1. I'm officially tired of moving. Bah! Seriously, don't want to do this again any time soon. Or ever would be fine too. I guess if I had to, I could, but I really don't see how military families do it. If I was moving into this house right now and knew that in two to three years I'd be moving out again, I'd be crying as I unpacked the boxes. I'm sure it would be easier if I wasn't 33 weeks pregnant, but still. Even if I was non-prego, totally healthy, best shape of my life, I wouldn't want to do this every three years. On the up side, it is very satisfying to look around the house and see what all we've accomplished in one week. Really, it's a totally livable house from the fully stocked kitchen to the up-and-running computer/internet/printer/etc. The biggest thing missing right now is just details. There's still stacks of decor needing homes, empty walls with pictures propped on the floor beneath them, and let's just not discuss the garage right now. It's already too hot out for me to want to even mess with it after around 9:30am. But for the most part, I'm totally exhausted, totally glad it's nearly over, and totally satisfied with how it's all turned out. Can't wait to show pictures when I'm satisfied with how everything looks! Moving on.
2. In the midst of all the un-packing boxes and finding places for everything, I had a 32 week appointment for the little guy this week. Sonogram and all. And wouldn't you know it, this little porker already weighs four pounds and eight ounces! Doesn't sound like much, I know. But that puts him in the 58th percentile. Also doesn't sound like anything to brag about. But at this stage with both Kolbe and Reagan they were dropping drastically in size. Not losing weight, just not gaining weight either. I want to say that it was around right now with Reagan that he had dropped all the way to the 14th percentile and they started giving me celestone shots to help him out "just in case" he was born early like Kolbe. And of course, he was. Go figure that the most outrageous, stressful, and physically taxing of my pregnancies would produce the most gestationally normal baby thus far. I'm trying not to get too optimistic that I could make it past 36 weeks, but with the baby doing so well, maybe there's hope. Note to self, though: the baby and the mama are two totally different people. He may be doing really well. And may even break six pounds, even at 36 weeks. But I've always been the problem. Not the baby. As for me, so far my blood pressure is staying in the acceptable range. The only real problem is that my swollen ankles have turned into swelling up the whole leg. And the bad kind. Where when you press down on it, the indentation is still there more than ten seconds later. Boo. (and oh-so-attractive in summertime shorts!) We'll see. I doubt being on my feet non-stop over the past week has helped whatsoever. Time to start taking it easy, laying off of the moving-in overload, and just relaxing and get ready to be Mama all over again. Prayers for the baby and me, por favor! Getting close to crunch time!
3. Can I just complain for two seconds about the ridiculous weather here in The Woodlands? Ugh! My parents have lived here for years, so I knew what I was getting myself into. But this has been absurd so far. Highs in the mid to high nineties, lows around, oh, seventy-eight. And it's May. Everyone keeps telling me that this is normally the rainy season here. Warm and humid, but frequent weekly rain showers and such. Not so much. It has rained once since we got here. One time! Maybe we brought Lubbock with us or something. Though we certainly didn't send the humidity up there in exchange for the drought. The humidity has got to be like eighty percent. So remarkably, even though it never rains, most vegetation still looks green. Not even kidding when I say that all outdoor activity (at least for me) halts by about 10am. Though we did go watch portions of the Ironman race that was held here in The Woodlands this past weekend. Quite fascinating. I could never. Never! Heck, I was sweating more than some of the finish line crossers as I stood aimlessly behind a barricade! Pitiful. I know.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
TTT: season 2, episode 20
1. We closed on Tuesday! Hooray! Then yesterday we hired movers to move everything from my parents garage into our new house. Great (read:horrible) story to tell about part of that. Maybe next week when I have more time/energy/a computer to write. Since then, nothing but unpacking boxes and setting up our new house! Yea!
2. I'm tired. But the good tired. Like where you're working hard toward something you like and it feels good.
3. Random things:
- opening boxes of food (non-perishable, of course) is awesome. Like going to the grocery store without going.
- I'm of the opinion that movers don't need to use nearly as much wrapping paper as they use. And a $3 falling apart lampshade doesn't need its own massive box.
- don't ever plant nut grass in your yard. It's ridiculous and ugly. Just saying.
- we have and insanely nice house...and insanely pitiful stuff to put in it. Someday, self...someday...
2. I'm tired. But the good tired. Like where you're working hard toward something you like and it feels good.
3. Random things:
- opening boxes of food (non-perishable, of course) is awesome. Like going to the grocery store without going.
- I'm of the opinion that movers don't need to use nearly as much wrapping paper as they use. And a $3 falling apart lampshade doesn't need its own massive box.
- don't ever plant nut grass in your yard. It's ridiculous and ugly. Just saying.
- we have and insanely nice house...and insanely pitiful stuff to put in it. Someday, self...someday...
Thursday, May 12, 2011
TTT: Season 2, Episode 19
1. Big week lies ahead...and I can't wait! We are scheduled to close on our new house a week from today and then officially move in next Friday. Our realtor totally put the teaser out there by emailing me earlier this week and asking if we'd be able to close on Tuesday or Wednesday instead. Uh, hello? Yes! Apparently everything that needs to be done has been done and she's just trying to get everything finalized with the title company, which I come to find out is actually located in downtown Houston. Un-cool. I had been telling Mark that he'd just need to take off an hour or so for the actual closing. That was based on the fact that it took me roughly twenty minutes for the closing in Lubbock. But heck, if we have to drive to downtown Houston, he might as well take off an entire morning! Our realtor is going to try to work out a way for us to close here in The Woodlands...and hopefully on Tuesday or Wednesday! I know...I sound like that giddy person who can't wait to move in to her new house. But really, this whole process, though relatively short compared to what some people go through, has felt like a long time coming and we're just ready to be in our house and getting ready for this new baby to come. I'll work on the inside (my head is about to explode with ideas of how to decorate, set things up, etc.) and Mark can stay out in the muggy, nasty heat and work on the yard. That whole yard maintenance thing will be kind of new for us. In Lubbock, our yard was admittedly the dumpy one on the block. No landscaping, hardly ever watered. Struggling. But the house we're moving into has really nice landscaping and in The Woodlands it's required that residence take care of their lawns. Not even kidding. So we'll have to grow ourselves a green thumb and get after it so we're not "that house" on the block. I actually look forward to it! (at least once this baby is out of my belly and it doesn't cut off my circulation to crouch down and pull a few weeds...)
2. Pediatricians and parents alike say that a large majority of kids "turn two" around the time they're about eighteen-months-old. I would have totally agreed with this after Kolbe. He went through his bull headed, strong willed, test of wills year from around eighteen months to around two-and-a-half. Keep in mind, he also added a new brother when he was just fifteen months old so some of it had to have been that fight for attention and relevance amidst all the other shenanigans going on at the time. Reagan has been a totally different case. Pleasant tempered, relatively mild, we wondered if he was ever going to "turn two" or if we were just blessed with a very compliant, happy, do-whatever-brother-agrees-to-do little guy.
Oh no. "The phase" has officially arrived. Strangely enough, it was as if he had it marked down on his personal calendar! One day he was fine, the next day he had a mind of his own. I'm still thinking it may be due, in part, to all of the changes going on. No longer living in the house he always knew as home, living with grandparents who travel quite a bit and are sometimes here sometimes not, all this talk about moving into his new house, not to mention the obvious new baby that lurks in the shadows! But a lot of it is just Rudy trying to understand the way the world works. It's as if he somehow thinks that since he can now clearly communicate with us using words, we should be willing to oblige to whatever it is he's demanding:
Reagan: Mama, bike ride.
Me: Rudy, we can't go on bike ride right now. We just finished breakfast.
Reagan: Bike Ride!
Me: You can ride your bike right here on the back patio while Mama cleans off the breakfast dishes.
Reagan: No! Bike riiide!
Me: Ru, I don't even have on my clothes yet! Look! Mama is still in her pajamas!
Reagan: Bike! Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiddddeeee! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(That "whaaa" can further be translated as: I know you know what "bike ride" means, lady! Quit acting like you don't. Why are you trying to act like it's so hard to understand what I'm saying!?! When I say "bike ride," I mean NOW!)
Poor creature. How disappointing to learn that the world doesn't do exactly what you want it to do when you want it to do it. And a mama of three boys certainly isn't going to be able to jump at your every request the second you ask. Or at all, if it's for some of the more ridiculous things you're requesting. (such as the king-size Butterfinger in the check-out lane at the store...though you know I'd love to help you take that one down...) You'll learn, little guy. Just may be an interesting few months up ahead.
3. I've been fortunate not to have to deal with death much in my life. A beloved grandmother when I was ten, a grand father I didn't know well right after Kolbe was born, my most special Popo just two years ago. My grandparents that have died all died in typical ways- aging, disease, illness- and with the typical scenarios of having lived a full life and been through the traditional trials and triumphs of any grown adult. But this week another special soul left my extended family. A most unique and beautiful person whose life and death are unlike any of the others that passed before. My sweet Aunt Kathy passed away on Saturday. She is my dad's little sister. Number three of seven kids. The beloved jewel of a large family. Kathy was born with Downs Syndrome in 1958, a time when many children with this condition were placed in homes and treated completely differently. Kathy, instead, was raised as any other child in their family and led an exceptional life. She went to school, competed in the Special Olympics, and even held down a job at The Olive Garden for twenty years. Kathy always did her best to be as anyone else would be, though her disease provided her with one special blessing. How often do we wish, especially during the difficult times, that we could go back to being a kid? When nothing seemed wrong with the world, we didn't have to worry about bad things happening, and we weren't responsible for all that life really entails. Because Kathy's mental capacity never exceeded that of an adolescent, she got to live that life for her entire existence. Even as she lay dying from Alzheimer's disease, she was still able to maintain the innocence I see in my own little boys. The freedom from major temptations, ugly habits, having to choose between right and wrong. The ability to just be beautiful and child-like for her entire fifty-two years of life. What a gift. As so in her passing this week, I found it so unique to look at a grown, adult person who had just died and not feel like I should "pray that she goes to heaven," so to say. Just as when a child dies, there's just that certainty that, still innocent, she ever so gracefully joined the choirs of heaven the moment her heart stopped beating. Her life will continue to impact us all and she will greatly be missed.
2. Pediatricians and parents alike say that a large majority of kids "turn two" around the time they're about eighteen-months-old. I would have totally agreed with this after Kolbe. He went through his bull headed, strong willed, test of wills year from around eighteen months to around two-and-a-half. Keep in mind, he also added a new brother when he was just fifteen months old so some of it had to have been that fight for attention and relevance amidst all the other shenanigans going on at the time. Reagan has been a totally different case. Pleasant tempered, relatively mild, we wondered if he was ever going to "turn two" or if we were just blessed with a very compliant, happy, do-whatever-brother-agrees-to-do little guy.
Oh no. "The phase" has officially arrived. Strangely enough, it was as if he had it marked down on his personal calendar! One day he was fine, the next day he had a mind of his own. I'm still thinking it may be due, in part, to all of the changes going on. No longer living in the house he always knew as home, living with grandparents who travel quite a bit and are sometimes here sometimes not, all this talk about moving into his new house, not to mention the obvious new baby that lurks in the shadows! But a lot of it is just Rudy trying to understand the way the world works. It's as if he somehow thinks that since he can now clearly communicate with us using words, we should be willing to oblige to whatever it is he's demanding:
Reagan: Mama, bike ride.
Me: Rudy, we can't go on bike ride right now. We just finished breakfast.
Reagan: Bike Ride!
Me: You can ride your bike right here on the back patio while Mama cleans off the breakfast dishes.
Reagan: No! Bike riiide!
Me: Ru, I don't even have on my clothes yet! Look! Mama is still in her pajamas!
Reagan: Bike! Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiddddeeee! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(That "whaaa" can further be translated as: I know you know what "bike ride" means, lady! Quit acting like you don't. Why are you trying to act like it's so hard to understand what I'm saying!?! When I say "bike ride," I mean NOW!)
Poor creature. How disappointing to learn that the world doesn't do exactly what you want it to do when you want it to do it. And a mama of three boys certainly isn't going to be able to jump at your every request the second you ask. Or at all, if it's for some of the more ridiculous things you're requesting. (such as the king-size Butterfinger in the check-out lane at the store...though you know I'd love to help you take that one down...) You'll learn, little guy. Just may be an interesting few months up ahead.
3. I've been fortunate not to have to deal with death much in my life. A beloved grandmother when I was ten, a grand father I didn't know well right after Kolbe was born, my most special Popo just two years ago. My grandparents that have died all died in typical ways- aging, disease, illness- and with the typical scenarios of having lived a full life and been through the traditional trials and triumphs of any grown adult. But this week another special soul left my extended family. A most unique and beautiful person whose life and death are unlike any of the others that passed before. My sweet Aunt Kathy passed away on Saturday. She is my dad's little sister. Number three of seven kids. The beloved jewel of a large family. Kathy was born with Downs Syndrome in 1958, a time when many children with this condition were placed in homes and treated completely differently. Kathy, instead, was raised as any other child in their family and led an exceptional life. She went to school, competed in the Special Olympics, and even held down a job at The Olive Garden for twenty years. Kathy always did her best to be as anyone else would be, though her disease provided her with one special blessing. How often do we wish, especially during the difficult times, that we could go back to being a kid? When nothing seemed wrong with the world, we didn't have to worry about bad things happening, and we weren't responsible for all that life really entails. Because Kathy's mental capacity never exceeded that of an adolescent, she got to live that life for her entire existence. Even as she lay dying from Alzheimer's disease, she was still able to maintain the innocence I see in my own little boys. The freedom from major temptations, ugly habits, having to choose between right and wrong. The ability to just be beautiful and child-like for her entire fifty-two years of life. What a gift. As so in her passing this week, I found it so unique to look at a grown, adult person who had just died and not feel like I should "pray that she goes to heaven," so to say. Just as when a child dies, there's just that certainty that, still innocent, she ever so gracefully joined the choirs of heaven the moment her heart stopped beating. Her life will continue to impact us all and she will greatly be missed.
 |
| Aunt Kathy and my dad...life is good! |
Thursday, May 5, 2011
TTT: Season 2, Episode 18
1. Ahhhhh. A normal week. Finally! No dramatic hospital visit to write about. Nothing catastrophic going on with pretty much anything. Just a fairly relaxing weekend with a fairly normal start to this week. Of course, as soon as I finish typing this, my computer is bound to explode or something. Really uneventful though. I'm more pregnant than last week, I suppose. In fact, each day I feel more and more pregnant. It's kind of reached that point where I'm tired again. Sleepy the whole first trimester, great the whole second trimester, and now back to sleepy again. And achy. Sleep isn't as good...just not comfortable. Though I'm still no where near the size of some of the poor souls I see waddling out of the OB's office. (Thank you, Lord, for my long torso.) Just moving right along with the little man and me. Starting to wonder just who he will be. Kolb and Rudy, though inseparable, are so completely different. Will this little guy be more like Kolbe? More like Rudy? His own special little self? Can't wait to find out!
2. Though uneventful overall, this week has presented one not-so-fun challenge: the low to no fat diet that's required of a bad gallbladder. Um, can I just say "Boo!" I guess I didn't realize how much I loved all my good (read: bad) foods. Man, it's hard to come up with legitimate meals that have little to no grams of fat! Even some of the basics of the basics have fat! I suppose in the long run it's a good thing that I'm going through this. It's certainly making me more aware of what I'm putting in my mouth and the effect it has on my body. And hopefully after the gallbladder is gone in a few months, I'll be able to at least try to make an effort to keep up a healthier eating lifestyle. But for now, one week in, I miss the flavors. And the yummies. The chocolate and peanut butter. The spices and seasonings. And I'll be honest: I have tried a few things...just to see how my body takes it...and there is a definite difference. I can literally feel about twenty minutes after trying something I shouldn't have my poor little digestive system trying to break it down. Not a good feeling. And I don't even want to tempt it to go back to the pain I felt last Wednesday. Eek. Just going to have to keep going out of my way to manage this until it's safe to do something about it! Totally finding it ironic that a mere six or seven weeks ago the doctors were telling me to eat everything full fat, avoid "light" type items in favor of the real deal so that I'd put on some of the weight that I obviously wasn't gaining. Guess that didn't really work out either. Oh well. It's just gonna have to be what it'll be. On a positive note, Mark had a patient the other day who said that she had all kinds of digestive problems (kinda like moi) and once she finally had a gallbladder attack and had it removed, it cleared nearly everything up. Man, wouldn't that be awesome! But then again, who is Laura with out incessant belching!?! Maybe there's the possibility of there being a lady in me after all!
3. It's been a while...and now it's not just Kolbe, but Rudy too! Time for an episode of:
Kolbe. What can I say about the guy? He's just so busy trying to figure out the world. How everything works, why it does what it does, what his part in it can be, and on and on. And the majority of the time, his assessments turn in to something hilarious.
Kolbe: There's an airplane!
Pinkie: Where?
Kolbe: Up there!
Pinkie: Man, Kolbe. I don't see it. You sure do have good eyes.
Kolbe: I know. I'm good looking.
For the next one, a little background: In The Woodlands, there are no visible power lines. Everything is buried beneath the ground to create a more natural looking environment. We drove down into Houston the other day, though, to visit a Catholic bookstore. Driving down a busy street...
Kolbe: Pinkie, why is that wire following us?
Pinkie: What wire?
Kolbe: Up there. That wire is following us down the road.
Pinkie: Honey, those are phone lines.
Kolbe: But their following our car. Down the road.
(Amazing how he perceives what's happening when we're in motion!)
Dear Kolb has also developed a knack for saying horribly awkward things in public. Things that other people can definitely hear and I just don't quite know how to respond appropriately. Such as a question he posed to me on the toothpaste aisle at Target the other day:
Kolbe: Mama, why is that man walking?
Me: Well, I guess he's looking for some toothpaste too.
Kolbe: But he shouldn't be walking. He's old. He needs to be in a wheelchair.
Me: (Dohhhhhhhhhh!!!!)
Rudy, on the other hand, is just starting to realize the power of stringing together lots and lots of words. He doesn't necessarily say funny things quite yet, though it's fascinating to hear him become the commentator of all that takes place before his eyes: "Mama making bed." "Roley poley crawling on Mama." "Good dob, budder!" (I hear this one in the car every time Kolbe manages to buckle his own car seat buckles without help...Good job, brother!) He also loves to repeat "Bike ride." over and over again. Or at least until someone obliges and takes him on a bike ride. And I think it's precious how he calls every meal "yunch." Even when he stumbles in at 6:30am and is tugging on my arm from the side of the bed: "Mama, yunch. Yunch." Kid sure does love to eat!
He did have a little funny last night at dinner. After we were finished eating and were just sitting around visiting, he stood up in his seat and pulled his shirt up to his chest: "Mama, yook! I have baby budder in my belly!" Hey, at least we know he's finally aware of the situation at hand! Sweet little boys!
2. Though uneventful overall, this week has presented one not-so-fun challenge: the low to no fat diet that's required of a bad gallbladder. Um, can I just say "Boo!" I guess I didn't realize how much I loved all my good (read: bad) foods. Man, it's hard to come up with legitimate meals that have little to no grams of fat! Even some of the basics of the basics have fat! I suppose in the long run it's a good thing that I'm going through this. It's certainly making me more aware of what I'm putting in my mouth and the effect it has on my body. And hopefully after the gallbladder is gone in a few months, I'll be able to at least try to make an effort to keep up a healthier eating lifestyle. But for now, one week in, I miss the flavors. And the yummies. The chocolate and peanut butter. The spices and seasonings. And I'll be honest: I have tried a few things...just to see how my body takes it...and there is a definite difference. I can literally feel about twenty minutes after trying something I shouldn't have my poor little digestive system trying to break it down. Not a good feeling. And I don't even want to tempt it to go back to the pain I felt last Wednesday. Eek. Just going to have to keep going out of my way to manage this until it's safe to do something about it! Totally finding it ironic that a mere six or seven weeks ago the doctors were telling me to eat everything full fat, avoid "light" type items in favor of the real deal so that I'd put on some of the weight that I obviously wasn't gaining. Guess that didn't really work out either. Oh well. It's just gonna have to be what it'll be. On a positive note, Mark had a patient the other day who said that she had all kinds of digestive problems (kinda like moi) and once she finally had a gallbladder attack and had it removed, it cleared nearly everything up. Man, wouldn't that be awesome! But then again, who is Laura with out incessant belching!?! Maybe there's the possibility of there being a lady in me after all!
3. It's been a while...and now it's not just Kolbe, but Rudy too! Time for an episode of:
Kolbe Kwotes and Rudy Ramblings!
Kolbe. What can I say about the guy? He's just so busy trying to figure out the world. How everything works, why it does what it does, what his part in it can be, and on and on. And the majority of the time, his assessments turn in to something hilarious.
Kolbe: There's an airplane!
Pinkie: Where?
Kolbe: Up there!
Pinkie: Man, Kolbe. I don't see it. You sure do have good eyes.
Kolbe: I know. I'm good looking.
For the next one, a little background: In The Woodlands, there are no visible power lines. Everything is buried beneath the ground to create a more natural looking environment. We drove down into Houston the other day, though, to visit a Catholic bookstore. Driving down a busy street...
Kolbe: Pinkie, why is that wire following us?
Pinkie: What wire?
Kolbe: Up there. That wire is following us down the road.
Pinkie: Honey, those are phone lines.
Kolbe: But their following our car. Down the road.
(Amazing how he perceives what's happening when we're in motion!)
Dear Kolb has also developed a knack for saying horribly awkward things in public. Things that other people can definitely hear and I just don't quite know how to respond appropriately. Such as a question he posed to me on the toothpaste aisle at Target the other day:
Kolbe: Mama, why is that man walking?
Me: Well, I guess he's looking for some toothpaste too.
Kolbe: But he shouldn't be walking. He's old. He needs to be in a wheelchair.
Me: (Dohhhhhhhhhh!!!!)
Rudy, on the other hand, is just starting to realize the power of stringing together lots and lots of words. He doesn't necessarily say funny things quite yet, though it's fascinating to hear him become the commentator of all that takes place before his eyes: "Mama making bed." "Roley poley crawling on Mama." "Good dob, budder!" (I hear this one in the car every time Kolbe manages to buckle his own car seat buckles without help...Good job, brother!) He also loves to repeat "Bike ride." over and over again. Or at least until someone obliges and takes him on a bike ride. And I think it's precious how he calls every meal "yunch." Even when he stumbles in at 6:30am and is tugging on my arm from the side of the bed: "Mama, yunch. Yunch." Kid sure does love to eat!
He did have a little funny last night at dinner. After we were finished eating and were just sitting around visiting, he stood up in his seat and pulled his shirt up to his chest: "Mama, yook! I have baby budder in my belly!" Hey, at least we know he's finally aware of the situation at hand! Sweet little boys!
Friday, April 29, 2011
TTT: Season 2, Episode 17
1. I suppose I could have stayed up late last night and gotten my post done, but considering I had just been discharged from the hospital a few hours earlier, I decided sleep was a slightly more pressing matter and opted against non-essential journaling. Yes, I got to spend Wednesday afternoon through Thursday afternoon at the local hospital with a bad case of gallstones. Leave it to me, I tell ya. Actually, Mark and I were totally thrilled that it was just gallstones and not something else. Because as Wednesday morning wore into the afternoon I really wasn't feeling well. It had gone from uh, I think I have a really upset stomach to oh dear Lord, this is starting to feel just like what it felt like before Kolbe was born. I developed really sharp sustained pain across the entire top of my abdomen that would not pass and only got worse. Needless to say, I started panicking. Surely this wasn't HELLP syndrome happening all over again...and this early in the pregnancy! Mark came home from work and rushed me to the hospital where I was "that patient" who was dry heaving in a trash can making horribly disturbing noises and begging for someone to help me. After getting an IV started with pain medicine and something to stop the violent act of barfing up nothing, they were able to check my blood pressure. Totally normal. And rush my blood off to the lab. Liver enzymes came back normal too. Actually slightly low! With the threat of HELLP seeming to be out of the way, they did an ultrasound on my abdomen and found a happy baby boy squirming around and balloon that was supposed to be solid black on the screen that was instead decorated with lots and lots of polka dots. A lovely "hot gallbladder" as they called it. Luckily, this was not an obstetric emergency at all. Just something that could have happened at any time to anyone and just chose to happen to me at not exactly the best time. 'Cause normally they would just do a simple laproscopic surgery to remove the gallbladder and I'd be on my way. But at this far into my pregnancy, they wouldn't be able to do it laproscopically and would have to make a major incision to get to it. Plus, the anesthesia and swelling would put the baby under a lot of pressure and could induce preterm labor. No thanks on either of those. So instead, I'm left to eat a low-fat, low-spice, bland diet until after the baby arrives and I can safely have the surgery. Though lent just ended, it looks like I'm now giving up fried foods and all things yummy for the next eight weeks or so. Boo. But I'll gladly do it to not have to endure that sharp pain again and keep our little guy safe for a few more weeks. Just another medical dilemma to add to my repertoire. I jokingly told Mark that I ought to have them go ahead and take out my appendix while they're in there. I've already had the tonsils and adenoids removed. Now the gallbladder. Surely the appendix is the next useless organ to try to do me in!
2. By moving to a community like The Woodlands, we knew there'd be the temptation to "keep up with the Joneses" from time to time. But we had no idea that it would kick in before we even got settled into our own house. About sixty dollars, one helmet and a twelve inch bike later, we've already fallen victim to the curse at least once. My parents' street is packed with little boys. Really. There's Joey, Timmy, Lucas, Noah, Liam, Collin, Kolbe, and Rudy...all under the age of five. And that's just on my parents' end of the street! The boys have loved having other little boys to play with but we quickly discovered that all the other three-year-olds already have real bikes with training wheels. Not measly tricycles like Kolbe. They would all go racing down the street and Kolbe would be left in the dust, peddling his heart out and getting nowhere. Feeling the pressure for a "real little boy bike" from Kolbe, we broke down and headed to Academy for the grand purchase. After an hour or so of assembly, he finally had his bike. And within a day or two could give Lance Armstrong a run for his money. The daily routine has now become at least two to three bike rides per day. And we're not talking just down the street and back. Pa takes him on these roughly two mile treks, broken up by time at the park, of course. And Rudy does his best to keep up on the little bike Kolbe got when he turned two that's more of a tricycle but appears to also have training wheels so he always chooses it over the faster, standard tricycle. Has to be as much like big brother as possible! So while yes, it makes me cringe to think that the only reason we felt so inspired to buy the bike was because "the other kids his age had one," I must say it's been a more-than-worth-it purchase. Provides endless hours of entertainment. And might I mention, children who ride bikes for long periods of time take fantastic naps!
3. Did you have a good Easter? We sure did. Heck, the overload of chocolate is probably what led to the aforementioned gallbladder attack! Nevertheless, it sure was fun to see the boys get into the holiday and start to understand the meaning behind why we celebrate it. We spent lots of time reading Easter books. The inquisitive Kolbe loved to ask the same questions every time: Why did they do that? Why didn't they like him? How did he come back to life? Where does Jesus live now? While Rudy would just frown and say, "awwww..." on pages when Jesus died and then cheer wildly when he was raised from the dead. And repeat over and over "Jesus. Cross. Jesus. Cross." Simple and innocent, yet somehow, they get the point. They were at about the same level with the whole Easter egg hunt idea. Kolbe was all over it. Rudy was thinking You want me to do what? Why? It's so fun watching these guys grow up. And exciting to see them learn and celebrate all the traditions that are so dear to us.
2. By moving to a community like The Woodlands, we knew there'd be the temptation to "keep up with the Joneses" from time to time. But we had no idea that it would kick in before we even got settled into our own house. About sixty dollars, one helmet and a twelve inch bike later, we've already fallen victim to the curse at least once. My parents' street is packed with little boys. Really. There's Joey, Timmy, Lucas, Noah, Liam, Collin, Kolbe, and Rudy...all under the age of five. And that's just on my parents' end of the street! The boys have loved having other little boys to play with but we quickly discovered that all the other three-year-olds already have real bikes with training wheels. Not measly tricycles like Kolbe. They would all go racing down the street and Kolbe would be left in the dust, peddling his heart out and getting nowhere. Feeling the pressure for a "real little boy bike" from Kolbe, we broke down and headed to Academy for the grand purchase. After an hour or so of assembly, he finally had his bike. And within a day or two could give Lance Armstrong a run for his money. The daily routine has now become at least two to three bike rides per day. And we're not talking just down the street and back. Pa takes him on these roughly two mile treks, broken up by time at the park, of course. And Rudy does his best to keep up on the little bike Kolbe got when he turned two that's more of a tricycle but appears to also have training wheels so he always chooses it over the faster, standard tricycle. Has to be as much like big brother as possible! So while yes, it makes me cringe to think that the only reason we felt so inspired to buy the bike was because "the other kids his age had one," I must say it's been a more-than-worth-it purchase. Provides endless hours of entertainment. And might I mention, children who ride bikes for long periods of time take fantastic naps!
3. Did you have a good Easter? We sure did. Heck, the overload of chocolate is probably what led to the aforementioned gallbladder attack! Nevertheless, it sure was fun to see the boys get into the holiday and start to understand the meaning behind why we celebrate it. We spent lots of time reading Easter books. The inquisitive Kolbe loved to ask the same questions every time: Why did they do that? Why didn't they like him? How did he come back to life? Where does Jesus live now? While Rudy would just frown and say, "awwww..." on pages when Jesus died and then cheer wildly when he was raised from the dead. And repeat over and over "Jesus. Cross. Jesus. Cross." Simple and innocent, yet somehow, they get the point. They were at about the same level with the whole Easter egg hunt idea. Kolbe was all over it. Rudy was thinking You want me to do what? Why? It's so fun watching these guys grow up. And exciting to see them learn and celebrate all the traditions that are so dear to us.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
TTT: Season 2, Episode 16
1. Finding Time. Yikes! I'm getting more and more "laid back" with my weekly post and trying to have it done by Thursday morning. You'd think that by living with my parents and having help with the boys more often that it would be the easiest time for me to write ever. And I really thought that this week would finally be more relaxed and afford me a little more "me" time. But as I've discovered, this whole moving-to-a-new-city-selling-a-house-buying-a-house-having-a-baby scheme I've got going on here is just one thing after another. Non-stop. So last night when I went to ponder what I'd write about today, I found an email in my inbox from our lender at the bank asking for a whole plethora of additional documents...to have to him by noon today. Why anyone thinks that giving someone a deadline that's twelve hours away to collect a bunch of financial documents is a feasible request is beyond me. So this morning was spent scrambling to get the documents, scan them, send them, yadayadayada. Oh, and make it to a 10:20 sonogram as well. See? Never ends. But all's well that ends well and we're just hoping it all ends well.
2. Gunny. Quite the momentous event occurred for one, Rudy Mark Asmussen, this week. Most of you are probably aware of my child's addiction to his pacifier "Gunny or GunGun" and our blatant disdain for the vile thing. To be real honest, I always thought that the whole my-kid-refuses-to-give-up-his-pacifier thing was a bunch of hog wash. Be the parent! Just take the thing away from him! After all, Kolbe did have a pacifier that he loved to chew on, but since he wasn't able to suck until after his first year of life, it wasn't very difficult to give it up. I had no idea how strong the sucking addiction could be. So when Rudy came along, I had no problem letting him have one. And let me just remind you...in my own defense...that I had two babies. A fifteen-month-old and a preemie newborn. Both still requiring baby care and attention, neither one able to adequately communicate (in words) with me, etc. At times I was desperate for a little peace from one so I could tend to the other. So the paci became a little bit of a crutch for me as well as the tyke. But then the attempts to get rid of GunGun began and so did the nightmares. To say that Gunny had become Rudy's attachment item (such as a blankie or stuffed animal) is an understatement. We'd catch him doing bizarre things like rubbing it all over his cheeks and forehead. Crazy, I know. A few months back we were finally able to get it to where he understood that he could only have Gunny when he was sleeping. He had to be in bed and if he got out of bed, he had to turn Gunny in to the powers that be. He became OK with this system, though any time anything emotional happened, he still asked for it.
Then on Monday when Rudy woke up from his nap, he came to give me a few cuddles and as I took Gunny from him I told him that it was stinky and nasty. I told him that we needed to throw GunGun away because it was yucky and big boys didn't need a GunGun and since Baby Brother would be here soon and Rudy would officially be the big brother, he didn't need Gunny. Without any prompting, he walked over to the trash can, took the lid off, and threw Gunny in. I was shocked, to say the least. Not wanting to abandon the open door, I cheered for him wildly and decided we had to go with it. After leaving the room I snuck back in and removed Gunny. (Lord knows he'd go looking for it later...) And that night was the first night without the beloved GunGun. There certainly have been tears and lots of clinging to Mama as he goes through withdrawals in order to fall asleep...I've had to talk him down from the ledge a time or two. But after a few days, he has stopped asking, and when he does, he's willing to accept the fact that the trash man already came and took Gunny away. Whew. Finally jumped that hurdle. And really, we should have done it a long time ago, but with the moving and all the other changes, I couldn't bare to add any more emotionalness to the situation. I'll definitely be re-evaluating my view on the paci once the baby arrives. But then again, in every sonogram we've had he's been a thumb sucker so we just may not have that problem!
3. Holy Week. In the Catholic Church, this week is known as Holy Week. The days leading up to Easter. Such a great time for reflection, adoration, praise, awe, and appreciation for what Christ did for us so many years ago. Ironically, as a child, I cringed when my parents loaded us up in the van to head to every single event held at the church during that week. Now as an adult, I yearn to go but find it next to impossible during my current season in life. My good friend Melanie posted this quote on her facebook page this week:
"It is most laudable in a married woman to be devout, but she must never forget that she is a housewife. And sometimes she must leave God at the altar to find Him in her housekeeping." -St. Frances of Rome
I've found a lot of solace in that quote this week...how cool, right!?! 'Cause so many times I've been plagued with that feeling that I'm just not doing enough in my relationship with God because I'm constantly taking care of the house, tending to the babies, handling the myriad of other duties (as mentioned in #1, for example) instead of truly diving in further to my relationship with the one who has given me all of these blessings. But really discerning the notion that I am exactly where God has put me for a reason has been eye opening. Just because I'm not at each of the "public events" doesn't mean that he isn't alive and meeting me constantly in the five minutes it takes to run the vacuum, the moments that I lie in silence waiting for the babies to fall asleep, or even the few seconds it takes to fill yet another sippy cup. And just because by the end of the day when I'm so exhausted that I crash instead of thumbing through a Bible study doesn't mean that I'm not growing. In fact, these years of straight service just might be similar to the many years of unrecorded time in Christ's life where he too was "just in service." My time will come some day when I'll be able to attend each and every religious event I've every wanted to partake in. I'll gladly go. And probably sadly miss the ones that used to keep me from them.
2. Gunny. Quite the momentous event occurred for one, Rudy Mark Asmussen, this week. Most of you are probably aware of my child's addiction to his pacifier "Gunny or GunGun" and our blatant disdain for the vile thing. To be real honest, I always thought that the whole my-kid-refuses-to-give-up-his-pacifier thing was a bunch of hog wash. Be the parent! Just take the thing away from him! After all, Kolbe did have a pacifier that he loved to chew on, but since he wasn't able to suck until after his first year of life, it wasn't very difficult to give it up. I had no idea how strong the sucking addiction could be. So when Rudy came along, I had no problem letting him have one. And let me just remind you...in my own defense...that I had two babies. A fifteen-month-old and a preemie newborn. Both still requiring baby care and attention, neither one able to adequately communicate (in words) with me, etc. At times I was desperate for a little peace from one so I could tend to the other. So the paci became a little bit of a crutch for me as well as the tyke. But then the attempts to get rid of GunGun began and so did the nightmares. To say that Gunny had become Rudy's attachment item (such as a blankie or stuffed animal) is an understatement. We'd catch him doing bizarre things like rubbing it all over his cheeks and forehead. Crazy, I know. A few months back we were finally able to get it to where he understood that he could only have Gunny when he was sleeping. He had to be in bed and if he got out of bed, he had to turn Gunny in to the powers that be. He became OK with this system, though any time anything emotional happened, he still asked for it.
Then on Monday when Rudy woke up from his nap, he came to give me a few cuddles and as I took Gunny from him I told him that it was stinky and nasty. I told him that we needed to throw GunGun away because it was yucky and big boys didn't need a GunGun and since Baby Brother would be here soon and Rudy would officially be the big brother, he didn't need Gunny. Without any prompting, he walked over to the trash can, took the lid off, and threw Gunny in. I was shocked, to say the least. Not wanting to abandon the open door, I cheered for him wildly and decided we had to go with it. After leaving the room I snuck back in and removed Gunny. (Lord knows he'd go looking for it later...) And that night was the first night without the beloved GunGun. There certainly have been tears and lots of clinging to Mama as he goes through withdrawals in order to fall asleep...I've had to talk him down from the ledge a time or two. But after a few days, he has stopped asking, and when he does, he's willing to accept the fact that the trash man already came and took Gunny away. Whew. Finally jumped that hurdle. And really, we should have done it a long time ago, but with the moving and all the other changes, I couldn't bare to add any more emotionalness to the situation. I'll definitely be re-evaluating my view on the paci once the baby arrives. But then again, in every sonogram we've had he's been a thumb sucker so we just may not have that problem!
3. Holy Week. In the Catholic Church, this week is known as Holy Week. The days leading up to Easter. Such a great time for reflection, adoration, praise, awe, and appreciation for what Christ did for us so many years ago. Ironically, as a child, I cringed when my parents loaded us up in the van to head to every single event held at the church during that week. Now as an adult, I yearn to go but find it next to impossible during my current season in life. My good friend Melanie posted this quote on her facebook page this week:
"It is most laudable in a married woman to be devout, but she must never forget that she is a housewife. And sometimes she must leave God at the altar to find Him in her housekeeping." -St. Frances of Rome
I've found a lot of solace in that quote this week...how cool, right!?! 'Cause so many times I've been plagued with that feeling that I'm just not doing enough in my relationship with God because I'm constantly taking care of the house, tending to the babies, handling the myriad of other duties (as mentioned in #1, for example) instead of truly diving in further to my relationship with the one who has given me all of these blessings. But really discerning the notion that I am exactly where God has put me for a reason has been eye opening. Just because I'm not at each of the "public events" doesn't mean that he isn't alive and meeting me constantly in the five minutes it takes to run the vacuum, the moments that I lie in silence waiting for the babies to fall asleep, or even the few seconds it takes to fill yet another sippy cup. And just because by the end of the day when I'm so exhausted that I crash instead of thumbing through a Bible study doesn't mean that I'm not growing. In fact, these years of straight service just might be similar to the many years of unrecorded time in Christ's life where he too was "just in service." My time will come some day when I'll be able to attend each and every religious event I've every wanted to partake in. I'll gladly go. And probably sadly miss the ones that used to keep me from them.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
TTT: Season 2, Episode 15
Barely squeaking this one in as time runs out!
1. Wrap Up. After typing last weeks entry with just my thumbs and one eyeball on an iPhone in an airport terminal, I did, in fact, end up making it safely back to The Woodlands and my little family that I missed so greatly. It was quite the whirlwind trip and I was so glad to see my little ones upon returning. But the few days after returning, I was plagued with the landslide of let down after a momentous occasion. You know, where you totally build up all your adrenaline to get through something and you manage to get through it and then you're just totally wiped out. So I've been trying to rest. Trying to get things back to normal here at my parents' house. Trying to re-establish a little bit of a routine with the boys. That and other things like getting our new house inspected, getting all of our documentation together for the loan on the new house, going to doctors appointments to check on the new little fella. Just because one big event ends doesn't mean there aren't a few more on the horizon. The baby is doing well, by the way. Getting stronger and stronger...I'm almost to the point where I look forward to him not being able to move around as much! Some of those jabs are rough! And my blood pressure is staying in an okay range right now. Just nine more weeks till I'm thirty-six weeks. With all that has gone on, this has got to be the fastest pregnancy ever.
2. The New House. I mentioned it briefly last week but was still somewhat in the is-this-really-going-to-happen mindset. By now, it's definitely a reality. We are buying the "dream house." The one that we just loved that we were mad at our realtor for even showing us because it was out of our price range and we couldn't help but compare every single house to it. The one that we imagined ourselves living in ten or fifteen years from now.
On the Saturday before I left for Lubbock, Mark and I went and looked at a house that had just come on the market that day. It was in our price range and the online pictures looked nice, so with our hopes up, we decided to check it out. As Mark accurately said as we drove away, "It's forgettable." We spent the rest of the afternoon debating whether or not we were being too picky. Should we just settle on something that "would work" for now with the thoughts of moving in to something different later? Or should we just keep looking and hope to find something that we could see ourselves in for a long time? We just couldn't see ourselves putting an offer in on a house that didn't hold a candle to either the "dream house" or the house we had previous been offering on. Especially when many of them were asking the same price. Our realtor suggested that maybe we should just put an offer in on the dream house even though it was out of our price range and see what the say. After all, an offer is better than no offer at all. I argued that at the top of our budget, we'd still need them to come down roughly fifteen thousand dollars. Having only been on the market for about twenty-five days, who in their right mind would take that!?! Mark was in agreement with the realtor...what do we have to lose? It's not like we're meeting these people in public and they're going to spit in our faces or something.
To make a long story a little bit shorter, after several days of going back and forth and lots of pestering our loan officer to crunch numbers for us, we managed to score the house we thought we'd never be able to get. Apparently, with a move to Wisconsin just weeks away, these owners were desperate to sell their home. And with the help of their company's relocation service, they were able to meet us where we needed to be to make it happen. Again, never in a million years...
But when all is said and done, here is where we'll be living in just a few short weeks:
More pictures and details to come soon!
3. Our Newest Godson. This time last week, I let on about a special little miracle that was in the process of taking place for our dear friends, Ben and Erin Johnson. Ben and Erin have been eager to start of family for several years now and for reasons known only by God, it hasn't happened. Our friendship with them grew from casual acquaintances to hang-out-multiple-times-a-week over this three year span so we shared in much of the ups and downs, hopefuls and heartaches of the journey. Mark and I never could quite figure out how they could tolerate to be around us as our family continued to grow, but in some stories, certain relationships are just meant to be. And that's just how God brought us together.
Ben and Erin began to be open to idea of adoption over the past year or so but were finding it difficult to figure out how to make it happen with such high costs. In one of the more unique stories I've ever heard, God amazingly brought them to a young pregnant mother through one of her high school friends that happened to be a part of the youth group that Erin helps out with. Within two weeks of hearing this girl's story, Ben and Erin became the parents of her biological child. Jacob Cole was born Saturday morning and weighed just three pounds and nine ounces. Due to the birth mom's struggle with pre-eclampsia, he was definitely early and is receiving care in the NICU. While I couldn't be there for the event (and what a tease!...I had just left roughly ten hours earlier!) I was blessed to get to spend the middle of the night hours texting back and forth with Erin from the waiting room getting the play-by-play as he was welcomed into this world.
Ben and Erin became the legal guardians of Jacob Cole on Monday morning. Mark and I feel so blessed to get to be part of such an amazing story and are honored to serve as Jacob's godparents. (That makes five male souls that we are responsible for lifting up now...Kolbe, Reagan, Grant, John, and Jacob...girls are just not in the cards for us!) We love this little guy already and can't wait to meet him face to face.
Welcome to the world, Jacob Cole Johnson! You are so loved, so wanted, so special, and so blessed!
1. Wrap Up. After typing last weeks entry with just my thumbs and one eyeball on an iPhone in an airport terminal, I did, in fact, end up making it safely back to The Woodlands and my little family that I missed so greatly. It was quite the whirlwind trip and I was so glad to see my little ones upon returning. But the few days after returning, I was plagued with the landslide of let down after a momentous occasion. You know, where you totally build up all your adrenaline to get through something and you manage to get through it and then you're just totally wiped out. So I've been trying to rest. Trying to get things back to normal here at my parents' house. Trying to re-establish a little bit of a routine with the boys. That and other things like getting our new house inspected, getting all of our documentation together for the loan on the new house, going to doctors appointments to check on the new little fella. Just because one big event ends doesn't mean there aren't a few more on the horizon. The baby is doing well, by the way. Getting stronger and stronger...I'm almost to the point where I look forward to him not being able to move around as much! Some of those jabs are rough! And my blood pressure is staying in an okay range right now. Just nine more weeks till I'm thirty-six weeks. With all that has gone on, this has got to be the fastest pregnancy ever.
2. The New House. I mentioned it briefly last week but was still somewhat in the is-this-really-going-to-happen mindset. By now, it's definitely a reality. We are buying the "dream house." The one that we just loved that we were mad at our realtor for even showing us because it was out of our price range and we couldn't help but compare every single house to it. The one that we imagined ourselves living in ten or fifteen years from now.
On the Saturday before I left for Lubbock, Mark and I went and looked at a house that had just come on the market that day. It was in our price range and the online pictures looked nice, so with our hopes up, we decided to check it out. As Mark accurately said as we drove away, "It's forgettable." We spent the rest of the afternoon debating whether or not we were being too picky. Should we just settle on something that "would work" for now with the thoughts of moving in to something different later? Or should we just keep looking and hope to find something that we could see ourselves in for a long time? We just couldn't see ourselves putting an offer in on a house that didn't hold a candle to either the "dream house" or the house we had previous been offering on. Especially when many of them were asking the same price. Our realtor suggested that maybe we should just put an offer in on the dream house even though it was out of our price range and see what the say. After all, an offer is better than no offer at all. I argued that at the top of our budget, we'd still need them to come down roughly fifteen thousand dollars. Having only been on the market for about twenty-five days, who in their right mind would take that!?! Mark was in agreement with the realtor...what do we have to lose? It's not like we're meeting these people in public and they're going to spit in our faces or something.
To make a long story a little bit shorter, after several days of going back and forth and lots of pestering our loan officer to crunch numbers for us, we managed to score the house we thought we'd never be able to get. Apparently, with a move to Wisconsin just weeks away, these owners were desperate to sell their home. And with the help of their company's relocation service, they were able to meet us where we needed to be to make it happen. Again, never in a million years...
But when all is said and done, here is where we'll be living in just a few short weeks:
3. Our Newest Godson. This time last week, I let on about a special little miracle that was in the process of taking place for our dear friends, Ben and Erin Johnson. Ben and Erin have been eager to start of family for several years now and for reasons known only by God, it hasn't happened. Our friendship with them grew from casual acquaintances to hang-out-multiple-times-a-week over this three year span so we shared in much of the ups and downs, hopefuls and heartaches of the journey. Mark and I never could quite figure out how they could tolerate to be around us as our family continued to grow, but in some stories, certain relationships are just meant to be. And that's just how God brought us together.
Ben and Erin began to be open to idea of adoption over the past year or so but were finding it difficult to figure out how to make it happen with such high costs. In one of the more unique stories I've ever heard, God amazingly brought them to a young pregnant mother through one of her high school friends that happened to be a part of the youth group that Erin helps out with. Within two weeks of hearing this girl's story, Ben and Erin became the parents of her biological child. Jacob Cole was born Saturday morning and weighed just three pounds and nine ounces. Due to the birth mom's struggle with pre-eclampsia, he was definitely early and is receiving care in the NICU. While I couldn't be there for the event (and what a tease!...I had just left roughly ten hours earlier!) I was blessed to get to spend the middle of the night hours texting back and forth with Erin from the waiting room getting the play-by-play as he was welcomed into this world.
Ben and Erin became the legal guardians of Jacob Cole on Monday morning. Mark and I feel so blessed to get to be part of such an amazing story and are honored to serve as Jacob's godparents. (That makes five male souls that we are responsible for lifting up now...Kolbe, Reagan, Grant, John, and Jacob...girls are just not in the cards for us!) We love this little guy already and can't wait to meet him face to face.
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