Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
It’ll be a long day.
A good day.
A bad day.
It all depends on what view you are looking at it from.
Our daughter is having surgery. Her tonsils and adenoids will be removed. Sometime tomorrow. Later today we’ll know what time her surgery is scheduled. I certainly hope it is not too late in the morning as she is one that has to eat as soon as she gets out of bed. Telling her she cannot eat or drink, will be painful. Probably more painful for me but still painful.
She has huge tonsils. I mean HUGE. Even when she is not sick, they are big. When she is sick, they just about touch. She had strep only three times this year but I believe her sleep is disturbed nearly every night because of those huge tonsils. Her last bout with strep was in November. And even though she seemed better, she had issues. We took her in to see her pediatrician in late December. He put her on an antibiotic and scheduled an appointment with the ENT department. The ENT appointment was on January 6 and surgery was scheduled for January 28.
January 28. Tomorrow.
Stressed.
Scared.
Soon to be relieved.
She was upset when they said they wanted to remove her tonsils. What child wouldn’t be? They gave her a booklet that explained the surgery and by the time I dropped her off at school, she was calm. She has read that booklet numerous times. She probably could recite it, word for word. She knows she’ll feel better. She’ll sleep better. What scares her is the procedure. The “going under” and the big question, “will it hurt?” I will not lie but I told her, your father and I both had our tonsils removed, and we survived. I honestly don’t remember any pain. It was so long ago. I was in second grade.
I thought she had come to terms with it. The surgery. She concentrated on making a list, a long list, of grocery items that she wants to have in the house. Most of the items will have to be kept in the freezer. What kid would refuse making a list to stock a freezer? A list of popsicles and ice cream.
Last night was a rough night. Filled with sobs and a pile of wet tissues. I stayed with her and calmed her down. We talked to her about her fears. I comforted her with hugs and kisses. I told her I was going to be there for her. Before, during (in prayer) and after her surgery. She’ll be fine. I’ll be stressed but fine. The day will be long. The pain inevitable.
Tomorrow…I’m looking forward to taking her home. Caring for her in our comfortable space. Loving her through her pain. Loving her back to health.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Holes in my Heart
Yesterday I learned that my childhood neighbor’s mother passed away. I was saddened. I know the voids that develop in ones heart when a parent dies. It has been 24 ½ years since my father died. Tears still spring to my eyes when I think of him. My heart aches in a way that I cannot describe. I hurt.
Yesterday, I was hurting for 5 friends and their father. I lift them up in prayer, asking our Lord to support them during their time of grief, anger, pain, loss and sadness. I know the next couple of days will pass in a blur. For some of them, they’ll go through the motions, in shock. Disbelief. Then, after the service, when their friends and family members have stopped calling and visiting, they’ll be hit with their loss. I’ll continue to pray for them.
Death. It touches all of us during our life. Last December, we said good bye to my husband’s uncle and my great-aunt. It is never easy and yet, we survive. We continue to live. But death changes us in many different ways.
Death leaves holes in our hearts.
Yesterday, I was hurting for 5 friends and their father. I lift them up in prayer, asking our Lord to support them during their time of grief, anger, pain, loss and sadness. I know the next couple of days will pass in a blur. For some of them, they’ll go through the motions, in shock. Disbelief. Then, after the service, when their friends and family members have stopped calling and visiting, they’ll be hit with their loss. I’ll continue to pray for them.
Death. It touches all of us during our life. Last December, we said good bye to my husband’s uncle and my great-aunt. It is never easy and yet, we survive. We continue to live. But death changes us in many different ways.
Death leaves holes in our hearts.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Me Moments
Selfishness
It's a mood. I experience it at times. It's normal. Most of the time, I am selfish about time. There just never seems to be enough hours in the day. I used to laugh at people when they said that. Now, I completely understand. The wisdom we accumulate over the years; however, I still want my time.
Ideally, those stolen minutes, or if I am lucky, hours of time, are spent reading or crafting. I want to be able to curl up with a soft blanket, a steaming cup of sweetened tea and a good book. I want it to be quiet and I want lots of time. I’d take hours if I could manage to get hours. In the meantime, I'll take what I can get. Just to escape. Occasionally I find that undisturbed hour of time that, selfishly, I take and enjoy. It’s like slipping into a hot bubble bath. I become enveloped in the moment. Usually I can steal some time for me on a weekend when everyone else in the house has already retired. I quietly prepare for my time. I tip-toe to the family room to wrap myself in my moment.
Last night, I was selfish in the kitchen. Usually I bake for the family, a family member, friend or a special occasion. Last night, I was baking for me. Selfish.
I found a recipe for scones that I wanted to try. I LOVE scones. I like the “biscuit-y” texture that they have and the slight sweetness infused by fruit. Why I chose this recipe, I am not sure. After all, I usually want a cranberry-walnut scone but last night I made orange-chocolate chip scones. I am not a big chocolate fan but I made them. I think it was the orange that called out to my senses. They mixed up quickly and baked so very nice. Perfect! They are delicious but not a favorite of mine. I am sure I'll make them again. They'd be a nice addition to a family brunch. In my search for that perfect scone, I shall sit back down with some cookbooks.
All was not lost. My husband liked them and requested that I pack one in his lunch. Our daughter tasted one this morning and asked if she could pack one in her lunch. Obviously she liked them so I'll add this recipe to my growing collection. Personally, I would add more zest to the recipe and swap out the chips for cranberries but that is my preference. My selfishness.
It's a mood. I experience it at times. It's normal. Most of the time, I am selfish about time. There just never seems to be enough hours in the day. I used to laugh at people when they said that. Now, I completely understand. The wisdom we accumulate over the years; however, I still want my time.
Ideally, those stolen minutes, or if I am lucky, hours of time, are spent reading or crafting. I want to be able to curl up with a soft blanket, a steaming cup of sweetened tea and a good book. I want it to be quiet and I want lots of time. I’d take hours if I could manage to get hours. In the meantime, I'll take what I can get. Just to escape. Occasionally I find that undisturbed hour of time that, selfishly, I take and enjoy. It’s like slipping into a hot bubble bath. I become enveloped in the moment. Usually I can steal some time for me on a weekend when everyone else in the house has already retired. I quietly prepare for my time. I tip-toe to the family room to wrap myself in my moment.
Last night, I was selfish in the kitchen. Usually I bake for the family, a family member, friend or a special occasion. Last night, I was baking for me. Selfish.
I found a recipe for scones that I wanted to try. I LOVE scones. I like the “biscuit-y” texture that they have and the slight sweetness infused by fruit. Why I chose this recipe, I am not sure. After all, I usually want a cranberry-walnut scone but last night I made orange-chocolate chip scones. I am not a big chocolate fan but I made them. I think it was the orange that called out to my senses. They mixed up quickly and baked so very nice. Perfect! They are delicious but not a favorite of mine. I am sure I'll make them again. They'd be a nice addition to a family brunch. In my search for that perfect scone, I shall sit back down with some cookbooks.
All was not lost. My husband liked them and requested that I pack one in his lunch. Our daughter tasted one this morning and asked if she could pack one in her lunch. Obviously she liked them so I'll add this recipe to my growing collection. Personally, I would add more zest to the recipe and swap out the chips for cranberries but that is my preference. My selfishness.
Alligator Tears
We have been struggling with combs and brushes lately. Getting our daughter to use a brush twice a day. We were in combat mode. Prevention mode. Survival mode.
I know my expectations were set high. After all, a 10-year old with thick hair down to her shoulder blades, is bound to say her hair is combed out when it is not. In fact, for me to brush it out, took more than a few minutes. Why? When her hair is pulled back and secured in a ponytail, one realizes how THICK her hair is. THICK. So when she is brushing, she isn’t brushing. I am talking about the fine nest of knots that develop at the nape of her neck. These tiny tangles, as I am sure they are at one time, grow rather large in a short span of time. I’m convinced they start when we don’t braid her hair at night and then grow when she doesn’t brush all the way through her hair. Letting her hair just hang all day probably did not help our cause either. They are intricate looking. They test my patience and hers. They are a tangled glob of hair. Finely tangled. Knotted and HUGE.
So after carefully, yet still very painfully, combing out the nest, we wash, condition, comb thoroughly and braid. We braid before she goes to bed so her hair stays neatly untangled. After a day in braids, she lets it fall freely and by the next bath time, we go through the torturous steps to rid her hair of another nest.
She wants to keep her beautiful long hair but I cannot take the pain she goes through each day. We try one suggestion, we try another. Unsuccessfully we end up right back where we started. Combing carefully through a nest of knots that seems to grow larger every time.
Our daughter cries alligator tears as she attempts to comb her hair.
Alligator tears are what I saw on our daughters’ face this past Sunday when I went into the bathroom to see how she was doing with preparing for a bath. Huge tears streaming down her red face. She was trying to brush out her hair and it was killing her. It was killing me. Hair should not be painful. So I suggested my last option. An option I have thrown out to her over the past several weeks.
Cut it off.
She agreed. So I cut six inches off her mane. She was a little worried when she saw the first cut. She even asked me if she could go look in the mirror and see the short and long of it. She returned to the chair and I cut away. She bathed and you know what, no more tears. Who needs Johnson and Johnson? Who needs gallons of Infusium conditioner? All we really needed was my pair of hair shears and an hour of time.
She is still beautiful! Perhaps a little older looking (I’m not fond of that); after all, she is only in middle school. She is short, sassy and loving it!
I know my expectations were set high. After all, a 10-year old with thick hair down to her shoulder blades, is bound to say her hair is combed out when it is not. In fact, for me to brush it out, took more than a few minutes. Why? When her hair is pulled back and secured in a ponytail, one realizes how THICK her hair is. THICK. So when she is brushing, she isn’t brushing. I am talking about the fine nest of knots that develop at the nape of her neck. These tiny tangles, as I am sure they are at one time, grow rather large in a short span of time. I’m convinced they start when we don’t braid her hair at night and then grow when she doesn’t brush all the way through her hair. Letting her hair just hang all day probably did not help our cause either. They are intricate looking. They test my patience and hers. They are a tangled glob of hair. Finely tangled. Knotted and HUGE.
So after carefully, yet still very painfully, combing out the nest, we wash, condition, comb thoroughly and braid. We braid before she goes to bed so her hair stays neatly untangled. After a day in braids, she lets it fall freely and by the next bath time, we go through the torturous steps to rid her hair of another nest.
She wants to keep her beautiful long hair but I cannot take the pain she goes through each day. We try one suggestion, we try another. Unsuccessfully we end up right back where we started. Combing carefully through a nest of knots that seems to grow larger every time.
Our daughter cries alligator tears as she attempts to comb her hair.
Alligator tears are what I saw on our daughters’ face this past Sunday when I went into the bathroom to see how she was doing with preparing for a bath. Huge tears streaming down her red face. She was trying to brush out her hair and it was killing her. It was killing me. Hair should not be painful. So I suggested my last option. An option I have thrown out to her over the past several weeks.
Cut it off.
She agreed. So I cut six inches off her mane. She was a little worried when she saw the first cut. She even asked me if she could go look in the mirror and see the short and long of it. She returned to the chair and I cut away. She bathed and you know what, no more tears. Who needs Johnson and Johnson? Who needs gallons of Infusium conditioner? All we really needed was my pair of hair shears and an hour of time.
She is still beautiful! Perhaps a little older looking (I’m not fond of that); after all, she is only in middle school. She is short, sassy and loving it!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Timber 2
In the fall of 2009, my big guy cut down a few trees in our side field. He was out of wood to work with and needed to replenish his stock.
After a portable saw cut boards from the best logs, we hauled the boards to our basement. Time for them to dry. Impatiently he waited. Month after month went by. Drying time is prolonged when you use unconventional methods. After one winter season with a coal stove going and another season underway, the wood was ready to be worked with. My woodworking husband was happy and busy.
Today, he brought the finished piece upstairs to show us. A beautifully crafted coffee table.
Solid walnut. The wood is different than the deep rich cherry we have numerous tables made out of. To me, walnut has a silvery-gray tint to the dark brown wood. You can see the large eye he decided to work with. He debated about that piece for a long time and is pleased with the outcome. You can see the various grain patterns. WOW!
This beautiful piece will not call our home HOME. Instead, my carpenter man plans to talk to our church about donating it. Perhaps they can raffle it off and make a nice profit. I know I'll be buying some tickets. Maybe this walnut coffee table will be calling our home HOME.
After a portable saw cut boards from the best logs, we hauled the boards to our basement. Time for them to dry. Impatiently he waited. Month after month went by. Drying time is prolonged when you use unconventional methods. After one winter season with a coal stove going and another season underway, the wood was ready to be worked with. My woodworking husband was happy and busy.
Today, he brought the finished piece upstairs to show us. A beautifully crafted coffee table.
Solid walnut. The wood is different than the deep rich cherry we have numerous tables made out of. To me, walnut has a silvery-gray tint to the dark brown wood. You can see the large eye he decided to work with. He debated about that piece for a long time and is pleased with the outcome. You can see the various grain patterns. WOW!
This beautiful piece will not call our home HOME. Instead, my carpenter man plans to talk to our church about donating it. Perhaps they can raffle it off and make a nice profit. I know I'll be buying some tickets. Maybe this walnut coffee table will be calling our home HOME.
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