Oh, HI!

Oh my. So, I have refused to look at my blog stats to even see how long it has been since I last posted. Perhaps I'll look once this post is done... but I've MISSED YOU! I've missed writing. I've missed taking the time to chronicle the minutiae of our lives. I especially miss the hours that I have wasted staring at social media instead of feeding any sort of creative urges that I might have had.

That brings me to the NOW. The new year. A time for good intentions and clearing out and moving forward in a purposeful manner. And so I shall - but first, let me catch you up.

Lily Ruth is FIVE. She is a kindergartener, a ballet dancer, a budding thespian, a singer of silly songs, a tiny fashionista, and an all-around wonderful girl. She is bolder and braver every day. She is wild and funny, stormy and petulant, kind and thoughtful all in every day.

Alec D is 20 months old. Almost old enough to stop counting by months ;-) He is talking up a storm, running, climbing and changing so fast that it's hard to keep up! He loves water, swings, and work of any kind (For Christmas, he got a broom / mop set and a toy vacuum cleaner. He spent the next 3 hours "cleaning" the house). He stopped nursing January 1st. This week, we will dismantle the crib. Next week, I expect him to learn to solve for "X" :-P

Dottie Dog just passed her first anniversary of being a dog with a permanent home. She is funny and kind and full of crazy dog energy. I am thankful for her every day.

Last year was hard and wonderful and full of change. But most of it was just hard. I used almost all of my energy every day just trying to keep us afloat and not act like a total jerk. And we are. Afloat, that is - I may or may not have been a jerk... It took all of us working together, but our family is happy, healthy and whole. I know that I managed to make a few things along the way, and a few story-worthy things happened. If I end up remembering any of it in sufficient detail, I will tell you all about it.

For now, it just feels good to be typing instead of scrolling on my phone. Let's just call this progress, and hope to build from here, shall we?

What Day Is It?

Ya'll, if Lily Ruth didn't have someplace to be every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I am not convinced that I would have any idea what day it is. Ever. This whole Stay At Home Mother Of Two "thing" is hard and exhausting and at some point every day I am convinced that it is not for me. That said, I still genuinely thank God at least once a day for the amazing miracles that are my children. No matter how weird, wild, awful or insane the day may be, there are still moments of pure gold. Glimpses of holiness.

Alec crawls lightning fast into the kitchen where I am making dinner. Pulls himself to standing using my pants. Waits until he has my full attention (which he usually gains by hooting and bouncing) then growls, attempts to zerbert me (through my pants) then takes off at the speed of light while laughing hysterically.

In a moment of flurried activity while trying to get out of the door, I was listing what we had and what we needed out loud. "Lily Ruth has shoes and a jacket. Mama has shoes and a jacket. Alec is not ready. What does Alec need?" From the other room I hear Lily Ruth "HUMPS!" "What!?" She bursts into the nursery and proclaims "Camel humps, Mama! Alec D needs CAMEL HUMPS!!!"

Oh MAN! I need these moments. I need to hold them close and pull them out when Alec is crying hysterically and pulling on my leg while I prepare lunch for Lily Ruth and try not to start crying myself or yell at my baby. For when Lily Ruth's eyes narrow and she loses the ability to back down or even just calm down. *sigh* It is REALLY hard to see your least favorite personal character traits reflected in someone you love so much.

As a four-almost-five-year-old, Lily Ruth's job is to catalog her world, interpret what she sees and find her place in it. It is essential that she find her boundaries and understand how firm or flexible that they are. This means that she is constantly pushing me. Constantly. She has almost stopped the tantrums, but has replaced them with subtle insurrection. Refusing to meet my eyes when I am giving her directions (that she then chooses not to follow). Not stopping a behavior immediately when told to (something she used to do every time). Repeating an infraction that she would normally have not returned to because of the consequences. Trying out her lying skills... Oi. I am not known for my patience, people.

Yesterday was a real challenge. Not just an every day challenge. In addition to some subtle pushing, she tried a fairly major power play. I was tidying the house in a pretty manic manner. Both kids were playing in Lily Ruth's room. Then there was screaming. From Alec. When I rounded the corner, Alec was hysterical and Lily Ruth was attempting to hide behind the guest bed. I scooped him up and asked her what happened. She claimed not to know. Then she claimed that he fell. Then she said that she was "just holding him like usual" but he slipped. She was miming standing up straight and holding him under the arms. Then her arms went limp. Crap. She is shooting up like a weed, and he is as heavy as a tank. She knows for a FACT that she is not allowed to pick him up. We have this discussion every. damn. day. as part of a reminder program that she is not in charge of the baby or the dog or the family... So there I am holding a freaked out baby and staring at a freaked out, defiant child. Where the hell is that fabled How To manual for parents when you need it? Why do I not ever feel like I know the right way to react? I'm guessing that verbally chastising the defiant one then banishing her to the indefinite Time Out while you nurse the bruised one is not the right choice...

You would think that injury to her favorite sibling would put the kibosh on further antics. I would think that. But it didn't. She went ahead and pushed forward with poor listening, some light lying and some serious whining when her friends left after an impromptu play date. *sigh*

You know, I've had two days of workshops this month (done hurriedly due to poor planning on my part...). After each day, I felt renewed and revitalized. Excited about my career (and eager to someday return to it) and so thrilled to be reunited with my babies after 6-8 hours apart. I felt determined to rejuvenate my parenting and bring joy back to what was becoming a slog. Then the reality of each day sets back in. The teething and the whining. Constantly fluctuating naps. Guilt that I don't have more energy and time for either of them after I'm done just trying to provide the basics (like food, clean clothes and naps).

We just have to make it through this part. Make it through with as much love and care as possible. Not all parts of parenting are as hard as the first year. Not all parts are as hard as the fourth year. Heck, not all parts are as hard as the forty-first year :-P

I can do this. I want to do this. And I really want to get it right. Hopefully that counts for something.

Au Revoir, Monsieur Cafe

I think I killed the coffee maker. Maybe... Probably... ugh... This will be hard for me to put into words because, you see, I haven't had my coffee.

When you have hard water, things are different in the kitchen. Special detergents and rinse aids in the dishwasher. Pasta pots develop calcium deposits faster than you can blink. Coffee makers clog with scaly deposits. Oh, and what happens to the poor bathroom is best left unsaid...

I have noticed for a while (read: possibly months) that the coffee maker needed a quick vinegar cycle. It's just that when I notice it, I am in the middle of making and/or enjoying my coffee. Not really a time when I am amenable to vinegar-related chores.

So I ignored it and kept my nose in my coffee cup. Until today. When my poor coffee machine took more than 10 minutes to deliver not-quite-3/4 of the liquid that I had requested. During that time, there were repeated check-backs, much eye-rolling, and groans that deteriorated into frustrated growls.

*sigh* I sucked it up, and grabbed the giant jug of vinegar from the garage. And now the coffee maker is DEED. It sits on the counter gurgling impotently. It's innards bubbling with a thick sludge of calcium, lime, and every other mineral in the city water supply. No water spitting through...

Standing in front of it whilst holding my rapidly cooling partial cup of crummy coffee didn't seem to have any effect. So I glared at it. Poked at it with a spoon. Jabbed at it with the turkey baster. Nothing. I shook it. Emptied it. Refilled it with vinegar. Nada.

Now I'm ignoring it. This also seems to be NOT HELPFUL.

Here's the deal: it may only be half-caff, but I am still addicted, people! What I'm gonna need here is a restaurant-grade coffee behemoth hard-wired to our water supply - STAT. Baring that, I'm gonna need for you to refill my Starbucks Gold Card once a week AND deliver my order by 7:30 every morning. That's a grande brewed half-caff with 3 pumps of toffee nut and a splash of cream. Thanks!

** update: I tried once more. Vinegar out, water in. Luckily, I only filled it maybe halfway full because after just a few short minutes, there was an audible *POP*, and water began seeping from the BOTTOM of the machine. Um, ya'll, there is NOT supposed to be water seeping from screw holes :-(

I feel like I should give it a Viking funeral. A pyre of fire or a flaming boat set out to sea. It would make no nevermind to the coffee maker, but I would feel better if I got to set something on fire. Stupid machine. It had ONE job - deliver the coffee.

*** next day: I managed to make the world's WORST cup of "coffee" with my individual cup pour-over system. SO sad.

**** Hmpfh. Oddly enough, Don had a coffee maker in the trunk of his car. It has been there since April when he moved out of his old office. He is sharing it with me. It makes crummy coffee, but not truly crappy coffee. I guess I know what I will be using my birthday money on...

***** Here she is! Bella!!!

Tantrum Days

Oh. Mah. GAW. Yesterday was a 10 on the Epic Tantrum Scale you guys. Since turning 4, Lily Ruth has done some experimentation with temper tantrums, begging and whining. This is not necessarily news-worthy - she's 4. If she wasn't testing boundaries and pushing limits, I'd be worried. We even had a few weeks of full-blown screaming tantrums that lasted for a minimum of 30 minutes each.

This blew all of those out of the water. I am still reeling. When I texted my husband at 3:37 with "possibly the worst day ever. Do not come home without vodka", I was only kidding a little bit. Luckily, he gets me. He came home with hugs and pomegranate vodka.

It started over candy (or rather, the lack thereof in Lily Ruth's hot little hand). It continued as a refusal to calm down. It escalated as she battled to stay angry.

"I am going to THROW this!" "Lily Ruth, you know that if you throw something, the consequence is that it will be taken away."

"NO, Mama! I am GOING to throw this, and don't you DARE take it away from me! Don't you DARE!"

"I am GOING to get out of my room. I am GOING to get my things back!"

"NOOOOOOOOO! Don't you DARE throw the candy away! I AM GOING TO BITE YOU!"

This is where she went into pure Berserker mode. A tiny hurricane of angry fists, furious kicks, gnashing teeth and top-volume shrieking. I held her at arm's length as she raged at me. At one point, she actually managed to grab a handful of my hair and pull. I slapped her hand before I even realized it.

"I HATE YOU! I am NEVER going to love you. Never. Ever. AGAIN."

"I am going to call Daddy and tell him that you are acting like a JERK, Mama. I am going to write him that you are throwing my things and acting AWFUL."

It went on. And on. And on. By the time she wound down enough to stop screaming, there were three large containers of things from her room in the garage, and the contents of the candy bowl were in the garbage.

When she came to me white faced and red eyed to ask for water, I was shaking with the effort of holding her back physically and the mental effort of not losing control myself. I made her a large glass of ice water, and led her to the couch. I folded her grasshopper-long legs into my lap and wrapped her in a hug. I leaned my head against hers and whispered "I ALWAYS love you. Always. Even when there is screaming, I love you." She started sobbing again. We hugged for a while. Then I unfolded myself and went in to comfort poor Alec who had been awakened from his nap by all of the screaming. He had himself had been crying for quite some time, but I had been unwilling to let Lily Ruth out of my sight until she calmed down. *sigh*

Don made it home not too long after it was all over. It felt like an eternity. I was completely wiped out. We made (giant) cocktails in to-go cups and bundled everybody up for a walk. After a few minutes of banal pleasantries, I told Lily Ruth that we needed to talk about what happened.

I started with why and how it began. I walked her through the series of events and reminded her of each opportunity that I had given her to calm down and change her behavior. Don and I both talked about how opinions and emotions are both allowed, but temper tantrums are not appropriate ways to express either. We talked about the fact that a temper tantrum will NEVER (not even ONE time) cause Mama or Daddy to give in to a demand. I finished up by reminding her that the loss of candy and toys were a direct consequence of her actions, and asked her if she understood that...

"Yeah, but I get all my stuff back later." She skipped off to pick a weed.

Crap. All for naught?

"Actually, Boo, you will get three things back tomorrow, and we will talk about the rest of it later."

"O.K."

Ya'll, I don't think I am cut out for this. Is it too late to pack her off to boarding school or even sell her on etsy? That's right - etsy. I made her. She's handmade. Therefore, etsy instead of e-bay. I'll bet if I don't mention her propensity for tantrums, I could get a FORTUNE for her.

We made it home, and Lily Ruth retired to the back yard with Dottie Dog to play with the ridiculously over-sized stick that she had picked up on the walk. Soon, she had broken it into two, and was racing around the yard using them as comically large drumsticks.

"Mama! Come out here and listen to the noises that I am making! Do you like my sounds?"

Oh Baby Girl. I love them.

Still A Mess

After yesterday's tirade, I still feel unsettled. Today has been at best, a difficult day and at worst a terrible day. Currently, it is fair to middling, but it ain't over yet.

Poor Don has a massive sinus infection and didn't sleep AT ALL last night, but he still left early to see the doctor and worked most of the day. Poor Alec is either teething or going through separation anxiety or both - whatever the cause, he is either ON me or crying. Actually, he is so miserable that sometimes he is crying even if I am holding him :-/ Poor Me is emotionally exhausted and physically a wreck - my arms and back ache from holding Alec so much, and my temper is on a hair trigger. Poor Lily Ruth is convinced that I am trying to pawn her off out of spite and that she is going to miss out on something. *sigh*

After Alec's morning nap, I attempted to corral the troops and get ready for a run to the grocery store. That weekly menu plan isn't going to shop for itself, people! I managed to dress Alec, style my hair and apply the only 2 cosmetics I have time for these days - concealer and mascara. I was attempting to dress myself when Alec crawled over to the dog water dish and soaked himself head to toe in less than 3 seconds. I shrieked at him which caused him to begin screaming in a truly epic fashion. I picked him up and apologized. He continued screaming. I stripped off his sopping wet clothing while crooning sweet things in his ear. He kept up the crying, and began rubbing impressive amounts of snot into the shirt that I had just barely managed to put on. I gave up and sat down to nurse him for the umpteenth time.

Since today was going so poorly, I called my (step)Dad and asked if he could take Lily Ruth to lunch. It was my intention to get her out of the House of Misery and give her some quality fun time with someone who loves her very much. Instead of seeing it that way, her first response was " 'out you, right?" (I love that despite her daily vocabulary and word usage growth, she still has a few Little Girl foibles in her speech! 'Out for without. Comote for remote...) When I confirmed that Alec and I would be staying home, she immediately balked and announced "that's not what I want to do." I dismissed her refusal, got her dressed and zipped her into her coat, but before we could get out to the car, she announced that she wasn't going to eat. She just wasn't hungry. I buckled her in to the carseat anyway, and waved as they drove away.

While I bounced and walked with Alec, I composed a scolding speech to Lily Ruth in my head. One that I knew that I wouldn't ever give, but I organized my thoughts nonetheless. I was inwardly ranting on and on about how important it is to spend time with family. How important it is to get to know them and to just be with them... then I stopped... because I felt like a total hypocrite. I spent yesterday convincing myself that I didn't need part of my family. That it wasn't important. That they weren't worth the emotional risk. So where do I really stand? Do I care or not? Will I risk or not?

Oh, Lawdy! I wish I had answers. I wish I felt stronger. I wish that I felt like a better version of myself. One who could push past years of little girl wishes and big girl disappointments and just be the bigger person who always does the right thing. That's who I want my babies to see me as.

In Which I Am A Mess

My brains are mush, ya'll. I am a mass of wildly swinging emotions, and all I want to do is sleep. No, I am most definitely NOT pregnant, so there's only one other thing that makes people act like this, right? Family.

My hope is that in writing and editing this, I can make some sort of sense out of the information I have, and how I feel about it.

My mom dropped an emotional bombshell on me last night. I love that woman. I love her deeply, madly, truly, fully... but DAMMIT! I have no idea if she is aware of this, but she drops bombs about my biological father and his family when I can't do anything about them. Like the time we went for pedicures. Two and a half hours side by side. Not a peep about anything 'heavy'. On the way home, she starts talking about how crazy busy the rest of her day is going to be. Two blocks from my house, she blurts out that my paternal grandmother has colo-rectal cancer, and it's always best to be aware that these things are lurking in our family trees. Then she basically shoves me out of the car at my door and races off down the street...

A bit of background: my parents married when my mother was 17, and my father was not much older. He was, however, being shipped off to Vietnam. While I was that age, I was working in restaurants, drinking too much, meeting my husband and making bad decisions that only impacted me. My dad was fighting a nasty, horrible war and jumping out of aircraft. My beautiful, feisty mother was alone on army bases far from everything she knew and trying to make a home out of everything she found. When he came back, things fell apart. They were divorced before I was born. My mom never said anything bad about my dad when I was growing up. He just wasn't around.

I met him for the first time when I was in high school. We ran into each other a few times in the next few years. He made it to my high school graduation, but not to my wedding. We never had direct contact, and eventually, my mother grew tired of playing go-between. She announced that if we wanted to communicate, we could buck up and do it ourselves. Neither of us seemed capable of figuring it out, so we let it drop.

Last May, just after Alec's birth, mama mentioned a call from him, but never said anything about it's content. Last night, as we stood in her kitchen making birthday dinner for the incredible man that I now call Dad, she leaned in and confided that she (the inveterate worrier) had "found something new to worry about." "Lay it on me" I belted out; confident that it had to do with Alec and something that we had failed to baby proof or are completely unprepared for - the field is vast as we are genuinely completely unprepared for a LOT of things. Instead, she told me that my paternal grandfather was diagnosed with congestive heart failure last May, and she hates to think that I might never meet him. "Do you think you might need to meet him?"

Wait, WHAT!?

She stirred the mushroom sauce and talked sotto-voice about how wonderful he is and where he is from. She mentioned that my dad has a half brother from his dad's second marriage who is also pretty great. I clutched my son and inwardly swooned.

"There might not be too much more time. Or maybe there is. What do you think?"

What do I think? I lost it a little bit. "What about the part where I'm FORTY YEARS OLD and none of these people have said a word to me!?" Why is this MY responsibility? Do they even want to talk to me? If so, why have they waited so long? It's not like I'm hard to find. "Shame," she said. "I think it's shame."

Some other portion of our family and our evening intervened, and we both let it drop.

I found a wine glass, and made it mine.

When we got back to our house, I started my rant. My poor husband. He of the toothache and case of exhaustion. He finally stopped me and said "I think that you have all of the dads and grandpas that you need." He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. Then he led me down the hall so we could put our children to bed.

I slept like a baby - up every hour, and restless in between.

As a child and a teen who had an occasionally adversarial relationship with her step-dad and two younger brothers that felt like two too many, I just knew that my dad would treat me differently. I had overblown fantasies of him coming to take me away and make me feel special. As a twenty-year-old, I decided that I had no need for this mysterious figure that I knew only through a handful of old photos and meetings that I could count on one hand. In my thirties, I found that I was no longer angry, but I wasn't interested in being the one to pursue a relationship, either.

So. Here I am. A forty-year-old, long-time married, mother of two. A planner and organizer. An avid reader. A novice writer. A teller of tales. A lover of ridiculous adventures. An excellent friend. A massage therapist. Pretty good at making things. Even better at cooking. Surrounded by those who love me.

And ya know what? This is where I choose to stand. I am not going to put myself out there and risk. Not this time. In this relationship, I am the child. I am the one they chose to walk away from. If they're so great, and I'm missing out, they can take the risk. If they choose to make the first move, I'm right here. In my nest of crazy love.

Fish Soup

I have no idea what brought this story to the front of my exhausted brain, but here it is...

When my younger brother Lucas was much younger than he is now, we lived in an "established" (read: not new or fancy or suburban) neighborhood. A nice little house with a backyard just right for make believe adventures and plastic splash pools.

Being an older house, it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. One winter, we had goldfish. Well, we probably had goldfish over more than just one winter, but this is a story about a particular instance of having goldfish in winter, not a log of goldfish-having experiences. This particular winter, Lucas was old enough to be really mobile, and to really think about things. One of the things he spent a good deal of time pondering was the goldfish bowl and it's occupants. To be fair, we all spent at least part of the day thinking about the fish as their bowl resided on the kitchen counter.

Our regular babysitter had also given some thought to our fish. She gave us a small heater for them. It perched on the lip of the bowl, and dangled into the water. We kept it's dial set between one and three, and it kept the fish water at a nice lukewarm temperature. One night, it got really cold. The kind of cold that we just don't get down here very often. The kind of cold that grown ups talk about all day. The cold became something that a small boy was giving a lot of thought to. Something that worried him mightily. By the time night rolled around, he was worried how the cold would affect the fish. He made a plan.

He crept out of his warm, snuggly bed and padded his little footed sleeper clad way into the kitchen. He carefully pushed a chair up to the counter, and contemplated the fish. He decided that yes, indeed, they were cold. He decided that this observation required action. He reached his tiny fingers up and turned the dial of the fishbowl heater up and up and up again. He may or may not have turned it all of the way to eleven. Then he maybe (just maybe) gave the bowl a satisfied pat or two and (definitely) climbed carefully down. Then that sweet, thoughtful, sleepy boy made his way back to his bed.

We woke up the next morning to a fishbowl of roiling, boiling water, and two very warm fish.

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

On a completely unrelated fish note, we went to the zoo yesterday. Alec D is as much in love with petting goldfish as his big sister is. He holds as much of his arms as he can reach into the pond and waits for the fish to come up and lip his fingers gently. When they do, he hoots excitedly, bounces like crazy and splashes like mad.

Sleepovers Vs Sleep

Oh Myyyyyyyyyyyyy. Lily Ruth had her first successful sleepover last night!

We attempted a sleepover with the same friend a few weeks ago, but we did it wrong, and it ended in a full-on screaming temper tantrum from Lily Ruth. Her friend Lola went home disappointed and confused. In case you were wondering, it is totally easy to get it wrong - especially the first time, and especially if the participants are 4 years old. We invited Lola to sleep over, then extended an invitation to Lola's 6 year old brother and wonderful mama to join us for dinner. We ended up keeping the kids up too late, and they were exhausted by the time they crawled up into the loft bed. We thought things were going well until there was crying. Lily Ruth was inconsolable, and kept insisting that she needed to sleep alone and she didn't know how to act at a sleepover. She was unable to articulate what (if anything) had happened to bring this on, and she REFUSED to calm down. Oi. Within minutes, she was shrieking at top volume. Lola's mom came to pick Lola up, and it took an additional 40 minutes for poor Lily Ruth to calm down.

This time, when the girls cooked up their sleepover plan, we decided to do it differently. Lily Ruth and I discussed in advance what we needed to do differently (just Lola, go to bed earlier). Then we went for it.

The girls were both happy when the climbed the ladder last night. We got them situated, and kissed them goodnight. The giggling started almost immediately. We decided not to intervene unless it got loud enough to possibly wake up Baby Brother... which happened twice... all of a sudden, it was 11 o'clock and they actually DID wake up Alec. I stormed in and demanded that they KNOCK IT OFF IMMEDIATELY AND GO TO SLEEP. I didn't hear another peep... until 5:30 am. Lily Ruth maintains that they did not sleep at all. I told her that I did not care, because they didn't wake me up :-P

Oh, and yes, you read that correctly. They woke up at 5:30!! They played fairly quietly in Lily Ruth's room until about 7:30. Then they flung themselves loudly into the living room and started watching movies on Netflix. *sigh*

They both had a marvelous time, and even after breakfast and Sunday School, they still wanted to play together. The mamas put the kibosh on that. They parted as happy, loving friends.

Six and a half hours is not enough sleep for 4 year olds. It might possibly be enough for a 40 year old, but this particular old lady was awakened multiple times by a teething baby :-( so nobody got enough sleep last night. Lily Ruth held it together until just after 2 pm. Now she's snoring on the couch. Alec and I napped in the rocking chair for a bit. Don is playing football on the playstation with glassy eyes. I'm sure we'll recover. Someday.

The only thing I have had the energy to do is stare at Pinterest for a while and come up with a menu plan for the week. Here it is! 3 of the 5 days planned are on my Pinterest board. The shrimp pasta is going to be a totally-winging-it-thing, and the risotto is already on this blog :-)

Sunday:  Sauteed Shrimp and Spinach in Creamy Sauce over pasta

Monday:  Crockpot Gyros (with salad)

Tuesday:  Tortellini and Sausage in a Cheesey Tomato and Cream Sauce (with broccoli and cauliflower)

Wednesday: Gnocchi with Sausage and Kale

Thursday:  Risotto with Mushroom and Peas (and grilled chicken)

Friday:  Family Steak Night (including Dragon's Breath sauce over something)

Saturday:  crapshoot - I'm outta ideas.

Happy eating, blog friends. Remember, Food is Love! I will leave you with this image of Alec D and Dottie Dog wrestling WWE-style:

To Sleep, Or Not To Sleep...

These are from October of 2012. I had obviously intended to add more of them, and had perhaps intended to flesh them out a bit, but never got around to it. Any further details are lost to the mists of sleep deprivation and time, but I cannot bear to delete them!

Vignettes through exhausted eyes:

I should have turned out the light ages ago, but I didn't. I'm awake and reading waaaay past my bedtime again. A subtle movement in the doorway catches my eye. Lily Ruth stands quietly. Eyes mostly closed, brow furled against the light, sippy cup and blanket clutched tightly. "Come on in, Baby Love" I say softly. She nods in agreement and skirts her sleeping dog. "I just needed you" she states as she climbs over me and settles in.

***************

Another late night. Pregnancy hormones wreck havoc on a mama's routines. At the thump of tiny feet hitting the floor I pause my reading and wait. Nothing for a few moments, then a tousled head appears. "I need to go POTTY" she states brightly. I leap up and herd her into the bathroom. I seat her sleepy self on the small seat, and she drapes her arms around my neck. As her weight melts into mine, I realize that she's telling me a story. "My body just said 'Wih-we Wuf, you need to go tinkle' and I said 'oh, o.k.' so I got up and told you and you put me on the potty and then I tinkled and I really did have to go..." Her voice trails off and her eyes slide shut as I lift her up and carry her into our bed. "You forgot my agua." *sigh*

***************

Alec the Titan

My son is a Titan. Not necessarily a Titan as in the Titans who fathered the gods of Olympus, but a flame-haired master of his universe. But if we're being honest, and not just exaggerating in order to make a point, his hair is blonde-ish / brown-ish with a beautiful copper corona (psst: in this case, a corona is a glow visible in moderate to great sunlight).

The red hair began to show very early on, and came as a surprise to me... and my husband. When initially questioned about it, I replied that the color obviously came from the devil himself. Then we laughed hysterically.

When I repeated that anecdote to my mother, she "reminded" me that we were Scottish, so the red hair was not a surprise. I expressed surprise at the news that we were Scottish. She continued to act like this was information that I already had, and "repeated" a story about a great (great-great?) -grandfather, a long-distance bride, and a case of mistaken identity based on a beard that grew in red. It's a great story. If I loved you more, I would type it out here. But I love ME and SLEEP more than I love YOU, and also, it's not the point. The point is that my mother, The Keeper of the Family Lore is an inadvertent story hoarder. She has listened to and stored family stories for her entire life. She loves stories. She will practically mug people for biographical stories. She especially loves to share stories. The problem is not one of intentional hoarding. The problem is that she is so used to having all of this knowledge in her head, that she feels like we ALL have the same amount of family lore rolling around in our brains. I personally haven't heard a story older than my own great-grandparents in at least ten years - thus, my claim of hoarding.

To be fair, my mama and I have been through our share of wild, busy, stressful, amazing, exhausting changes in recent history. There hasn't been a lot of time for sharing of anything other than love. But if we don't tell more stories more often, the stories die. We can forget who we came from and how blessed we truly are. We forget that we are Scottish Titans Who Braved Untamed America.

Maybe it's time to listen more. You know. So we won't forget...

Where Have You BEEN!?

WOW! I haven't published since July!? My poor, lonely blog. Just as I felt like I was really finding my voice, too! Well, I meant to publish all kinds of things. I even composed numerous posts in my head as I fell asleep at night... but, um, stuff got in the way. Stuff like THIS:

I absolutely cannot believe that 8 whole months have passed since the birth of Alec D. The time has simultaneously flown and dragged by. As a family, we have weathered extreme stress and experienced great joy. The act of getting us all through each day clothed, fed and relatively unscathed has left me a bit depleted. I was also sans laptop, and our desktop is ancient, unwieldy and in a terrible location, so I was unmotivated to sit and compose posts even though I have plenty to say.

I fully intend to tell you all about Lily Ruth and ballet class. I have so much to say about Alec the Titan. I opened an Etsy store. We even have a new dog!

But in the way of most new years, I am starting this one with a bit of resolution. I want to feed my family in a more organized manner. No more running to the store every day or freaking out after 5 o'clock when the store run hasn't been done and both kids are so tired that they are losing their minds. Plenty of people in this great wide world manage to keep this stuff organized. This is not beyond my grasp.

So here is my menu plan for this week. The main dish recipes (aside from the stuffed shells - which I make up as I go) are on my Pinterest boards :-)

Monday:  Spicy turkey burgers with oven fries and broccoli & cauliflower

Tuesday:  Stuffed Shells

Wednesday:  Chicken and mushroom farro risotto and asparagus

Thursday:  Philly cheesesteak green peppers and quinoa

Friday:  Family steak night

Saturday:  - I dunno. What are YOU having? -

Sunday:  - crapshoot. possibly nothing -

And I will leave you with this tidbit: Lily Ruth was sitting at the table with her great-grandparents and a veterinarian kit. Writing furiously and talking on her "phone", she wrapped up her business then turned to Grandmother. "When do you want to bring your dog in for his appointment?" Ruth replies "how about tomorrow at 3." Lily Ruth consults her paperwork and states firmly "it will have to be today. Tomorrow is my day off."

Sleepy Scene

Scene:  interior - messy adult bedroom - 10:30 p.m.

Parents are  watching television. Toddler bumps sleepily into their room with wild, sleep-tossed hair. She stops on her mama's side of the bed. Daddy freezes in the manner of a bunny trying to go unnoticed by a predator - perhaps he is even caught with a potato chip halfway to his mouth.

Lily Ruth: Hi, Mama. Can you open this for me?

Toddler thrusts a closed sippy-cup toward her mother with surprising speed and force. Mother bumblingly catches it.

Mama: Sure, Boo. Is everything o.k.?

Mother opens the cup lid and hands it back to the toddler.

LR: Sure. Yeah.

Toddler spins 180 degrees on a wobbly axis and returns to her room. Parents stare at each other in quiet shock and awe. Daddy resumes potato chip consumption.

Mama: Did she really just leave? Is she going back to bed - her bed - all on her own?

Daddy: Um, maybe...

Parents wait 10 - 20 minutes before creeping in to check on toddler. Child is deeply asleep in her own bed with arms flung wide and legs akimbo. Parents stare at each other in utter confusion - this has never happened before - are they truly free to carry on with their evening? Only time will tell...

A Wonderful Vacation

I never made time to tell you about our vacation! Sorry - stuff got a little wild there for a while...

We Doyles made our way to Florida to meet up with the British contingency in order to celebrate Kittyn's 40th birthday. What with my diseased gallbladder, Kittyn's deteriorating back condition and BOTH of us being in our first trimester at the time (:-0), it wasn't your typical Florida vacation. It was WONDERFUL, though.

The weather was colder than we had originally anticipated. Sandy had blown past Florida a day or so before, and was on her way to decimate the Northern states. In her wake, she left very little damage to Florida, but the temperatures were much lower than the seasonal norm. Kittyn and I had specifically planned lots of sunny beach loll-ing time, and we did not get it.

What we did get, was lots of other cool stuff.

A visit to a real swamp with real alligators who were standing RIGHT NEAR US. Now, despite the slightly cheese website and terrifyingly sulfurous entry, this ended up being an incredible day with a great guide at Jungle Adventures Nature Park.

A very cold gator - too cold to move!

So very, very close to the fence :-O

An encounter with giraffes who were, quite frankly, cracker whores at the Brevard County Zoo.

Matt and his new... um... girlfriend?

GIMME THE CRACKER, MAN! 

An unexpectedly fun Halloween spent at the mall (??!!) and at "home".

A bit overwhelmed by her candy haul and all of the costumes.

A Zombie, Pirate, Skeleton Ballerina  and Peter Pan scoop out the pumpkin

 A fun day at Disneyworld complete with princesses and stolen moments.

Wuv... Twu wuv...

She's so happy, but so nervous! The face is PRICELESS!

A great day at beautiful Cocoa Beach. Even in November, just days after a big storm, it was still warm enough to frolic on the sand and in the water. A good thing, because it ended up being our only beach day.

Turning Maddie  into a mermaid on Cocoa Beach

A Lily Ruth Mermaid

A wonderful birthday dinner for Robyn.

They just had to squeeze into the picture!

 

Another unexpectedly neat adventure on a boat tour... another day that we were afraid was going to be cheesy and ended up being awesome. I would show you dolphins and manatees, but we were too busy watching them to get any pictures!

And last but not least - a day at Sea World. My favorite bit... because of this:

That's right, people - I WAS PETTING DOLPHINS. Now, I know that this is not earth-shattering. In fact, I've done it before - we have a Sea World here in town for heaven's sake. But it never gets old. Marine mammals hold a special place in my heart :-)

I could bore - I mean bomb you with more pictures of our adventures, but I have grown weary of uploading. If you want to see more, you'll have to come over to my house... Alright, alright! Stop begging already! You're embarrassing yourself! :-P Here are 3... o.k. 4... more that I found on Don's phone :-)

He likes this one too :-)

I absolutely cannot resist a "kid squatting to play in the sand" picture 

There are 4 children and 2 adults in this picture ;-)

Tired but so happy :-)

Mothering by Feel

Lily Ruth has not been well this week. This does not mean that she has been sick. Rather, she suffers from a vague malaise. She's tired and out of sorts. Gently congested and coughing intermittently. She has been requesting "pajamas, stories, brush teeth then rock" around 7 or 7:30 every night. 

She lists around the house complaining about everything and picking fights with anyone who will listen. Her usual spark of determination is being used to light pathetic tantrums full of crocodile tears and slammed doors. Honestly, I thought we had a bit more time before the pre-teen years. I guess I was misinformed.

It doesn't help that all of her friends seem to be experiencing the same phase. Sinus crud is par for the course around these parts in January, and most of her close friends are very close to her age, so the typical 3 1/2 year old breakthrough combined with an extra lack of energy is knocking them out left and right. Playdates  are tentative and nothing is set in stone until a friend actually walks through the door. Cancellations and rescheduling are the order of the day. Much energy is spent redirecting disappointment into something else. 

Yesterday, Lily Ruth was in her carseat bemoaning her lack of a plan for something fun to do. She interrupted herself with a hacking cough fit. When she finished, I asked if she was all right, and if she needed a sip of water. She turned down the water, and with perfect three year old logic, she threw aside her friend woes and said "See, Mama - I told you I don't feel good. This is why I can't go to school." But it wasn't a school day. School had not been mentioned. Less than 2 minutes before, her world was practically a wasteland. Barren and completely devoid of companionship or fun. All of which is obviously my fault. Now, she's practically consumptive and in need of a fainting couch and a restorative cordial STAT.

*sigh*

After another early night for Lily Ruth, Her daddy and I tucked ourselves in for some grownup t.v. and some quiet time. Don fell asleep long before I did. This is not a surprise. He wakes up incredibly early in the morning in order to be home in time to play with his daughter and share dinner as a family. I settled in with my kindle fire to read and unwind on my own. 

Lily Ruth padded in somewhere close to midnight. I love to watch her do this. She pauses at our doorway, and assesses the dog's position. Then she carefully navigates around Keely and says "hi, Mommy" as she reaches for my hand and crawls up and over me. Last night, she paused and added "I need my agua." Some nights, I send her back for her cup and her blanket on her own. Last night, I told her that I would get it. When I returned, she was snuggled in next to her daddy, with her head on my pillows. I handed over her water ("Gan-you, Mama.") and began the process of settling my old body and my baby belly into the bed. These days, it's a bit of a production. 

I was barely settled when she started another coughing fit. When it ended, she fell asleep immediately - thumb hanging crookedly from the corner of her mouth. Nose completely clogged by congestion. Stale breath blowing directly onto my face. I wanted so much to be asleep. Instead, I began another ritual. One that I do any time that Lily Ruth is unwell and asleep. I don't even know really how to describe it, but I am so compelled to do it, that it feels hardwired. I just start checking her out. One kiss on the forehead becomes a routine of pressing my face to hers. Lips to forehead. Cheek to cheek. Forehead to chin. My hands press softly to her back then her chest and belly. I move her feet so that they press onto my thigh. All checking for what? Temperature differences, sweat, bumps? I don't even know. But it's instinctive. All I know is that if I don't do it, I'll just wake up in a few minutes and have to do it then. It makes me feel like a true mammal. I can't help but wonder if I'm not meant to snuffle into her hair for pheromones and lick her once or twice as well... I don't do those things, but if I thought they'd help, I would... Instead, I move her face farther from mine, tuck her water cup into the crook of her arm, and join the rest of my pack in sleep. Sweet, dream-filled, open-mouthed-snoring sleep.

A tired Lily Ruth "rests" with Sam

 

And STAY Out!

Today was just one of those days... Well, to be honest, YESTERDAY was one of those days, so today sort-of felt like a hangover (if I even remember what a hangover feels like). I was completely uninspired in the parenting department today. Left to my own devices, I probably would have flopped around between my bed, the couch and the bathtub.

Since I was not left to my own devices, I asked Lily Ruth what she wanted to do. She wanted breakfast tacos. Specifically, breakfast tacos brought home by daddy. Well, it's not Saturday, so we decided to take breakfast tacos to daddy instead! That was great until I got cranky.

Our next stop was the park with our friends! That was great until I got cranky - and hot.

Next, Starbucks with even more friends. Great until Lily Ruth got cranky. Hey - at least it wasn't me!

When we pulled into our driveway I was having the kind of energy-sapped moment that made me feel as though taking off my seatbelt was an impossible task. So I left my purse, my drink and all of the assorted shoes, socks, legwarmers and other detritus of the day in the car and hoisted my sweaty, whiny, shoeless angel onto my shoulder.

As we crossed the threshold into our home, a small lizard darted across the tile. Not wanting to find a sad, desiccated lizard corpse in a few days, I immediately turned my focus to catching then freeing said lizard. Within seconds, we were all in on it. Well, I was hunting lizards, Keely wandered out the open front door, and Lily Ruth raced after her yelling 'Keely, get back in here you bad dog! Get back in this house you bad dog!' Keely really is a good dog, so in a matter of 10 seconds or less, she sauntered back through the door with Lily Ruth hot on her heels. They managed to foil a perfectly timed scoop-and-grab maneuver, and the little lizard darted in the opposite direction. I spun around and peered  behind the cedar chest. Not only was Little Lizard there, but he was in the company of Big Lizard. To be fair, Big Lizard was (hopefully is) only big in comparison to Little Lizard, but they were the only two around for reference, so there you have it.

I spent the next few minutes engaged in cartoon-esque behavior. Completely ineffectual chasing and shoo-ing foiled at every turn by lithe, graceful lizard ballet. In an attempt to gain an upper hand, I opened a rarely used connecting door into the guest room. My hope was that I could use some sort of surprise ninja attack that they would never see coming since they were unfamiliar with the floorplan of the house. In actuality, I managed to chase Big Lizard into a previously unknown-of giant gaping crack under the guest room window, and scare Little Lizard into a petrified, heavy-breathing panic under the cedar chest.

I gave up for the moment and wandered out to the car... only to find that I had left the rear door open. Swift. I gathered all of our belongings, and berated myself back inside.

After fortifying myself with the dregs of my Passion Tea Lemonade (I'm sure that requires capital letters and some sort of TM or C), I peered once again into the entry way. Little Lizard had moved himself behind the chest. I grabbed a junk mail post card and blocked his escape route. After that, I scooped him up in seconds. He froze in a very macho lizard pose - mouth open, eyes averted, fledgling red mating pouch partially inflated. I gently deposited him outside, and he scurried away. He didn't so much as glance back in gratitude.

I took a deep breath - well, um, if we're being fair, most of my breathing feels pretty dramatic what with the increased blood volume, bloating and growing of new organs... but I digress -  and turned to look for Big Lizard. Luckily for me (and probably for him - I was about to give up), he was staring longingly out of the guest room window. I scooped him up very quickly and headed toward the door. He also tried the macho route, and added in an attempt to bite me. Now, I dubbed him 'Big Lizard', but he was still tiny. We're talking four inches tops from nose to tail tip. Also, green garden lizards do not have teeth. Just flat, white cartilaginous gums. So when I say that he tried to bite me, what I mean is, he opened his mouth, managed to get it 1/3 of the way around my index finger, and closed his jaws. If I hadn't been staring straight at him, there is a pretty good chance that I wouldn't have even registered a change in pressure on my skin. Since I was staring straight at him, I said 'OUCH!' and even became annoyed with him for 'biting' me.

I continued to think cranky thoughts about Big Lizard as I walked out and set him free in approximately the same place where I left Little Lizard (and yes, I gave it conscious thought. What if they are friends or even family members? Community is important, people!). As I set him down, It struck me how ridiculous this was. My ingrained response to being 'bitten' was so strong that I was irritated with a teensy lizard for being terrified of the giant who chased him around then held him high in the air.

I decided instead to be proud of both of them. They both took me on with courage and panache. Well fought, lizards. Well fought.

Because my life is so rich, full and fascinating, I decided to post about my lizard bite on facebook. One friend commented that her gecko had quite a nasty bite despite his toothless status. In an effort to clarify the complete inanity of my situation, I commented that the bite was akin to 'being gummed by a sock puppet'. In retrospect, I am delighted with myself. That may become my new catch phrase. I adore it. So completely ridiculous. So whimsically fun! My afternoon agitation has given me something fun - for once.

Come back here, lizards! I'ma kiss you on the lips! O.k., fine - I'ma kiss you on the cartilaginous gums!

Yaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!

My appointment with the midwives was wonderful, you guys! I'm not sure that I could convey how scared I was leading in to this. I was fairly certain that my body was once again deluding me, and that there would not be a heartbeat.

With all of the delays involved in our visit (Don went with me), I was completely on edge by the time we made it into the ultrasound room. I tried to stay cool, but I burst into tears when we saw Baby Bean's heartbeat flicker into view.

Doyle Baby Two is measuring right on target, and has a beautifully strong heartbeat. For my more visually oriented readers, here is our glorious Bean:

For those not up on their ultrasound reading skills, the black center is where Bean lives. The largest round bit near the top center is a baby head. Following down to the right is baby body then baby leg. Branching toward the center is coiled umbilical cord.

It's so wild that almost exactly 4 weeks ago, our baby looked like a stick attached to a bubble, and now it is pretty much baby-shaped (albeit a bit lacking in birth-ready proportion...). Our medical group has huge monitors attached near the ceiling in their ultrasound rooms so that you can easily see the images in real time. This little one was moving a mile a minute. Legs peddling, arms pumping. Quite impressive for one so tiny (3.43 cm from crown to buns)!

Good news, great day! Followed closely by an energy crash of epic proportion. I had the kind of nap where you literally cannot force your eyes open even though you NEED to. I plan on repeating that nap in a much longer time frame tomorrow, because it is currently 2 a.m., and I cannot seem to shut myself off for the night :-/

Send me sleepy thoughts, friends. And tell Bean that I'll send down as much fat as my dumb gallbladder will allow me to... and if more is needed, just borrow from the reserves in my thighs - please.

Wait, WHAT!?

In the three weeks since my last post, things have been a bit wild around here. In fact, the situation has been completely non-conducive to writing of any sort. Lily Ruth's Daddy worked through his two-week-notice, and started out in practice with a friend. Things are going very well for them, but start-ups on this scale border on terrifying... especially when you are the one who sits down to pay the bills...

Also, I have gallstones. I know, right? Sadly, I should have (and sort-of did) see this coming. When I had my annual lady exam this year, I complained of feeling like there were tiny baby toes under my ribs on my right side. My midwife told me in no uncertain terms to get it checked out as it was probably my gallbladder. My mother vehemently seconded this as she had her gallbladder taken out only after it reached a crisis state, and it was NOT fun for her. Well, I meant to do it, just like I meant to have all of my 'I'm almost 40' tests done this year; but I forgot... because it stopped hurting.

Well, it started hurting again big time. Two weeks ago, I thought that I had strained a muscle (or twenty) in my back, but everything that I did to relieve it either didn't help, or made it worse. By the next morning, I was having trouble taking in a decent breath and I was afraid that my diaphragm was somehow involved/compromised. Then it hit me - it was probably my damn gallbladder. I dropped Lily Ruth off at Parent's Day Out, and headed for the minor emergency clinic. Seven hours and an ultrasound of my gallbladder later, I had my diagnosis. Definitely gallstones. Swelling was present, but no inflamed tissue. So it was the famous Clear Liquid Diet for a few days plus pain pills, muscle relaxants and anti-nausea tablets.

Here's the rub, you guys: that sucker's gonna have to come out. Not maybe, definitely. Apparently, you can have gallstones for ages before they present any sort of problem, but once symptoms present, it's a downhill slide... with no set timetable because everybody is different :-/ It doesn't have to come out today, because it's not currently irritated or inflamed, but if it does reach that point, it has to come out immediately. Why not have it taken out now, before it becomes a crisis? Good question, friend. THIS is why:

Since most folks don't walk out of their friendly neighborhood radiology clinic with images of their woe clutched tightly in a sweaty fist, you have perhaps surmised part two of my news... The round 'ball' in the center of the darker area is a yolk sac, and the tiny bit being measured just blow it is a 6 week, 1 day old embryo! I am (yet again) With Child! We are thrilled, delighted and terrified. Thrilled and delighted because we have been hoping for another baby for a year and a half now. Terrified because of last year's awfulness, and because I was so sick with this gallbladder stuff. As of now, I'm two weeks out from the gallbladder attack, and three days shy of being 10 weeks pregnant. I think (hope, pray) that after my appointment and ultrasound on Wednesday, I'll feel secure enough in this pregnancy to feel truly joyful instead of just scared.

For those of you feeling like 2 ultrasounds this early on is a bit much - after all, aren't I using midwives who believe that pregnancy and childbirth are natural processes and not medical emergencies? - you're right on. BUT, a woman of (get this) Advanced Maternal Age (dammit) and my history of loss gets a bit more of the medical side of stuff weather she wants it or not :-/ I must admit that the glimpses of our tiny bean are so reassuring that I'll gladly submit to whatever they want to do along with the imaging.

Back to my gallbladder - focus, people! For now, I have to understand the signs of an acute attack, and manage the rest with diet and pain medication in moderation. My diet went from 'um, fairly healthy' to '5g or less of fat per day' overnight. It's scary and frustrating to make a change that big while in pain. I'm feeling better every day, though, and it turns out that my morning sickness was mostly gallbladder sickness - so that's pretty great!

This is a very strange time, friends. Full of all kinds of new things and challenges both wonderful and not so great. I am ready to celebrate this pregnancy and shed my fear. Pray for me, guys. We should have an answer by Wednesday.

So, there you have it. Joy and Pain... Like Sunshine and Rain (what else... :-P) *whew* That dance break got out of hand FAST. But if you don't have a dance break every now and then, what do you have, really? Not enough, that's for sure. Keep on dancing!

Sometimes, Life's a Total Wreck

Lily Ruth and I slept in yesterday. By slept in, I mean that it was after 10 o'clock when we woke up. We both needed the sleep. Between my insomnia and her nonstop approach to life, we were a bit overtired.

Once we decided to wake up, we smiled sleepily at each other, and she started babbling happy morning nonsense. I grabbed my phone to check the time, and saw a text from Lily Ruth's Daddy - it was over an hour old. 'Good morning!' It greeted me cheerfully.

"I'm going to call Daddy and tell him good morning."
"O.k., I'm going to go in the living room!" She slid off the bed feet first and padded off.

I can hear lots of highway noise as he answers. Not a surprise as he was driving to Houston for a deposition.

"Hi! Where are you guys?" His voice was loud and overly cheery.
"At home - why?" I answered cautiously.
"Good. I need you two to jump in the car and head for Seguin to pick me up. I just totaled the car."

I was completely confused. His tone was all Hail Fellow,Well Met but the message conveyed was terrifying. I started scrambling for clothes as questions fought for space in my mouth.

"Are you o.k.?"
"I'm fine. I just need for you to come pick me up. The officers should be done with me by the time you get here."
"Oh. Um. We'll be right there..." Not strictly true as the drive alone is over thirty minutes, and I still had to get us both ready, but he took it in the spirit it was intended. "Great!"

It took me almost twenty minutes to leave the house. I was at a total loss. What would we need? How long would we be gone? Would we have to take him to the hospital? I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to find a bra, but I left Lily Ruth's hair wild and uncombed. I threw ridiculous combinations of blankets, pillows, bathing suits (swim lesson at 4 - mustn't forget!), art supplies, toys and snacks into the car in case we ended up needing to occupy our time someplace awful. By the time we left, I was milliseconds away from tears, and I desperately wanted to throw up. But I did neither - I had a child in the backseat, and if I fell apart... well, it wouldn't be fair to her, and it wouldn't do any good.

As instructed, I called him when we hit I-10. The cheerful tone continued: "Good! We're just about done here, and the officer is going to drop me off at the Home Depot a few exits away. I don't want you or Lily Ruth to see the car." That almost did it. I almost threw up again.

We found him in the parking lot surrounded by the detritus of a totaled car. Leather satchels, legal notebooks, sport coats... He was talking on the phone and pacing (as he always does). I pulled up next to him and jumped out - I just needed to touch him. Without breaking off his conversation, he hugged me with one arm and began loading his things into the car. I don't think he had any idea that he was shaking like a leaf.

Lily Ruth begins her interrogation from her carseat. "DADDY - did you have an accident in your car?" He hangs up the phone and gives her his full attention: "Yes I did, Boo. My car hit another car, but I am fine." She plugs her thumb into her mouth and twirls her hair tightly. I realized much later that to her, 'accident' means not making it to the potty in time. The news that something had happened to daddy AND his car was a surprise to her and the information was highly confusing.

He wouldn't show me pictures of the car until after we got home. He made the right choice.

We spent the rest of the day doing mainly accident-related stuff. A trip to the minor emergency clinic for a check up. Calls to the insurance company. Picking up a rental car and his prescriptions. I finally dropped Lily Ruth off with some friends around 5 o'clock. "I just need a minute to fall apart" I told them. I had kept it together the entire day because every time I even mentioned the accident, my tiny shadow would plug in that thumb and go a bit purple under the eyes.

I just hugged him for a while and sobbed. "This is probably harder for you than for me" he said. "I didn't have time to be scared, and by the time it was over, I knew that I was fine." I, on the other hand, had spent all day worrying about him. I just wanted to crawl into his body and check it out bit by bit. How could they know if he's o.k.? Shouldn't someone have come along shouting about a need for full body scans or something? Like some sort of lunatic, I just kept asking him if he was really all right or not.

I eventually pulled it together and went to collect our daughter. She spent the rest of the evening glued to us and nervously staring at our faces hoping for some kind of clue as to what was going on. We finally got her to talk to us about why she was scared, and it was mainly because she had no idea what had actually happened... and (like me) she was unconvinced that daddy was truly fine. Luckily, when you are three, mama and daddy can usually convince you that all is right in your world with fairly little effort. She fell asleep easily, and we settled in to our own bed to unwind.

As he always does, Don drifted off long before I did. I'm sure the pain pill helped. I stared at his silhouette in the dark, and listened for his breath. For once, I was thankful for the snoring.

****************

Thank you, Lord for your presence in our lives. Thank you for keeping your hand on my husband. You kept him calm and saved his life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.