Joyful Mama

There is much that 'could have been' in life. Today, the nurse shared what 'could have been' with Sashi. And I could again see the blessings.

In 80% of cases with children under the age of 3 experiencing appendicitis (which is rare, in and of itself in a child this age), the appendix has already ruptured by the time it is diagnosed. This morning there was talk of children who require morphine drips, weeks of IV antibiotics ...

Monday, Sashi had the stomach flu. Pooks sort of looked like she had it earlier in the day - but, she also had two nose bleeds while at the park, so I didn't attribute her nausea, etc. with illness until I put Sashi to bed that night and found myself changing her sheets --- 3x.

Tuesday, Sashi was quiet. She sat through Pookie and me pampering ourselves with real live pedicures at the salon and didn't utter a word. (highly unlike her!) Nothing really seemed amiss - I assumed she was just slowly recovering from Monday's quick illness.

Tuesday night at about 11:30, Sashi woke up screaming. Absolute gut-wrenching screaming. I could settle her down and another wave of screaming commenced. By 12:30 in the morning, with little people starting to toss and turn down the hall and dogs pacing, I threw in the towel and called the nurse's exchange. She heard one wail from the baby and asked me which hospital I wanted to visit that night. I chose one. A few hours later, an x-ray of her abdomen behind us (and not even another whimper out of her - go figure), the ER doc gave me two choices. Admit her so they could watch her and feed her at 8AM to see what happened. Or take her home and feed her at 8AM, then call the pediatrician to report. Gee. For frequent hospital flyers, that's a no brainer.

At 6:30 in the morning, at home, the screaming recommenced. By 9:00, I was at my wit's end again and called the nurse. Our pediatrician didn't give us a choice of where to go. She sent us to Children's. Unhappy that just an x-ray had been done at the previous hospital, she requested a sonogram of the belly. After the sonogram showed two possible scenarios and a CT scan had shown conclusively, Children's diagnosed the real issue - appendicitis - and requested an OR for Sashi.

By 8PM, the surgeon came to discuss what he had found. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 the worst, Sashi's perforation had been about a one. My husband praised me for my diligence. I smiled, but I knew truly it had been me at a loss for how to comfort her that sent me to phone the nurse in the first place. The pediatrician had made the right call, really. I had just dialed the numbers.

This morning, after a very challenging day yesterday (who needs pain medicine, anyway, when you're just 2, less than 24 hours post surgery, and can't speak for yourself...don't get me started), today Sashi has shown remarkable improvement (Gee. Tylenol. The Wonder Drug.) and the surgeon speaks (with two hands behind his back and all fingers crossed ... plus half his toes) that she may go home by the end of the weekend - on oral antibiotics.

So, I sat this morning, contemplating. And I realized. How often do I refer to myself as "Cranky Mommy"? I'm going to start calling myself "Joyful Mommy." Because I have much to find joy in. And far less to be cranky about.

When God Already Knows

(edited slightly)


My recent early morning moments of reflection brought me to realize that the Joy I seek is in the details. Maybe lovely. Maybe messy. But thrown together and mixed up in a big ol' pot of goodness. That's Life. And the blessing is in realizing it.

As I've studied the Bible, I've found myself also wrapped like a blanket in the timely words of A Mother's Book of Secrets. Linda Eyre writes:

When you are "in the fire," it is sometimes hard to recognize the value of what you are learning. But the day-by-day refining process, the problem solving, crisis resolution, mental stretching, mess clean-ups, sleep deprivation, and loving more than you ever thought possible truly make you into a smart, aware, beautifully refined individual.

The great secret is appreciating the refined person you are becoming in your trials.

So, today I marvel in the preparation that God gave me for today. Because yesterday I found myself in the hospital ER with my youngest. My healthiest baby. And within hours, she lay on the operating room table, awaiting the removal of her perforated appendix. At that moment, I saw that God knew what I was going to need well before I would know. I am lucky to see the beauty in the today. The knowledge that He cares for us and takes care of us in both amazing and small ways.

I will post more, but for now, this is enough.

four minutes

Recently while perusing the shelves of my local Christian book store, I came across a read about organization and the womanly follower of Christ. I claim one of those titles as a description of myself ... not the organizer one (in case there was a question). Although it wasn't the topic I sought on that particular day, I humored myself by reviewing a few of the book's pages.

In a few moments' time, my life was changed. I have been a life-long procrastinator. I proclaim it - and even apologize for it - often. I don't mean to be. It just happens. I stick my head in the sand rather than keep it up to witness all those messy pebbles ... you know, that, uh, form the beach. If I ignore it, it isn't there, right? If I wait to do it, it'll go away, right? Or there's always tomorrow. Right? Right?!

Take, for instance, the dishwasher. Did you know I loathe cleaning out the dishwasher? I mean, I can procrastinate on it all day. (If hubby's out of town, days and days, really.) You know what I learned in my book review Friday? It takes four minutes to clean out the dishwasher, on average. Four Minutes. Seriously? I tried it today. It was less than five. All day - 18 hours plus of awake time, I will watch the pile grow and grow in the sink and know, fully, in my head, that it needs to be done. Someone needs to clean out the dishwasher. Not me. I won't be the one. If I wait long enough little elvish maids will pop out from my junk drawers (yes, plural) and save me. I mean my sink. Yet, four minutes. That's all it would take to just end the horror of growing grossness in the stainless.

Hmm. Imagine how many days it takes to move the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer. I mean, seriously.

I think I probably need to go back and buy that book.

Unwrapping the Gifts

For many that read my blog, you know already that I am a HUGE fan of Emily's (from Chatting at the Sky). As I contemplated writing this evening, I thought of the phrase "unwrapping the gifts," which most assuredly comes from her Tuesdays Unwrapped series. I thought the idea appropriate, however, to tear open the presents that God left me yesterday.

I often think, right or not, that "I was a better mother when I just had two." This sort of goes along with the idea that we were all better mothers before we were - you know - mothers. Yesterday while looking for a book on my shelf (Power of a Praying Parent, by the way), I came across an old journal of mine. And reading it was an epiphany. On page 2, written 12/20/02, I wrote, "I am spiritually and physically spent." I went on to describe how Katelyn's chest scar was changing appearance and how that could possibly mean another infection for her. She experienced several infections - in her heart, her blood stream, and in her incisions - by the time she was just 15 months-old that led to months and months, literally, of IV antibiotic treatments. And these infections were the scary MRSA that we hear about on the news nowadays...

This one simple sentence, wrought with meaning in spite of its brevity, said something big to me yesterday. It said that mothering two was challenging, too. Looking back on those days, I forget that we were in the trenches with Katelyn's health. I forget that I was tired and cranky and felt ill-prepared to parent these two little beings. Much like I am tired and cranky and feel ill-prepared to now parent four little beings. I don't remember that. I remember the joy of mothering. The fun trips to the mall to play in the play area. Playing classical music and dancing with them in my arms. Pudding paintings. And cuddling.

Something else that I noticed in this journal were the repeated words:
Our two little ones are amazing. They are true blessings.

I hate to admit it, but I've been so caught up in the challenges of parenting four young children lately that I have truly failed to see the blessings in it. I haven't looked at them with a sparkle in my eye, as Shawni Eyre Pothier and her mother write about in this book.
Back then, every step, every new word, was documented. Today Sashi is going through the same remarkable development. But I watch her from the kitchen while I scramble to make breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Or clean up all the above before starting baths. And though I desire and talk of appreciating these moments and these days - for they are fleeting - I get stuck in the rut of living them and really haven't seen the gift for the packaging. Sometimes the gift is wrapped in shimmery paper with a sparkly bow. And I notice immediately. Other times, it's brown paper bag wrapping with a spit-up stain and spilled coffee adorning the top. And I look away.

So yesterday, through the means that He had available (and it's all available to Him), I feel God spoke to me. Through an old journal, a blog, and the possibility of a wonderful book to read. What lovely gifts, indeed. And would He have done this, if I hadn't woken at 5:30 with Him? I don't know. What I do know is that, very un-coicidentally, the Bible verses I am studying this week are all about the blessings we receive when we seek His wisdom. Maybe I saw them more clearly because I woke up early. Maybe He would have given them anyway. These are questions that I don't care to answer. All I want to know is, God, What will you teach me tomorrow? I'm listening, watching, and waiting. Now, perhaps, more than ever before.

You Win Some

Yesterday was a rough day. It was one of those days where, by the end, you just walk away and hide the tears and pray that tomorrow will be better. Yeah, one of those days.

I guess part of my frustration came from expectations. I've been telling myself for quite some time that I need to be giving my first fruits - of time - to God. Because asking myself to dive into some Bible time at 11:00 or 12:00 at night after a full day and an equally full evening wasn't giving Him anything, really. And I've been needing Him. Really, really needing Him.

A while ago, I learned about the 5:30 club. It may have been through my last Bible study; I don't really remember. But the idea is, you wake up - at 5:30. And this is when you read your Bible and talk to God. And Listen to God, too. Five thirty in the morning is a ludicrous concept. I'm a night owl, after all. I can easily burn the midnight oil and beyond. That's not a problem. The problem is getting up in the morning. You know - like around 5:30 when the baby first desires to share her time with me. Oh first fruits, she does give. Indeed. All day long sometimes, she'll give me fruits. Of fits and spills and tantrums and "NO!"

Yesterday morning there was no crying at 5:30. There were no calls of "Mama!" with increasing intensity. But there was a gentle nudging. He was calling me. Whispering, "Didn't you want to wake up? Now?" It was 5:27. I pulled a Bible study book that's been laying beside my bed for months onto my pillow. I opened it and my eyes. And I read. I pondered. I answered. And I listened.

And you know what? I had a really bad day. Really, really bad. The kind that make you wonder what He was thinking by putting you here in this place in this time with these lives. Because, as far as I was concerned, yesterday I was losing the battle. Karin - 0; Everybody Else - 427. I lost.

And then last night, I went through my normal routine. I read a few blogs. I caught up on others' lives. And then, out of no where, I found Light. I found this blog. And this book. And today, I found a journal from when the twins were a year old. And I found memories, and I found answers. And my expectations changed. Because God hasn't told us that giving Him our time - and our lives - will make all the challenges that face us every day go away. They may not even be reduced in number. But He uses them to draw us closer to Him. And He gives us Salvation.

For today, I gave Him my first fruits. He answered by giving me an awesome gift. I found Him where I wasn't expecting Him. And it was exactly what I needed.

Boys Can Party Too

In the days when I haven't been typing feverishly upon my laptop (or traipsing around famous St. Louis landmarks), I've planned, prepared for, and delivered upon the promise to return to the boys the favor I gave to Pookie - of a party. For no real reason. Monday last week was the All Star Homerun Derby. Here in downtown St. Louis. Since only my husband had tickets, the boys agreed it would be a great day to party at home. (And hubby stayed home to help with the party instead of attending the downtown festivities. Can you believe how awesome he is?!)

Again this time, we cut $ and x corners by phoning the attendees rather than sending formal invitations. This technique seems to work for us since all but one young boy was able to attend. (And because Mom procrastinated about moving forward on the party until, let's admit it - the last minute...) We took on a baseball theme with food - including hotdogs, of course, plus nachos and pretzels. Even Cracker Jacks - in the old-fashioned boxes!

We planned plenty of backyard activities for the 14 boys. We set out all the baseball gear. You know. Just in case. (It was a baseball party, after all.) Plus the slip-n-slides. And then, of course, there's the pool. (a no brainer. unless it rains. *stress* *cry* *pull hair* *pray* *plan a 'just in case'*) And inside we planned to show the derby at 7:00 plus offer Homerun Derby on Backyard Baseball - Wii style - in the basement.

All t's were crossed and i's dotted, I believe.

The boys had a blast. And ate a ton of food! I love that we recently repurposed a room in our basement - previously the study, now 'the media room' - complete with new leather sectional, big honkin' TV and the Wii - so some boys went downstairs, some boys stayed upstairs, and some boys - die hard swimmers - just stayed outside. It never felt like 14 boys.

And Just Because Party No. 2 of the Summer of 2009? Done.
(Thank God.)

Oh the Places We're Going

The kids made a list of things they wanted to do this summer. Things like 'go to Chuck E. Cheese's, take a ferry ride, ... see the arch.' We're making our way through the list during our staycay. This week - yes, The Arch. It's a place we just don't go to very often even if living right here in the city. We drive by it - and can see it every time we head to the hospital, but we just don't go up in it. So I guess that's why it's so thrilling when we do. Or, death-defying, according to Meiners, who promised from the moment we climbed out of the van that he was, under no certain circumstances, going to go to the top of the arch today - and risk death.

He made it to the top, but not without some encouragement.

We spent a great day seeing the Old Church and the Old Courthouse in addition to the Jefferson Expansion Museum. Next week, what should we do? The ferry ride, perhaps? Of maybe Grant's Farm. We have a week to decide what's next on our St. Louis Staycay!