Close, But No Cigar

I never liked cigars anyway.

Though I am a tad disappointed in myself for not completing my goal of posting every day in November, it was so worth it to take a break this weekend.

I went away. To a land far, far from home. Where my cell phone had no bars. Where the internet had no name.

Instead of looking at a computer screen, I looked at this, right outside our cabin window:


And, I got to do it with 20 teenagers.

Way better than a cigar!

Thank You.

My Heart

Prayer.

It’s a simple word for a seemingly simple subject.

I believe in God, I believe He listens, I believe in a relationship with Him, therefore I pray.

I wish I could leave it at that and be satisfied. I wish I could drop everything at the feet of Jesus and and let Him answer and guide. I wish I could believe, always, that He is capable of big things. I wish I could give Him the control.

I wish prayer was simple.

For years, I have struggled with the concept of God answering prayer. What do “God’s answers” look like? If I’ve prayed for someone to be healed, and yet they die 3 days later, is that an unanswered prayer? If my best friend lands a great job, while her next door neighbor still struggles to find work, has God answered only one of those prayers?

Over the weekend, I spent a couple of hours at church, listening to a missionary family recount their experiences in China. They told a story of how they prayed with a neighbor, that she would become pregnant after years of infertility struggles. Voila! The next month, their neighbor found herself pregnant. As I listened to this story, I became increasingly agitated and defensive. How is it that God would answer HER prayer and not mine? What about all the other women in this world who struggle so desperately with infertility? Has God forsaken them?

I don’t want to feel abandoned by God. I don’t want to have to explain how He seems to answer some prayers and ignore others.

So, I pray safe.

If it’s Your will for Mrs. Smith to become pregnant, then please bless her with a healthy baby. BUT, if it’s not in Your plan, then give Mrs. Smith the peace she needs to journey this difficult road.

It’s the sort of prayer that gives both God and me an out.

If Mrs. Smith is knocked up next month, then God answered. If Mrs. Smith ISN’T pregnant, then God still answered, and a Big Fat Positive on the pee-stick must not have been in His plan. God answers either way. Everyone wins.

Or, maybe, just maybe, I lose out because of my disbelief. Maybe God actually WANTS me to pray big…and believe He’ll answer.

I have never prayed for Ellie’s healing. Not once. At least seriously. I’ve tried a time or two, but I’ve stopped mid-sentence because it seemed ridiculous. God knows my heart, my inner-most thoughts. He knows I don’t believe it’ll happen. There is no cure for cerebral palsy. I’ve never heard of ANYONE with CP being healed. Just as I wouldn’t pray for someone’s amputated leg to grow back, I wouldn’t ask God to heal a permanent brain injury.

So, rather than make a farce of God’s omnipotence and highlight my lack of faith, I pray safe. I pray for His will to be done. I pray for peace.

Peace is a good thing. Walking in God’s will is a good thing. And when I pray for these things to happen, both in my life and in the lives of others, I really mean it. I really want it. I really believe God can deliver.

But, today, my heart is being tugged. Yanked so hard that it hurts. I feel it. I hear it.

I hear HIM.

Pray BIG, Chrystie. And believe that I can do it.

Perhaps I have to start “small”. I still can’t pray for complete healing. I can’t yet beseech God to perform a miracle I don’t believe in. But, there are “smaller” miracles that I’m ready to pray for, to believe He can perform them.

Yesterday, in the quiet of my dark room, I succumbed to the tug.

Please, God, guide the scheduling of Ellie’s surgery. I know you can fit her into Dr. Steinbok’s schedule before Jan. 19th. I know You can. I know You can.

And then, with tears streaming down my face, I went one step further. Literally.

God, I pray for FOUR INDEPENDENT STEPS. No walker. No canes. They don’t have to be pretty or balanced. Four steps. All on her own.

Pray big. Believe.

Amen.

Grrrrr....

Ok, kids.

I need your prayers. Richard needs your prayers because I need your prayers. And, Ellie, well, she needs your prayers because her mommy and daddy are on the brink of losing it.

I haven't yet blogged about this, but last week, the Vancouver neurosurgeon's nurse called to reschedule Ellie's SDR (spine) surgery. I thought someone had punched me in the gut. I had not anticipated it. I was not prepared for it.

It was frustrating that I couldn't even get snippy with the nurse because the change of schedule was for valid reasons. A little boy with a seizure disorder was experiencing up to 100 seizures per day. The seizures were being managed with medication, but only temporarily. The boy needs brain surgery and January 5th is now his day.

Ellie's surgery was bumped to January 19th. I know that it's only 2 weeks. BUT. So much is planned. Plane tickets are booked. Accommodations are secured (and paid for). Plans for post-op therapy are in place. I'm finished work as of January 1st. Two weeks puts a wrench in a lot of plans.

A good cry and a Tylenol-PM induced sleep can calm a chaotic and distressed heart. I had just begun to feel okay about things again. I was looking at the positives: Ellie doesn't have to be quarantined over Christmas now, we won't have to deal with holiday airport traffic, I can get a few more things done around the house during the first two weeks of January.

But. BUT.

The nurse just called again. It doesn't work for one of the members of Ellie's surgery team to be there on the 19th. Back to the drawing board. This time, she just left us in limbo. We no longer have a surgery date.

I just sent the nurse an email, trying to plead my case and informing her of all the plans we've made (and how much each day of surgery delay is costing us). I also told her that we would take ANY date, even one next week. Will this email work? I don't know.

LET'S PRAY IT DOES.

So much of this surgery is about mental preparation for me. Knowing the date calms my heart. Knowing when it will be over lessens my anxiety. Planning keeps me sane.

Just please pray. Pray that by a miracle we can get in for the surgery before the end of January. Pray that my heart will beat with patience and understanding, not with fear and worry. And, always, always, pray that we do what's right for Ellie.

Thanks y'all.

Saturday Stories, Part III (The Late Edition)

I know the timing is impeccable, with it being American Thanksgiving this week, but this story actually takes place in October, during Canadian Thanksgiving. See, this story marries my two worlds. Awe, precious moments...

Thanksgiving Surprise
By Chrystie

My extended family goes to the bustling metropolis of Grand Forks, North Dakota every Thanksgiving. And when I say EVERY Thanksgiving, I mean EVERY. THANKSGIVING. They started this tradition before I was even born. To me, Thanksgiving weekend is not about turkey or cranberry sauce. It’s about shopping at Target, eating at a local dive of a buffet restaurant, and swimming. It’s about sitting poolside till we get kicked out and modeling our new Christmas dresses. Thanksgiving ROCKS in my world.

I absolutely LOVE the fact that Ellie can now make this HER (Canadian) Thanksgiving tradition. She loves spending time with all her cousins (1 first cousin and 7 second-cousins). She delights in zipping around from hotel room to hotel room, saying hi to Aunties, Uncles, Oma, Opa, Grandma, etc. She also adores swimming.

I, on the other hand, do not. Nor does Richard.

BUT, I want Ellie’s Thanksgiving memories to be as fond as mine. So, during that weekend, I unenthusiastically throw on the ole bathing suit once or twice a day, and lug the sweet girl to the pool.

Now, in order to fully grasp the climax of this story, you have to understand how full the hotel is during Thanksgiving weekend. We book our rooms 2 years in advance. Every room is taken. The hotel swarms with Canadian families, spending the long weekend in the States. Families who, like mine, gather poolside to play games or chit-chat.

And, in order to get from our room to the pool, I have to walk past quite a few of these aforementioned families.

Carrying Ellie to the pool means that the only real portion of my body exposed to the hotel world is my backside. My way-too-overgrown backside. The “if my pants fit in the waist, they’re always too small for my butt” backside.

But, for Ellie, I waddle my way to the pool, allowing everyone a front row seat to the booty parade.

Fast forward to Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend. It was our second day in Grand Forks and it was my third time swimming. Ellie and I had a grand ole time in the pool, and we were back in the room, changing out of our wet swimsuits.

Richard was in the main room, changing Ellie back into her clothes. I was in the bathroom, taking off my swimsuit.

It was the first time I actually LOOKED at my bathing suit before hanging it up on the shower curtain rod. The first time I saw IT. I screamed in horror! “OH. MY. WORD.!!!”

This is what I heard, coming from Richard’s voice in the other room:

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that your swimsuit is all worn out in the butt and you can see through it. You should get a new one.”

WHAT???

Third time swimming. Third time walking past a hotel full of guests. Third time I actually stopped to talk to people on my way to and from the room and pool. Third time everyone got a perfect view of my butt crack.

First time I noticed anything wrong with my bathing suit. First time Richard mentioned anything.


Aren't you glad I'm giving you the PG-rated visual? That seam in the middle of my hand is where the ole butt crack would be. Explanation enough?!

The good thing is that it takes a lot to embarrass me. Because Ellie had such a good time in the pool, I wasn’t sorry that I sauntered my naked-butt around the hotel. But, it would have been nice to have known about my transparent bathing suit so I could have worn a towel or bee-lined my way to and from the pool.

Needless to say, I bought a new swim suit. No more traumatizing innocent bystanders.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Bama Birthday

Today is "Southern Papa"s birthday. Southern Grandpa bleeds crimson, so Ellie made a little video for him. Precious Little Tide-girl she is! Happy Birthday, Southern Grampa/Dad!



PS: The Saturday Story is still coming, I promise!

PPS: I am always open to blogging suggestions, especially this month! Bring 'em on...

Surprise!

I know I owe you a Saturday story. I have one, but it may have to be a "Sunday Story" now, because I have a special surprise today! A GUEST BLOGGER.


Give him a round of cyber applause. (Clap, clap, clap...)


Since it's American Thanksgiving this week, I figured THE.AMERICAN. should be the one to post a Thankful List today. (Is it apparent that this every day blogging gig is killin' me??) Take it away, Richie!

-----------------------

Thanks for that intro! I guess I'll do a "Thanksgiving thankfulness" post a week(ish) early, since we'll be off to camp next week with our fantastic group o' yutes. And on that note, I'll dive right in, saying I'm thankful for:

• The aforementioned youths! We have a great bunch of kids in our youth group, and it's been a fantastic blessing to both get to know new ones every year and to see the others mature as their 3 year stints with us go by.
• Continuing on that theme: the entirety of our church. Scroll down a few posts and you'll see a great example of why. Couldn't ask for a better, friendlier, or more supportive group of people.
  
• Cake mixes and pudding (hey, this doesn't have to all be deep). Take 1 yellow cake mix, add in a pudding mix to the batter (lemon and white chocolate are quite good), and you've got an extra-yummy cake w/o much work.
• My family. Yes, it's a cliche, but I can hardly leave it off. The upbringing I was given by my mom, and the support that's now provided even over the long distances, just can't be beat. And my "newer" family (aka C's side) has made me feel as welcome as can be, to where they all feel like long-time friends & family as well. (Wait, we've been married nearly 10 years now, so I guess that is long-time. Yikes!)
• Winning the cribbage tournament in Grand Forks. Because it's also fun to beat said family on occasion. (High-five, Ross!)
  
• The Internet. Beyond the typical reasons for which a geek like me can list (astronomy & gaming blogs, anyone?), there's the fact that its existence means I can have a job where I can still work with the same great group of people that I did TX, and will still be able to do so when we go away for E's therapy. And on top of that, E can video chat with her "sussern gramma"!
  
• The thus-far mild winter. Because I am not thankful for needing a snow shovel. To all my southern friends I say: snow is nice for the first month or two. The next 4-5... well, it's no coincidence that no one seems to visit us mid-winter. That is, with the exception of my parents & brother, who all vowed to never do that again.
• Last but most of all: my 2 girls, young & even younger! (Brownie points: +1)

And now, 2 more things I'm thankful for are calling: Tivo & college football. All we need is some turkey, and it'd be just like Thanksgiving!

Bonus Points Day

(We do not have Sonic up here in Maple Leaf land. That fact alone almost kept us in Texas...)

Friend of a Friend of a Friend of a Friend...

Blogland is a funny place. Funny in a "small world" kind of way. A link to a link to a link gets you straight to a blog worthy of stalking.

My friend Andrea, who has a daughter with CP, has a great blog. In one of her posts, long ago, she mentioned her friends, Amy and Josh, who were on their way to Africa to bring home their son Silas. A few months later, I noticed that my Bama-friend, Laura, had MET Amy at a bloggy-get-together for those who have adopted children from Ethiopia. Fun times!

I usually like to keep my blog-stalking on the down-low, for fear that the author will think I'm a freakshow, but today, Amy has lured me out of my crazy shell. She's enticed me with a PRESENT. Oh, materialistic and weak am I!

BUT, it's clothed in the premise of a "good cause". So, I feel a bit better. Amy and Josh are in the process of adopting their second baby from Africa. They are naming her Olive, which I LOVE LOVE LOVE. They are also trying to raise a bit of cash for their travel expenses (I hate how expensive adoption is, grrr). The creator of this AWESOME jewellery is giving a portion of her profit to the Bottomly's, to help with adoption costs. LOVE IT.

Amy, bless her heart, is going to give away a necklace to a blogger who mentions Junk Posse Jewellery on their site. I want the necklace. Tee hee!

The stuff is AMAZING:

I love it all. And I love the precious babies that have come into my life as a result of adoption. My heart is smiling.

See, sometimes a little stalking can be good for the soul.

Send it!

This is definitely being sent to our (okay, RICHARD'S) federal representative. LOVE this!



Dear [ Representative / Senator ]:

More than 47 million Americans— disproportionately African-Americans, Hispanics and the working poor— are uninsured. As a result, they lack ready access to care, which causes unnecessary deaths, increases morbidity among the acutely and chronically ill and results in higher costs. This situation is immoral and intolerable.
I call upon the U.S. Congress to enact bipartisan legislation that assures access without barriers to affordable, basic, quality health care for all.

Specifically, I urge Congress to:

Support a health care system in which risks, costs and responsibility are shared by all. There is enough for all, if all share health care resources, recognize limits and seek to be caretakers of health. We can learn from the experience of countries with exemplary records of assuring access and controlling costs. In these countries, health care is seen as a human or social right that helps bind a society together. Those with means help to shoulder the cost for those without, and costs are controlled with cooperative bargaining power.

Eliminate financial and health status as barriers to health care access. My faith tradition teaches me that special care is to be extended to the weakest and most vulnerable members of society. Health care for all joins the United States with all other developed countries in providing basic, affordable health care for all.

Strengthen public health systems in order to help create healthy communities. In order to effect long-term improvement in our nation’s overall health, increasing access to health care must go hand in hand with improving public health and reducing poverty. Public health measures will help eliminate unhealthy environmental factors, provide education and incentives for healthy life-style choices and inform the public about the effectiveness and efficiency of health care measures.

Support and strengthen public insurance programs for vulnerable populations while comprehensive reform is being enacted. Programs such as Medicaid and the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP) currently provide health coverage for more than 50 million individuals— including children and adults in low-income families, the elderly and the disabled. Still, many people who need coverage do not qualify and many states and programs don’t cover needed services.

Openly address issues of quality, efficiency and limits. The quality of health care delivery is profoundly uneven— even for those with insurance— and sizable health care costs are due to advertising, administration and redundant tests. No system can afford to give everyone every medical procedure or treatment that they want or from which they might benefit.

As a Christian, I believe that a biblically-compatible health care system will celebrate God’s generous provision of resources, assuring enough for everyone when shared equitably by all; promote the flourishing of the whole community, including each of its members; and protect the well-being of the weakest and most vulnerable members of society.

Sincerely,
[ Your Name ]

Braid-y Bunch

I cannnot express how much I love my childcare provider. LOVE her. Here is just another reason why:

When I dropped Ellie off at 8:00 in the morning, her hair was strewn into a quick (read: kinda ugly) ponytail. This is what she looked like when I picked her up:

PRECIOUS!!

The Day After...

Ah, the emotional and physical exhaustion left from yesterday has passed (I love me some Tylenol PM!), and it's time to start a new week.

Several people have asked me how our fundraiser went. Some have been bold enough to ask how much we made, and the more "polite" folk have been hoping I'd give up that information without being questioned.

So, drum roll....

$7200.

GOD IS GOOD!

It still overwhelms me. A couple bowls of a soup and a piece of pie. That's all we gave people for lunch. And they gave us so much more. SO MUCH MORE.

I opened one envelope last night. It only took one for me to realize that I couldn't do it. I could not open each envelope, take out the check, read the name on the upper left hand side, then view the dollar amount. I couldn't separate my head from my heart, the numbers from the names. I didn't want to know who gave what.

So, I made Richard do it. All of it. He's amazing that way.

I just know the final figure. And I know I am thankful. Thankful for the person who folded up a $5 bill into a teeny-tiny piece that fit perfectly in the bottom corner of the envelope. Thankful for the people who probably wrote checks for hundreds of dollars. So very thankful.

Here's what a church-gym full of love looks like:




And here's why they love:

Beyond Thankful

Fundraiser-lunch today at church. I'm feeling so very overwhelmed with gratitude. There are no words. So, in lieu of, here is the video montage I made for our little "sharing time" in the church service this morning.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

I'm going to exhale now...

Saturday Stories, Part II

Ellie was not a “good” baby. Oh, she was insanely cute, but she was reminiscent of that nursery rhyme character, Curl-Gurl:

There was a little girl who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead;

When she was good, she was very, very good,

And when she was bad she was horrid.

Except she didn’t actually have hair until she was 2 years old. Otherwise, though I loved her with every fiber of my being, she WAS pretty horrid as a baby.

(I am certain that someone will read this entry and sigh with indignation, as they judge my mothering as unfit. Oh well…)

Ellie cried A.LOT. And she slept VERY.LITTLE. It was a terrible combo. So terrible, in fact, that my Stay-At-Home-Mom job lasted all of four months. I went back to work and just about kissed Carlin, our fantabulous nanny, every time she walked into the door. She was so wonderful with Ellie and *I* was a much better mother after “escaping” to the adult world for a few hours each day.

The problem was that Carlin wasn’t around at night. She wasn’t there to take over at 3am, when Ellie had been crying for an hour and no sign of tiring was in sight.

Richard and I were REALLY tired. REALLY, REALLY tired.

So, one morning, after an extremely tough night, I came up with a brilliant idea: Let’s call in sick to work (because lack of sleep can definitely count as sickness), and when Carlin comes to the house, let’s go to a hotel room and sleep.

Yes, SLEEP.

Richard was game. So, I got on the phone. I called the Comfort Inn near our house, thinking it might be the cheapest local option. The front desk clerk answered and I said,

“Do you rent rooms for half-days? We only need a room for a few hours this morning.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Eventually, the clerk replied with,

“Um, I’ll have to check on that. Cuz, we’re not really THAT kind of hotel, you know.”

Not only will sleep deprivation make you crazy and sick, it will also make you clueless. It wasn’t till after my glorious nap that I realized what he meant.

I guess his manager didn’t care how they made a buck that day, because we were allowed to rent a room for the morning at half the price. Richard checked us into the room and I remember the clerk looking down at our hands; at our ring fingers. OF COURSE, it just so happened that I wasn’t wearing my rings that day. My fingers were still afflicted with the “pregnancy puff” , and my rings were too small.

Once I put it all together, I realized that the front desk clerk (and most likely all the staff who heard his story) thought that I was a hooker-mistress, and we were renting the room for a few hours on our illicit rendezvous.

Tee hee.

‘Course, the clerk would have been really shocked had he walked into our room at any point during the morning. He would have seen two people, each on their own bed, fully clothed, sound asleep. I’m not even sure I got my shoes off before hitting the pillow.

It was a great nap. And I’m sure we gave a few Comfort Inn employees some good, juicy office-gossip laughs. So, win-win.

And, just for the record, Ellie grew out of her horridness a few months later and was replaced with straight-haired sweetness.

The End

Thanks

Friday Thankfuls:

1) I'm thankful for my down comforter. I am such a bedding diva. I LURVE me some nice bedding and am a spoiled brat when it comes to 500 thread count or higher. Nothing tops that first blankie-snuggle at the end of a long day.

2) I'm thankful that I made my annual Christmas CD purchase (I allow myself only one per year, otherwise I'd go broke growing my Christmas repertoire. AND, I realize that I should stop buying CDs and join the 2000s by downloading MP3s instead, but it just isn't the same. I am old and I'm learning to embrace it.):

I listened to the CD on the way home from Christmas shopping today and it is everything I hoped it would be. Not country-ish at all.

3) I'm thankful for Dollar Stores. We came home with a TON of stuff to do when Ellie's on quarantine over Christmas (doctor's orders are that we keep her from public places and large gatherings for a couple weeks before surgery, so as to increase her chances of staying healthy). And all for $20. Gotta love cheap junk!

4) I'm thankful for our amazing respite worker/babysitter/friend/teacher (etc, etc), Tess. She did TRIPLE duty this week when a couple of unexpected things came up. She also cared for Ellie on a holiday morning, so that I could help make soup for our lunch fundraiser on Sunday. Seriously. How amazing is that? She is just an angel.

5) I'm thankful that I made this list in under five minutes so that I can join my dreamboat downstairs for our "CSI" DVR marathon date. Gotta love Friday nights!

Peace Out

While walking to the cafeteria for lunch today, I was brainstorming blog-post ideas. (This blogging-every-day thing is A LOT more difficult than I thought it was going to be. Grump.) I was making some mental notes when all of a sudden I felt a pair of arms around my shoulders.

It was a sweet junior high girl giving me a hug.

She’s a precious one and I gladly accepted and returned the hugging favor. Then she asked me,

“Are you at peace today?”

Okay. What the heck does she mean?

I replied, with my hand making the peace sign, “As in, am I groovy?”

“No, no,” the girl responded, “I mean, are you at peace about Ellie’s surgery?”

Oh, that kind of peace. I should have realized that’s what a THIRTEEN YEAR OLD junior high student, stopping me in the school hallway, on my way to lunch, would have meant by “peace”.

Now, I wasn’t surprised that this girl would ask me questions about Ellie. There are several students attending the school in which I work who either go to church with us, or know of Ellie through their friends. Ellie has become a bit of a celebrity around the school, as kids pray for her and often come up to the library and ask to see the latest Ellie-pictures. PRECIOUS, I know.

Just as I had formulated my response to her question, the girl continued talking,

“I just wanted to tell you that you should have peace about Ellie’s surgery. Because, guess what? I had the same surgery when I was little! And it turned out great! I felt so much better afterward! My parents were freaking out before the surgery, too. But, I know that Ellie will be fine, just like I was.”

Wow, this was new information to me. “What kind of surgery did you have?” I asked

“Oh, I had tubes put in my ears.”

Yes. JUST. LIKE. ELLIE'S.

I stood there for a second, not sure how to respond. On the one hand, I wanted to verbally pinch her for comparing spine surgery with ear tubes. But, when I looked at her lovely face, I realized that she was just trying to help. In a thirteen-year-old way.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re a sweet ball of encouragement!”

While this dear girl hasn’t a hot clue how different “ear tubes” and “cutting the nerves on the spine” are, she was loving me, loving Ellie. And I really appreciated that. What more could you ask for, really? I work in a school where the kids know and adore my kid. THAT Is a gift.

And, the icing, of course, is that she gave me a blog topic! Sweet thing!

Remembering Summer...

I've been busy today, on this holiday, making a slide show of Ellie for her big church fundraiser on Sunday. It's been fun going through old pictures and realizing how far Ellie's come.

In the midst of the photo-scrounging, I realized that I still haven't posted pics of "hair-did" Ellie from this past summer. PERFECT opportunity for an easy blog post, now that I'm computered-out for the day. :-)

Thanks to "Southern Grandma" for bringing along her fantabulous camera and taking all these pictures. Richard only has one sibling, a brother, so his mom savours the Princess moments with Jelly B'Ellie, so I'm glad she was here to share it with us!

Is she beeeooooteeful or what?!

Cheater, Cheater, Peanut-Butter-Pasta Eater!

Today is my Bonus Points Day.

Ever been on Weight Watchers? Then you know all about Bonus, or flex, points. Every food is assigned a point value. Weight Watchers then gives you a "total points you should consume in one day" limit, and you're supposed to stop eating once you've hit your point max. BUT, they also give you some "Bonus Points" which can be used for cheating at any point during the week.

I LOVE me some bonus points.

I'm using those blogging bonus points up today. I'm tired. I have plans tonight. I don't feel like writing.

While I'm using my Blogging Bonus Points to bypass a useful post today, this is what I'd use my points on in the real world:


Thai Chicken Pasta from Cheesecake Factory and

Pudding cake, straight from the kitchen of Chrystie's Mom.

Mmmm!

Say Cheese!

How the heck did she get old enough for SCHOOL pictures?! Or, maybe the better question is: When did they start taking pictures in NURSERY school?!



Whatever the case, the pics turned out better than I expected. Ellie is notorious for the "deer in the headlights" look when posing for photos and a stranger is behind the camera. *I* wasn't there to scold her and/or bribe her with Princess Stickers either. Not sure how it was accomplished in MY absence, but Miss R, Ellie's teacher, not only got her to look at the camera, but her tongue is inside her mouth and she's curling up the sides of those lips in a semi-smile. What happened to my baby NEEDING me for all these things?!

Her class picture is beyond precious, but I wasn't sure if it was against the cyber rules to post it. I'll err on the side of caution (and not wanting to be beaten up by some of those crazy mama and papa bears!) and keep it from my blog. BUT, I will sheepishly admit that I was so happy that Ellie was sitting in a regular chair, just like the other kids, lookin' like a typical 4-year old. AND, she wasn't the only kid with glasses either! Petty observations, I know, but sometimes I'm a bit crazy that way.

Day of Rest

This is literally the only picture I have of non-newborn Ellie sleeping. And certainly the only picture I have of her sleeping in the car. The girl is hardcore during the day. We flew back from Alabama at midnight last winter and she didn't sleep a wink. She kept hitting her face and saying, "Don't sleep!" when she started dozing off. Crazy kid.

Happy Sunday!

Saturday Stories, Part 1

Thirty posts in thirty days requires some creativity. So, welcome to the first edition of “Saturday Stories”. Funny stories. “You had to be there” stories. Pathetic stories. You never know what a November Saturday will bring.

The Day The Internet Sucked
Written by Chrystie
Pictures by Richard

It was December, 2000. We had been married for 4 months. Richard had received a job offer from an engineering firm in Dallas, Texas, and we were pumped to spread our wings and act like adults. We were living in Alabama at the time, in the city where Richard had essentially grown up. It was the first time either of us had ventured beyond familiar “Mom and Dad are only a few miles away” borders and we were determined to make the move OURSELVES. We were young, able bodied and ready to rock ‘n’ roll our way to the Lone Star State.

Money was tight. We were both in our early 20s. I had graduated from university only 3 months earlier. We got a nice “moving expenses” check from Richard’s new employer and we wanted to pocket as much of it as possible (ah, the greedy and stupid days…).

Our rent in Alabama was $385 per month. Two bedroom apartment with a fireplace, an in-suite washer and dryer. It was SWEET. We knew that living in the “big city” of Dallas would be a bit more expensive, but we wanted to keep our costs under control.

So, I found us an apartment on the internet. $600 per month for a one bedroom place. Surely, for that kind of money, the place would be decent. SURELY. And the apartment appeared fantastic….on the internet pictures. Clean. Relatively upgraded. Nicely landscaped courtyard. Perfect.

Since a pre-move trip down to Dallas would have bit off a portion of that coveted moving expenses check, we opted to sign a contract on the apartment without actually seeing it in person. Have I mentioned we were young and stupid?!

I probably should have picked up on the leasing agent’s tone of voice when she asked multiple times if I was “sure that I wanted to sign the lease without looking at it” or if I “understood exactly where in the city this apartment (was) located”.

I was reading the map as Richard was maneuvering our big Ryder van. We found our new apartment’s street and started making our way down it. At first, it looked okay. But, as we crossed a few railroad tracks and continued our drive south, the neighborhood changed. Not for the better. I’ll leave it at that.

It was 6:00pm when we arrived at the apartment complex. We had been driving for thirteen hours. We were tired. We were overwhelmed. We were in a really big, strange city. We were driving a massive moving truck. We didn’t have it in us to change our minds. We had signed a six-month lease and that was that.

We had a dog at the time. His name was Charlie (RIP, sweet Chucky). He was ready to get out of the truck. So, first thing I did once we got our apartment keys was tie Charlie up in the kitchen, with a bowl full of food within his reach. I went outside to help Richard park the big yellow truck, and by the time we reentered the apartment 10 minutes later, Charlie’s bowl was CRAWLING. Cuh-rawling. The cockroaches had overtaken his food bowl and the poor cocker spaniel was as stunned as we were.

That was the first “Oh. My. Word.” moment.

There were roaches in the bathtub. There was blood stains on the carpet. There were bugs in the freezer. The courtyard was riddled with cats and dogs. I *think* they were resident’s pets, but who knows.

When Richard and I were about half-way through moving our stuff from the truck to the apartment (remember, we were young and stupid and figured that paying for moving help would be too expensive), a woman stopped me. She introduced herself and then said, “Are you sure you want to live here?” When she heard that I didn’t have a job yet, she said, “If your husband ever has to work late, please come to my place and hang out. You do NOT want to be in one of these apartments by yourself at night.”

Now, I was beyond the “Oh. My. Word” moment. It had turned into a “Get me the craperoozie outta here!” moment.

I cried that entire night. All that independent adult strength was eaten up by our new cockroach neighbors. I boo-hooed to Richard for hours and, for the first time ever in our new marriage, gave him an ultimatum.

Move out of this apartment or I’m going to spend the next six months in Canada, with my parents.

The next day, we signed a new lease in an apartment complex that turned out to be our home for over three years.

A few months after the Roachy-Apartment drama, some of our Alabama friends came to visit. They wanted us to take them to the infamous complex so that they could see with their own eyes just how bad it was. When we turned into the parking lot, we noticed that all the apartment doors had bright green papers stuck to them.

City of Dallas Notice: This complex has been condemned and all residents will need to move within four weeks.

Hi yi yi! If the City of Dallas thinks the place is a mess, it’s BAD. A few months later, we popped by there again and bulldozers had already started demolishing the complex.

Moral of the story: I really, really don’t like roaches

Thank Goodness It's

1.

2. PLUS THIRTEEN (55 f) out today! Perfect weather for Richie's front door-fixing adventure tomorrow.

3. a home game tomorrow. I dunno, y'all. I don't feel good about this LSU game. Why does Florida get Vandy and we get LSU? Not fair (unless we win...then it'll be suh-weet as The Tide jump up the BCS ladder!).

4. a four-day week upcoming. While I will definitely take time to remember the soldiers who have given and continue to sacrifice their lives in service to our amazing country, I am selfishly glad to have a day off....to make soup! Our unbelievable church-family is throwing us a Soup Lunch fundraiser to help offset our surgery and therapy costs. I can't even begin to express my love for them without shedding tears. And I don't feel like boo-hooing today, so I'll just leave it at that.

5. number five, because I really don't feel like blogging today. HA!

Clap On, Clap Off

Sometimes, okay most times, my feelings make no sense. I wish I could contain what spews out of my heart. I wish I could be the master controller of the emotional on-off switch.

I’m surprised at what makes my heart sad and jealous sometimes. When I type it out, and read it aloud, I KNOW that it sounds ridiculous. I KNOW that it’s nonsensical. But it’s real and raw and that’s the way I roll on this blog.

You know what made my heart pang with jealousy today? Hearing the news that a sweet 2-week old baby is home from the hospital after her heart surgery. Now, most everyone would expect me to say that I’m envious of people whose babies are healthy and whose birth experiences were heavenly. But, to be jealous of parents whose baby almost died at birth? THAT is ludicrous!

Believe me, I know that.

Of course, I’m not covetous of their hospital experience. I am empathetic, because I know how heart-wrenching and devastating it can be. I am, however, envious that their baby underwent a successful surgery and, according to doctors, will have no side effects. The sweet little girl will grow up just like her healthy older sisters. She will walk and run. She will talk and learn to read. She will get married and have her own healthy babies.

Or something close to that.

And I am so jealous of those parents, who were able to leave the hospital for good.

I have also become accustomed to skimming the topic headings of my “Parents of Children With CP” message board. Rather than conjure up those nasty feelings of resentfulness, I avoid any threads with “My Kid Took His First Step Today!” or “The Doctor Said My Daughter’s CP is Mild!” titles. My heart writhes with jealousy with I read those words.

Of course, after the envy, my heart and head are quickly flooded with shame. What sort of terrible person begrudges those who have sat in the same NICU, in the same neurologist’s office?

I want so badly to replace the jealousy with joy, the envy with excitement. I want to rejoice when sick babies are made healthy, when kids with cerebral palsy walk independently. I want to scream with delight when a brain injured child is released from speech therapy because she’s now “caught up” with her language.

But how do you force your heart to feel something it doesn’t?

My saving grace is that these feelings of jealousy are usually short-lived. I have learned to shut them out and pull that burning fork of envy from my butt. I have learned to pray for compassion and a soft heart.

I have not yet fully acquired the ability to accept my lot, but I’m working on it. It was not in “the plan” for me to leave Las Colinas Medical Center with a healthy baby or a working uterus. It was not in “the plan” for me to hear the words “mild” while sitting in the neurologist’s office. I don’t know why. I wish it was different. But it’s not.

And, more than anything, I don’t want my perfect Ellie to be fight these demons of jealousy. Her mere presence gives me the determination to pray more, to accept better, to envy less. So that maybe one day I will hear the news of a baby’s hospital release and be filled with JOY. And Ellie and I can do a little happy “dance” when we see one of her therapy buddies running and jumping.

THAT’S what I want for our hearts.

Flushed With Happiness

I've had this post ready for a while, but I've been waiting for the "safe" moment to publish it. I just really, really didn't want to jinx it.

But, today is a good day to announce to the cyber world that...

...MY BABY IS POTTY-TRAINED!!!

It's been in the works for a while. A looonnnggg while. There have been days when I honestly thought that it might not happen; that I'd have to learn to revise yet another dream. I wasn't sure if Ellie was even physically able to control her bladder. A lot of muscles are used when toileting.

But, all summer Ellie's been sportin' the panties (or, "dankies" as she calls them)! She hasn't had an accident in months, so I think we've really crossed the threshold.

Oh, how I wanted this for her. Oh, how I wanted this for me. It's such a big step towards independence. It's also a fantastic indicator of how she's able to control some of her muscles, even when they work against her so much of the time. And her butt is so darn cute in those Princess undies!

The dreamer in me is wondering about the next step. I truly believe it's possible that Ellie will one day walk herself to the bathroom and use it ENTIRELY INDEPENDENTLY. I believe it. And that will be a good, good day. She'll likely prohibit me from posting it or publicly proclaiming it to the world, but I'll be rejoicing in my heart.

So, here's to my rock-star, toilet-using little girl!

Sweet girl is going to KILL me one day for posting this pic, I know!

Three Little Pigs

I got this catalogue in the mail today.

Now, I love me some MCC (Mennonite Central Committee). For those who are unfamiliar with this organization, I consider them to be da bomb of international charities. My Mennonite roots smile with pride, but more than that, I really appreciate MCC's operating budget and the super-high percentage of funds that go directly to "the people".

But, this is more about the catalogue. I know that World Vision sends out similar mail. I'm sure a bunch of other international charities follow suit.

Buy a cow for a family. Dig a well for a village. Sponsor a medical clinic.

All fantastic things. All things that mean so much more than a SpongeBob SquarePants Play-Doh set or an MP3 player with cushion-ey earphones. All things that are much more meaningful than stuff.

But, at what point does the giving of a gaggle of geese become a little over the top?

We are really scaling down our Christmas giving this year. I don't think we'll spend more than $20 on Ellie. Richard and I won't be buying each other gifts AT.ALL. The only other kid that makes the gift list is sweet nephew Zach. But, there are the grandparents and therapists and caregivers who are so very important to us, and I really want to say thank you to them through a small gift.

But, does a cheap Wal-Mart Christmas card and a handwritten note saying, "We bought a pig on your behalf!" express Thank You?

Maybe it does. Maybe I'm being too skeptical. Maybe I like Starbucks gift cards too much.

How do you strike a balance between "commercialized" Christmas gift-giving and "unselfish" gift giving?

This Won't Hurt a Bit...

Last week, we had the glorious opportunity of spending two hours outside, making new friends and entertaining Ellie with “games that can be played while sitting in the stroller”. We were standing in line, waiting to get our H1N1 flu shots. So were a lot of other people. A lot of angry, disgruntled and impatient people.

I had to bite my tongue quite a few times, especially when eavesdropping on a couple of mothers standing behind us in line.

“This is so ridiculous. Which idiot planned this set-up? *I* could have done a better job!”

“They should let us go to the front of the line! We’ve got (able-bodied and apparently healthy) kids with us!”

“It’s like we live in a third world country!”

“I’ve never been subjected to something so barbaric! I can’t believe they’re making us wait so long for a *&%%^# flu shot!”

And so on and so on…

I wanted to turn around and, with controlled anger, pipe, “Aren’t you THANKFUL that we live in a country where this vaccine (and so many others) are available?! Aren’t you THANKFUL that this will probably be the only time you wait in line at any sort of clinic or doctor’s office for the next couple of years?!”

But, Ellie was with me and I didn’t want these crazy mamas to go off and get violent. So, I stayed silent. And then I smiled sadistically as I watched their children throwing tantrums and cussing , while my daughter played happily with her laptop, sitting contently in her stroller.

While I fall short MANY times, I do make a conscious effort to convey thankfulness and patience, especially while in the presence of Ellie. I think that’s one of the reasons why she’s such a happy little chickadee. I notice Ellie’s demeanor change immediately when she senses MY frustration.

So, to self-righteously show-up those two you-know-what’s in the flu shot line, and to model a “good attitude” to sweet Ellie, here is my Top Five List for today (because I have made the crazy promise to blog every day for an entire month, I have given myself the leeway to cut the “Top Ten” lists down to five. HA!):

I am thankful for:

1. HDTV. I actually scowled at Richie when he first signed us up for the HD cable. I thought it was a complete waste of money (and, really, it is). BUT, watching those football player's butts in lycra pants, er, I mean GAMES on HD is da bomb.

2. Daylight at 8:00am. I know that it will be short-lived, but it’s so much easier driving to work in the LIGHT.

3. Such a fun Halloween. It was COLD and Ellie about froze her little fingers off, but she had SO. MUCH. FUN. It gets better every year! Here’s my little pirate (complete with a Canadian Halloween staple: big, bulky, ugly, non-costume matching winter boots):



4. My youth group. Amazing and precious young ‘uns, they are. I am hardly able to keep from sobbing out loud when they pray for us and for Ellie. They are prayer WARRIORS. Hardcore. And they love hardcore. They bless me every second of Thursday night and beyond.

5. Caller ID. No explanation needed.

Just When You Thought I Wasn't Coo-coo-foo-foo Enough...

In my 29 (!) years, I have learned not to publicly commit to something I can't follow through with. Like dieting. NEVER proclaim to the world that you're on Weight Watchers because then everyone is witness to your failure when you eat three pieces of birthday cake at a family party.

But, today, as I bite my fingernails with nervous anticipation, I am declaring to the blog world that I am going to post something EVERY DAY of November.

It's insanity really. November is a freakishly busy month for me, but maybe some blogging will be good therapy. Maybe I need some booty-whoopin' to get back into blogging shape.

Whatever the case, you'll be "seeing" a lot of me in the next 30 days!

Till tomorrow...