserve a free cherry turnover for that. So if you're looking for free food, keep an eye out for cockroaches.

PS Don't worry, pictures of Charlotte (instead of cockroaches) on the way.

A Few Questions

2009-02-27T15:14:00.000-05:00

What do you do when both of your children are screaming at the same time and you are the only one in the house?

Why will Owen not poop in the freakin' potty?

How can a 7 pound little girl poop and pee more than she seems to actually consume?

Does breast-feeding frustrate all women on earth or is it just me and most of my friends?

Homecoming

2009-02-25T22:20:00.000-05:00

Charlotte is home. I cannot tell you how surreal that is. She had open-heart surgery a week ago today. I am blown away. Sometimes I'm holding her close, and I start to cry. I'm overwhelmed by God's answers to our prayers. There was a point at which I was afraid to walk in her room, because I was afraid she wouldn't make it through surgery to live there. And now she is just like any other newborn (minus the giant healing wound on her chest)--sleeping, eating, and pooping. By the way, she projectile pooped on me today. Will thought that was absolutely hilarious. And on a similar note, Owen let out a giant poot the other day and declared, "I made a honk!" I should really be getting some sleep, so that's all for now.

P.S. Isn't Will the best dad ever? He started a fire outside in the freezing cold, just so Owen could roast some marshmallows. Too cute.

Progress

2009-02-20T22:36:00.000-05:00

These are pre-surgery pictures (plus a bonus picture of Owen having fun with his Papa). I didn't think everyone would want to see Charlotte with all of her tubes, but hopefully we'll have some post-tube pictures soon. I am so excited to report that she is improving every day. She has been extubated and had her chest tubes removed, along with her arterial line, catheter, and a periferal line. From here on out we're waiting for her lungs to stay clear and her eating to improve. As long as she has some lung congestion, she has to undergo chest PT. Please pray that this problem resolves itself quickly. This mommy is not very good at watching her baby girl get drummed and suctioned. As for eating, she is still very sleepy from the anesthesia and pain medications, so that makes eating a little more of a challenge (I'm not so good at drinking milk in my sleep either). Thanks again to all of you who are reading this and praying with us through this challenging time.

Praise be to God

2009-02-18T16:36:00.000-05:00

Charlotte's surgery was successful! We have not been able to see her yet, but we have met with her surgical team. They reported that it could not have gone better. We are so excited right now. Thank you so much for all of your prayers. Please continue to pray for her recovery. She will be in the PICU for the next seven to ten days. The big hurdles are getting her lungs cleared of the excess fluid, getting her to breathe on her own, and making sure she can eat well. I'll try my best to keep you updated, and hopefully post some more pictures soon.

Charlotte Grace

2009-02-13T23:30:00.000-05:00

Charlotte Grace arrived on February 12th at 2:02 am. At birth she weighed 7 lb 4 oz and was 19.5." Labor lasted most of the day on Wednesday, though it wasn't overly consistent or strong until around 6:00pm. Will was a fantastic birthing coach, and my midwife and nurse were incredible. I won't burden you with the details, but if you'd like to hear the banshee screams, I could try to replicate them for you.

Charlotte is absolutely lovely. We are so in love with her already. And we need your prayers. I know that some of you are very underinformed at the moment, so I wanted to put all of the information in one place. As we suspected months ago, Charlotte does indeed have a heart defect. It was confirmed late in the afternoon on the 12th, and she was immediately transferred to the NICU. She has been scheduled for a cardiac catheterization for Tuesday and then open-heart surgery for Wednesday or Thursday to block the connection between her two vessels. She is currently under close monitoring to make sure that the heart defect does not cause any problems before the upcoming surgery. We have been spending all of our free time at the hospital with her, getting lots of good cuddling time before things get more complicated next week. We have been blessed to have family and friends watch Owen for us while we are out of the house (PS. Owen has an awful cold...please pray for him too).

The other concern is that we're not sure what has caused the defect. Charlotte was born without thumbs and with irregularities in the bones of her right lower arm. This probably indicates that she has some type of syndrome. One in particular called Holt-Oram Syndrome (aka heart-hand syndrome) is the leading guess at the moment. She has had a huge number of tests and blood-work done, but the answer to this particular question will take weeks to arrive. All of the other tests appear to be normal. As for improving the hand issues, this is something we're going to be getting more information on, but is not an immediate concern.

Please pray for all of us. This has been such a roller coaster of emotions. Most of the time it's easy to trust in God and His plan in all of this, but then the moments come when you start thinking about the "ifs," and you're fighting back tears. I can use His word to combat these thoughts, but it's still a battle nonetheless. And then there are the moments when you don't even have to think, the emotions just well up and overwhelm you.

Thank you to everyone who has blessed us during this time with help, love, support and prayer. I don't know what we would do without you.

Missing the Point

2009-02-07T16:44:00.001-05:00

Owen has the games that you all remember from your wee days--Memory, Candy Land, Chutes & Ladders. The funny thing about playing with him is that he has no concept of winning. You can tell him until you are blue in the face that the point is to get to the end first or collect the most matches, and it won't make the least difference. In each game, he has his very own goal. In Memory it is to get the pair of cards that he likes the best (the birthday cake). In Candy Land he loves the gingerbread space (near the VERY beginning of the path) and yearns to draw that card. And in C & L he only wants to climb the tallest ladder (not so he can get near the end, but simply for the joy of climbing it). I am a very competitive individual, and this way of playing games makes me want to tear out my hair. And then the other day, I realized that I live out his game theory on occasion. I become so fixated on some random goal or idea, that I miss the whole point of the journey. And I imagine that God is watching, trying to tell me that the point is not to find the stinking birthday cake cards, but I'm so determined, I can't hear Him. And then when I don't get the birthday cake match, I freak out, and can't be happy with the perfectly good pair of dinosaur cards that I found.

Franklin

2009-01-28T20:15:00.000-05:00

I wanted you all to meet Franklin. He has pacifiers in his butt. You wouldn't put them in your mouth now, either.

Life

2009-01-13T21:42:00.000-05:00

I know, I know. It's been over a month. I'm one of those obnoxious bloggers who leaves you hanging, waiting for something new. Those people drive me crazy. And now I'm one of them. Not to make excuses or anything, but the last 7 weeks have been pretty crazy. First there was a wedding...Then Christmas...
Then we had a few rough weeks. My sweet great-grandma passed away on January 6th. It was her third winter in a row contracting pneumonia, and she just couldn't fight her way out this time. Though it was a roller coaster of emotions, I feel enormously blessed to have been able to spend a few of her last days with her. During that time, I thought a lot about fond memories that I don't want to forget, so here they are:

-she was the best book reader this three-year old girl knew
-she was a fantastic Slap Jack player (or at least it seemed that way when I was four)
-she was always concerned about feeding people, even if they repeatedly stated that they were not, in fact, hungry. On a related note, did you know that the fastest way to cool hot oatmeal is to put a little piece of ice in it?
-she loved quietly and deeply--I found a spoon yesterday that she saved and gave to me after Owen was born. It was mine when I was little and stayed with her. It had a precious note attached about how much she loved me, and Will too.
-she had a spunky side that not everyone got to see. I once witnessed her and my great-grandpa disagree about something. I thought he was the tough, stubborn one. Guess they both were.
-she was incredibly frugal (she lived through the Depression--who can blame her), but able to be giving at the same time. During college, I mentioned that I missed her apple butter. The next time I came home, she opened her cabinet to show me at least 20 jars.
-she loved to garden and can (see above)
-she made a funny noise with her mouth and scrunched up her face whenever she thought something was a load of crap
-she could make a piece of grass whistle like you wouldn't believe

And then, a week later, Will's Papa passed away too. This is my post and not Will's, so I'm not equipped to offer memorialization of him. Due to distance and life, I never had a chance to know him. But I will say that I was made strikingly aware that I am an Alley. To see Will and his family hurting, made me hurt too. I love them dearly, and I'm glad that I was able to be there with them during that time.

So, please overlook our absence from the blogging world. We pray that life will be a little less hectic now. It's not like we've got a new family member on the way or anything.

Good News

2008-12-02T15:06:00.000-05:00

Since I posted a prayer request for our little girl, I thought you might want to hear how our cardiology appointment went. They did another fetal echo to look at her heart (just a fancy ultrasound). After far too long on a very uncomfortable table, 77 images, and some waiting, we found out that her heart is doing very well. The doctor explained that fetal echo technology really isn't advanced enough to be able to accurately diagnosis the problems we are investigating. If her aortic arch is indeed on the right, versus the left, side of her body, that's not something to be concerned about. Apparently 5-10% of the population has a right-sided aortic arch. The fact that the two arteries leaving the heart may be connected is also not something to be concerned about for now. She should be able to undergo a normal delivery and do the usual cuddling and breastfeeding. As she goes off for her bath, the cardiologist will come to the nursery and do an echo (much easier to see the arteries when my belly, uterus and placenta are not in the way). If indeed the arteries are connected, she would need surgery to place something in there to separate them. This would be a one-time fix. Not sure if this would be done immediately or a little later. He didn't seem inclined to explain the "what if" scenario, mostly I think because he's not sure there's even a connection there. We are feeling really blessed right now. God is amazing. Even if she needs surgery, I'm certain that His hands are capable of carrying her during that as well. Thank you for all your concern and prayers.

A Politically Incorrect Video

2008-11-24T15:13:00.000-05:00

Owen's preschool had their first performance last week. I've attached a video if you're a grandparent, and therefore want to gobble up three minutes of little kids singing off key (I loved it). My favorite parts: Owen being the only one who refused to wear his headband, the way they all confirm the number of fingers they are supposed to be holding up by looking at each other, the moment when the boy to Owen's left tickles Owen in the face with his feather, and the very end when Owen thinks he's supposed to mimic the music teacher's motions.

The title of this blog, however, is not related to Owen's cuteness in the video. It's the fact that Owen's preschool is not on the same page with the PC crowd. Virginia schools now teach children about the First Americans--not the Native Americans (because they were not in fact native) or the Indians (because that's some confused European's label for the people he met). Funny that they even chose to sing two songs that repeatedly use the word Indian. This didn't particularly offend me, but I'd be curious to know if First Americans(?) would be bothered. And what do they think about Thanksgiving anyways? I love the whole yummy food, give thanks part of the holiday, and generally think the story we learned in elementary school must be a load of crap, but what about their take on it? Anybody have any insight to share?

You need to get a jobby job

2008-11-23T21:08:00.000-05:00

All three of you that read this blog already know this, but I've accepted a job here in Norfolk. I know, we've always said we weren't staying, but it just happened. During the job search, a fellowship position opened up here, and I got it. With all the years of explaining what residency means, I have now entered a whole new level of complexity. I feel this is best explained by compairing my position to those on the completely asinine TV medical dramas.

For our first 4 years in Norfolk, I was a medical student. These rarely show up on TV, but one did play a significant role on ER as one of Abby's suitors. I don't know his name, but he was on for a few shows, wound up asking her out, and caused a little inner-turmoil as she had to decide between him or Luca. At the end of my time as a med student, I had to decide what kind of doctor I wanted to be. I chose emergency medicine. At graduation, I officially became a doctor (this simply refers to a degree).

The next year, I was an intern(aka 1st year resident). This equals Meredith, Izzy, et al on the first year of Grey's Anatomy. That year is spent doing a lot of scut work, taking orders from more senior residents, and all the while trying to learn as much as fast as possible so as not to kill anybody (which is a distinct possibility).

For the next two years until residency is over, I'm a resident. This equals Meredith, Izzy, et al now. More responsibility and more leeway to kill patients (still very possible).

Here is where it gets really complicated. I am approaching the end of my residency. Up till now, I have been riding the coat tails of my attendings, working under what is dubbed a provisional license. This pretty much means my attendings are responsible for all my bad decisions. They can chew me out at their liberty, of course. However, at the end of this year (June), I will have my own license to practice medicine. I call my own shots. I'm responsible for my own mistakes. After residency, most residents go on to get a job in a community hospital, without residents, just patients. They are attending physicians.

I, on the other hand, have elected to become a fellow. I still have completed residency, I still am responsible for my own mistakes, but I've also decided to spend more time learning. The only fellow I can think of on TV was Elliot on scrubs. She took an endocrinology fellowship after residency, but then got fired and came back to Sacred Heart. My fellowship is in emergency ultrasound. I won't go into that too much. I've already written more in this blog than I ever have before. I hope that clears things up.

Note: I do not know who I am compared to the characters on House, MD. The best I can tell, those guys are internal medicine physicians, but they do a strange amount of surgery too. And I can't figure out where they are in their training. I assume the ones not named House are residents, but their job is way too cushy for that.

Poop!

2008-11-23T20:24:00.000-05:00

Yay for poop in the potty!!! We've had a great few weeks of peeing in the potty, but until today I was spending a moment of each day swishing poop out of underwear into the potty. Fun, I know. But today the poop did not get deposited in the underwear, causing my son to come walking out of his room like a cowboy who's been on the range all day. We were getting desperate for this milestone, so he got two cars out of this one, Mater and Sally. Hopefully, this will again be the beginning of lots of good times on the potty.

Big spoon

2008-11-20T16:22:00.000-05:00

Last night I led my 9th grade girls small group. We are discussing purity over the next few weeks, and the discussion last night included a brief mention of spooning. This led one of the girls to question my current ability to spoon (due to my ginormous belly), to which I indignantly replied, "I can still be the front spoon!" As I was sharing this story with Will afterwards, he declared, "You mean the little spoon. I'm the big spoon, you're the little spoon." I immediately assumed this was my husband being argumentative, and that he had just made up these phrases. He insisted that he had not. So we did what we always do...we looked it up on the internet.

www.urbandictionary.com
1. big spoon votes: 141 up, 8 down
in spooning, the big spoon is the person in the back
Men are usually the big spoon.

Oops.

Our baby girl

2008-11-16T16:23:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here at my computer, trying to be productive. Meanwhile, I'm being attacked from the inside by little arms and legs. It's wonderful. Which leads me to this post. Please pray for our little girl. We have learned in the past few weeks that she has a heart defect. In the simplest terms, two of the vessels that leave her heart are connected to each other, and her aortic arch is on the right (instead of the left) side of her body. The heart itself appears to be fine and working as it should. We do not know what this will mean for her in the future. It could be that she will need surgery after she is born. We have an appointment with a pediatric cardiologist in December to learn more.

We appreciate your prayers during this time, though I insist that this is not a time for worry. God has shown me over and over again that He is my comfortor, provider, and lover of my soul. I have always clung to Philippians 4:6-7 in times of struggle and therefore feel a peace that transcends understanding. Our pastor shared in church today that the most repeated command in the Bible is to not fear. God knows our tendencies and knows that they lead to nothing but further anxiety. So please pray for continued peace and trust in Him.

"I CAN do it!"

2008-11-10T15:34:00.001-05:00

These were the words that Owen declared today after he successfully peed in the potty. For those of you who have been following this journey, you know that this is HUGE. Granted, he peed in his underwear (and subsequently on the floor) twice today too (before and after potty success), but who gives a crap. For months we have been going through the same steps (every month or so with breaks inbetween): Owen drinks a lot, holds his pee as long as possible, agrees to sit on the potty for a little while, then starts crying and declaring that his belly hurts. He then asks to have a diaper put on. Well today I decided we were going to try to get past this last stage. Hence, the potty in the middle of the living room. I'll spare you the details, but I will say that it was quite the mental battle. But the moment he made his proud declaration and smiled that amazing smile, it was all worth it.

Owen wanted me to take the next picture. This is the Lightning McQueen car that has been perched on our bathroom cabinet for months, neatly packaged, waiting for Owen to pee in the potty just once in order to be claimed. He didn't put the car down until we made him sit it beside his bed at naptime. That was a hard-earned prize. Please pray that this is the beginning of many more potty adventures.

Obligatory Halloween Photos

2008-11-09T15:13:00.000-05:00

No, he is not dressed up as a farmer. For those of you who do not live in my toddler-infused world, this is Bob the Builder. He felt very insecure about his hat, so he insisted on holding it on in the pictures. The rest of the time, his daddy carried it or wore it. My favorite part of trick-or-treating this year was the neighbor (who doesn't have any kids yet) who held out the giant bucket of candy, somehow thinking that letting a 3 year old pick his own candy was a good idea. Pan right to find mommy running up the sidewalk to stop cute little boy from cleaning out naive neighbor.
This is Owen's best friend, Evie--as you can tell by the delighted smile on his face. We stopped by our church's Harvest Festival just so he could say hi. By the way, can I just say that part of me is a little dubious over the label "harvest festival?" It's on Halloween. We're not fooling anyone.
And last, but not least, Owen enjoying the fruits of his labor. Nevermind that these "fruits" were made by Mike & Ike (thought you might appreciate that Uncle Daniel) and probably don't contain an ounce of fruit.

Unexpected Giddiness

2008-11-04T23:06:00.000-05:00

I have no desire to be controversial or polorizing right now, but sitting here with my laptop in front of my t.v., there's no way I can refrain from blogging. This is amazing. We are part of an unbelievable moment in U.S. history. I don't care what party you support, how can you not feel proud to be part of a country that has made huge advancements in overcoming racism? Maybe I'm just getting older, but this election has been so exciting to me. I actually felt a little giddy as I voted today. Not because I had any expectations about how the vote would turn out. I think my enthusiasm stems from the fact that so many people are invested in this election. Even the middle school girls that I lead have been excited about the candidates and wanting to talk about politics. Today has been a very cool experience.

Owen's Birthday

2008-11-03T14:59:00.001-05:00

While on our two week sabatical, Owen had his third birthday. We had a wonderful time hanging out with family at my parents' house. Owen was a bit overwhelmed by the number of presents, but he certainly enjoyed playing with new toys and getting lots of hugs from the people who don't get to see him enough. And who can complain about cake and ice cream?

And at the end of the party, inspired by Will's newly-aquired golf clubs, the boys had to go outside and get in a little man-time.

Boston

2008-10-31T22:14:00.000-04:00

Since so much has happened over the past few weeks, I'm going to try and split this into a few different blogs. After New York we spent four days with two of our very best friends, Holly and Justin, in Boston. One of our adventures included cooking live lobsters (it is New England after all). Here is one of the live ones. I believe he's the one who tried to crawl away. Being lobster-cooking virgins, the three of us left it up to Will to "take care of them." He has now decided to never do that again. He's okay with putting knives in living people, not so much through lobsters apparently.

Another fun part of our trip was comparing bellies. You see, Holly and I are two weeks apart in our pregnancies. This also makes for much to share in regards to indigestion, hormones, and eating.

And of course no trip would be complete without a day in the city. We wandered around, checking out crazy city people (i.e. lady in kelly green hose and shoes), eating at Mike's Pastry, admiring the harbor and Boston Commons. It was wonderful, not just the city, but the time with dear friends. I miss them already.

Eating Our Way Through New York

2008-10-22T22:55:00.000-04:00

For those of you who don't know, we were in New York for three days this week. Is it just me, or do you tend to never tell anyone about the fun that you had on vacation, even though people always ask, "How was your vacation?" Is it because we don't think people really want to hear about our fun? Or because we don't have the time or desire to share our itinerary with every person who asks? Not sure. But I want to share, so if you don't want to hear about my fun, feel free to move on to checking your email or getting sucked into youtube.

We arrived at JFK on Saturday night. Getting to our hotel in Manhattan involved a tram, a bus, a subway ride, and a walk of several blocks. This took two hours. Will carried both giant bags. He was not excited. I love my husband.

To sum up our trip...it was all about the food. We love to eat good food. The only plans I had made for our trip were see one Broadway show and eat. The first food destination occurred on Sunday at lunch: Juniors. We had brisket with au jus, potato pancakes, and applesauce, finished off with Junior's famous devil food cheesecake. Mmmm. This filled our bellies for the one planned non-eating event, watching Avenue Q. By the way, despite the fact that this show has puppets, do NOT take your children to see it. You might be a little taken aback when you have to explain the birds and bees afterwards due to some puppet indiscretions. The second food destination...Mandoo Bar. Yummy Korean food. Unfortunately, the taxi we caught to get there was not in fact the Cash Cab. Boo. On Monday we did the Greenwich Village Food Tour. Of course we sampled NY style pizza, but also canoli, cheese, risotto, olive oil, salami, and gelato. Later that day, dinner took the prize for most memorable waiter. We couldn't finish all of our food and had no ability to take leftovers with us. The waiter came by and proceeded to have this conversation with Will:

Waiter: You need a box?
Will: No thank you.
Waiter (with puzzled expression): You not finished?
Will: Oh no, I'm done.
Waiter (with suspicious look): Something wrong with food? You not like?

I can't say that we've ever been grilled by a server before. I thought for a second that we were going to have to force the rest of that food down so as to avoid some serious social blunder. But he seemed to understand us not having a refrigerator and let us go. But the last and most memorable eating event occured on Tuesday. We rushed uptown around 11:30, desperate to squeeze in a trip to one of the best sushi restaurants in Manhattan before leaving for the airport at 1:30. We get there right after they open for lunch, feeling underdressed and a little sweaty. The menu is sparse, there are no helpful explanations or pictures of different types of sushi. Willl is afraid that at any moment the chef might come crashing out of the kitchen and accuse me of insulting his skills as a sushi master because I am dipping my eel roll in soy sauce. But it is by far the best sushi that Will has ever had, so the stress was worth it. AND, I got to use one of those crazy fancy toilets. If you have not experienced the $5000 toilet with multiple buttons, heated seat, sprayers and driers, I recommend you find one ASAP. Incredibly entertaining. But don't worry, we didn't just eat. We walked ourselves silly getting to all of these restaurants. And we spent time lounging in Central Park, walking by the river in Battery Park, and visiting the World Trade Center site. It was fantastic. I'd go every year if I could.

The Chick Problem

2008-09-29T22:44:00.001-04:00

Will is finishing a string of night shifts tonight, which means I watched a few movies during the past few days after putting Owen to bed. It just so happens that two of them were chick flicks. And after watching the second one tonight, I had the same fleeting thought that occured after the first one....something along the lines of, "I wish Will would do that." And immediately after the thought, I became aggitated with myself. Because I know that these movies are not REAL! And then I felt compelled to send out a message to all of the women who might be reading this: chick flicks are porn for women. I didn't invent this idea. One of my good friends and I have discussed this before. But it is so true. These movies do not present men in a realistic fashion. Yet we watch them and yearn to have the same things said to or happen to us. Don't get me wrong, my husband is a wonderful man. God has blessed me with an exceptional marriage. But Will does not write me love poems, light candles all around our house, confess his feelings for me to strangers in eloquent ways, and rush towards me across a room to kiss me with supreme gusto. I watch these films, and part of me becomes unsatisfied with the amazing relationship that I have with my husband. This is not Will's fault. However, I'm sure there have been times in my life when I've ended up going to him in tears to tell him that I need him to be more romantic, most likely because I recently received some false notion from Hollywood of what defines love.

I Corinthians 4-7: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Nowhere in there does it say anything about flowers, candles, gifts, grand romantic guestures, or waxing eloquent. My husband loves me in ways that I can't describe. And ways that the Lord already put on paper for me in the above verse. Yet I find myself yearning for what the world defines as love. Silly me.

Angry Baby

2008-09-25T21:10:00.001-04:00

I thought the vomiting had ended. It had been about nine days since the last unfortunate episode. However, Wednesday morning I was brushing my teeth, and as I went to spit out my toothpaste, I got more than I was expecting. Owen was right outside the bathroom. He walked to the doorway and asked suspiciously, "What are you doing, Mommy?" I told him I was sick, and he declared, "I'm going to shut the door, so I won't be scared." When I came out out he asked if I was still sick. I explained that I was fine, but that sometimes when mommies have babies in their bellies, it makes them throw up. His next question was the kicker..."Is the baby still angry?" This led to discussion of the fact that the baby isn't angry with me, it's just the way God made pregnancy. Thus Owen's next associative declaration..."God is in my belly." I know this sounds strange, but lately he asked where Jesus lives and my answer was "our hearts." He knows that the baby is in Mommy's "belly." Bellies and hearts aren't very far apart, so you can see how this might confuse a two-year old. Big questions for such an early age. We'll be discussing politics next month.

Television

2008-09-15T16:46:00.000-04:00

Owen loves watching television. As his mother, I'm doing my best to keep this under control. I'm one of those moms who is super grateful that he will indeed sit down and watch something when I'm desperate for half an hour to get something done, but try very hard to limit this obsession. So we have an arrangement...one tv show in the morning, one after nap (God bless the people who invented tivo). Which leads to my story. Saturday morning Owen awoke early, ate breakfast, and watched Thomas the Tank Engine. Will got up soon thereafter, so I took the opportunity to go upstairs and shower. As I was walking around upstairs, getting ready to go shopping, I heard Will and Owen discussing watching tv, so I called down to remind Owen that he had already watched his morning program. He then said, "Hey Daddy, how 'bout when Mommy goes shopping, we can watch a tivo show. That's a good idea." Hilarious. I don't think he was trying to be deceptive. It's not like he tried to whisper it. But he's learning to work the system. Of course, when I got home, he immediately said with a big smile, "Mommy, I watched Bob the Builder!"

Work on the House

2008-09-09T15:01:00.000-04:00

We're having a little work done at our house. Nothing huge, just a couple of ceilings being replaced. Apparently the former homeowners thought that if you have a giant hole in your plaster ceiling, the best way to repair that is to throw quarter-inch plywood over the whole shebang and roll it down with some textured paint. Seriously. The comment from one of the workers was, "I've been doing this for a long time, and I've never seen anything like this." I'd love to have a chat with the do-it-yourselfers who used to live here. Find out if they were doing drugs at the time. But anyways...Owen loves having people working in the house. He would sit and watch them for hours if we let him (and probably run and get his "tools" to help). Today after we arrived home from the grocery store, I ran upstairs to put some clothes in the wash. I came back downstairs to discover that Owen had gone out on the deck where the guys were eating lunch. They had given him a cookie. He was happily showing them his Thomas book. He looked at me and said, "Mom, why don't you go back inside." This brought hardy laughter from the workers. One declared, "He wants to hang out with the guys, Mom." My son cracks me up.

She-she poo-poo

2008-09-04T22:56:00.000-04:00

One of my best friends uses the above phrase occasionally. Being able to understand context clues, I have come to interpret her use of it to mean what us country folks might call high falutin'. So for some reason, I was thinking about this tonight and wondered, who originated this phrase? I assume my friend didn't make it up all by herself (though her family does have a history of making up words ;-) To the internet I ran. Isn't it amazing what you can learn on the internet?! And so I found a website started by a Ms. Taylor Sparks, which contained this heading: "What is She-She/Poo-Poo Time™ ? She-She, is for women, grown women, only. Poo-Poo, is all about Rest, Relaxation and Replenishment." You might note that she has trademarked this phrase. Amazing. I also noticed that many of the uses of the phrase on blogs and other websites seemed to use it the same way my friend does. So how did that happen? Apparently she didn't intend it to have this definition. However, I couldn't find an actual definition anywhere else. Not even urbandictionary.com. Do any of you have any information about this phrase? You might be thinking that I have way too much time on my hands, but cut me some slack. I was an English major. Stuff like this fascinates me.

My Awesome Husband

2008-08-21T10:47:00.000-04:00

For the past month or so I've been the worst housekeeper ever. The nausea has left me wanting to do absolutely nothing, so I considered it an accomplishment to plan meals, go to the grocery store, and do the laundry--all while keeping Owen alive. Everything else was left to the dust mites. My sweet husband has not complained once. You may think to yourself, of course he shouldn't complain. But this is a man who works ridiculous hours. Who also has to work on research projects and personal statements and attend crazy conferences where he has to participate in a super-nerdy form of Jeopardy. The pinnacle of my appreciation for him came yesterday though. I realized that at some point he had scrubbed both of the toilets in the house. I made a point to tell him how much I appreciated that, and he told me that he was worried I would become nauseous and have the situation made worse by bad smells from the toilet. Maybe some of you are reading that and thinking, "gross," but my heart was warmed.