Posts
Cinnamon Roll Bubble Bites
3 months ago
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
There Is No Time
You know those moments that you hear something or read something and it's almost like it was written or spoken just for you...
I just had one of those moments as I was reading a friends blog.
She said this...
"when you think about life, and how short it is, there is no time".
No time to sit and let worry or fear or frustration to steal your joy, your happiness, your contentment...
I needed that reminder.
Lately, I've been down, worried, frustrated, even fearful.
This has been a long 9 months.
It started out with me so sick that I couldn't get out of bed.
By the time I felt well enough to get out again, the cold and rain had set in.
Then there was the bed rest.
And now the snow that never ends, that I worry will keep me from the hospital that I will soon need to get myself and precious child to.
There's not a part of my body that doesn't ache and I don't mean the usual aches and pains, I mean pain...real pain. The kind that keeps you awake, moaning all night.
I've been in labor before, and had a natural birth and when I tell you that my back hurts, I mean it hurts worse than it did in that delivery room.
I feel isolated and alone.
I miss my family and wish that I had them closer.
I feel trapped.
Like I need to escape this place...
Wishing some days I could escape my own skin.
But then, that one line speaks to me..."there is no time".
And I realize that all of those negative feelings are wasting precious time. They're robbing me of my joy...and my life.
I have so much more to be thankful for...
The love of my husband, who has been beyond supportive, not just these last few months, but for the last 6 years.
The love of my beautiful, healthy son.
The fact that God has kept Noah right where he needs to be...
And that no matter the circumstance He has always taken care of us.
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and realize that this too shall pass...
That in fact, it's almost over and that my reward is going to be so amazingly wonderful that I won't even remember any of this...
And that in life, there is no time to waste.
I just had one of those moments as I was reading a friends blog.
She said this...
"when you think about life, and how short it is, there is no time".
No time to sit and let worry or fear or frustration to steal your joy, your happiness, your contentment...
I needed that reminder.
Lately, I've been down, worried, frustrated, even fearful.
This has been a long 9 months.
It started out with me so sick that I couldn't get out of bed.
By the time I felt well enough to get out again, the cold and rain had set in.
Then there was the bed rest.
And now the snow that never ends, that I worry will keep me from the hospital that I will soon need to get myself and precious child to.
There's not a part of my body that doesn't ache and I don't mean the usual aches and pains, I mean pain...real pain. The kind that keeps you awake, moaning all night.
I've been in labor before, and had a natural birth and when I tell you that my back hurts, I mean it hurts worse than it did in that delivery room.
I feel isolated and alone.
I miss my family and wish that I had them closer.
I feel trapped.
Like I need to escape this place...
Wishing some days I could escape my own skin.
But then, that one line speaks to me..."there is no time".
And I realize that all of those negative feelings are wasting precious time. They're robbing me of my joy...and my life.
I have so much more to be thankful for...
The love of my husband, who has been beyond supportive, not just these last few months, but for the last 6 years.
The love of my beautiful, healthy son.
The fact that God has kept Noah right where he needs to be...
And that no matter the circumstance He has always taken care of us.
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and realize that this too shall pass...
That in fact, it's almost over and that my reward is going to be so amazingly wonderful that I won't even remember any of this...
And that in life, there is no time to waste.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
2 And Type A
What can I say...
He's my child.
Over the past few weeks we've noticed behavior that probably, usually, isn't exhibited by a two year old. B has definitely shown us some Type A personality tendencies. For example:
His obsession with things that are "broken" and his intense need to "fix" them. And I use the terms loosely.
It always happens with his food. He'll eat a piece a toast, or a banana or a piece of cheese down the middle and when it breaks in half, he gets very upset and refuses to eat it until one of us fixes it. He trys for several minutes to stick the two pieces back together and when that doesn't work, he brings it to me or Buck, nearly in tears and says, "Broken, Mommy. Fix it!". Once it's taken away and just one of the two pieces brought back, he (assuming we fixed it) is happy and resumes eating. We frequently go through the same scenario with chalk and crayons. Once they're "fixed", he resumes his art project.
The other day we were cleaning out closets to make room for Noah's things. We were almost finished with the last closet. Brady enters the room and begins his inspection of our work. He's scanning the bottom of the closet, presumably scouring for something to get into, when he stops cold in his tracks. He forcefully points his chubby little finger at something and launches into a babbling tirade in which neither of us has any clue what he's talking about. After a few minutes of me shaking my head and saying, "I know, B" (my standard answer when I have no clue), he grabs my hand and pulls me over to the closet. "BROKEN! FIX IT!". I still have no clue. "Nothing's broken, B. It's fine.". "BROKEN! FIX IT!". After repeating several times, he goes to the shoe rack and grabs Buck's boots, which are sitting in front of the shoe rack. "FIX IT!!", he shouts, this time with desperation in his little voice. I still don't get it. The boots are brand new...they're not broken. Finally, he picks one up and starts trying to shove it onto the shoe rack. Now I get it! He was upset because the boots were in front of the shoe rack and not on the rack like the other shoes. I help him sit the boots on top of the rack. He looks up at me with smiling blue eyes and says, "Thank you, Mommy" and walks away.
They don't use rods to hang drapes and curtains here in Germany. Instead you hang them using little clips suspended from a track. Often the fabric will slip loose from one of the clips.
We were playing in our bed a few days ago when suddenly Brady again forcefully points his finger toward the ceiling and shouts...you guessed it..."Broken!" Buck replies, "Nope the ceiling isn't broken. It's fine." Again, "Broken!" This time, I knew exactly what B was talking about. It had been driving me nuts for days, but I can't reach the track at the top of 11 foot ceilings, in order to fix it. One of the clips in the middle of the curtain had come loose. "You've got to kidding me.", Buck says as he looks at me in disbelief. "Try it.", I say. He gets up, puts the clip back on the curtain..."Thank you, Daddy!", says the smiling boy.
And finally, he organizes and groups things according to type.
We were putting something together (I can't remember what it was) that required the tool box. B loves tools, particularly screw drivers. (And why wouldn't he love tools...they fix things!) He took all of the screw drivers out of the box and after about 30 minutes of taking them over to the radiator, sticking them in top, pulling them out and laying them on the floor, we noticed something. He was lining them up according to handle type! All of the grey and yellow ones together, the red and black in their own group and the various handled ones individually in a neat little row.
It's almost scary.
I'll admit that I have OCD tendencies and that I'm totally Type A. Okay, maybe even A+ as Buck says, but I don't think I was that way at 2. I think mine started in elementary school. I can remember in first grade crying and asking my teacher to let me stay in at recess to re-do work that I had "messed-up". It wasn't good enough if I had one color mark outside the lines, if I had too many eraser marks...I'm still that way. I can't leave something alone until it's perfect. Even if that means having to do it 101 times. I hate clutter and things that don't have a place. I organize my "junk" drawers, my closet by color and type, and even my dishwasher. I clean the house and two days later feel that it's so dirty I can't breathe in here. I struggle with keeping the bookshelves perfectly in line and the toys that are stuck in a corner in the living room. (I really can't wait to move to get that play room!) I'm getting better about that, but some days, I just can't take it! I hate group projects or having to depend on someone to do something that my name is attached to. I can't delegate responsibility. I'm overly critical...especially of myself. It's a bit of a sickness really.
I hope for B's sake, that it's just a phase and he outgrows it. But, he's probably not going to. I think he's probably just genetically hard wired that way. I got it from my mom, who got it from her father. My sister is the same way.
As his mom, I will have to find ways to re-assure him that he doesn't have to be perfect...that I don't expect him to be perfect...just to be his best. I don't want his childhood to be stressful, just fun. I want him to enjoy making messes and not want to clean them up. I want him to think outside the box, to color outside the lines. I'm just not sure how to make him do it. After all, they learn from what you do, not what you say, and I don't know to change who God created me to be. I don't know how to relax and let the mess sit there.
And, after writing and reading this post, I realize that I have A LOT of work to do to get myself to that point. But, for the sanity of my children, I'm willing to put in the time.
(And if I've mispelled a bunch, and I'm sure I have, forgive me...my spell checker won't work! And in the spirit of not being so much of a perfectionist, I won't go back and re-read this at least 10 times to make sure it's perfect.)
He's my child.
Over the past few weeks we've noticed behavior that probably, usually, isn't exhibited by a two year old. B has definitely shown us some Type A personality tendencies. For example:
His obsession with things that are "broken" and his intense need to "fix" them. And I use the terms loosely.
It always happens with his food. He'll eat a piece a toast, or a banana or a piece of cheese down the middle and when it breaks in half, he gets very upset and refuses to eat it until one of us fixes it. He trys for several minutes to stick the two pieces back together and when that doesn't work, he brings it to me or Buck, nearly in tears and says, "Broken, Mommy. Fix it!". Once it's taken away and just one of the two pieces brought back, he (assuming we fixed it) is happy and resumes eating. We frequently go through the same scenario with chalk and crayons. Once they're "fixed", he resumes his art project.
The other day we were cleaning out closets to make room for Noah's things. We were almost finished with the last closet. Brady enters the room and begins his inspection of our work. He's scanning the bottom of the closet, presumably scouring for something to get into, when he stops cold in his tracks. He forcefully points his chubby little finger at something and launches into a babbling tirade in which neither of us has any clue what he's talking about. After a few minutes of me shaking my head and saying, "I know, B" (my standard answer when I have no clue), he grabs my hand and pulls me over to the closet. "BROKEN! FIX IT!". I still have no clue. "Nothing's broken, B. It's fine.". "BROKEN! FIX IT!". After repeating several times, he goes to the shoe rack and grabs Buck's boots, which are sitting in front of the shoe rack. "FIX IT!!", he shouts, this time with desperation in his little voice. I still don't get it. The boots are brand new...they're not broken. Finally, he picks one up and starts trying to shove it onto the shoe rack. Now I get it! He was upset because the boots were in front of the shoe rack and not on the rack like the other shoes. I help him sit the boots on top of the rack. He looks up at me with smiling blue eyes and says, "Thank you, Mommy" and walks away.
They don't use rods to hang drapes and curtains here in Germany. Instead you hang them using little clips suspended from a track. Often the fabric will slip loose from one of the clips.
We were playing in our bed a few days ago when suddenly Brady again forcefully points his finger toward the ceiling and shouts...you guessed it..."Broken!" Buck replies, "Nope the ceiling isn't broken. It's fine." Again, "Broken!" This time, I knew exactly what B was talking about. It had been driving me nuts for days, but I can't reach the track at the top of 11 foot ceilings, in order to fix it. One of the clips in the middle of the curtain had come loose. "You've got to kidding me.", Buck says as he looks at me in disbelief. "Try it.", I say. He gets up, puts the clip back on the curtain..."Thank you, Daddy!", says the smiling boy.
And finally, he organizes and groups things according to type.
We were putting something together (I can't remember what it was) that required the tool box. B loves tools, particularly screw drivers. (And why wouldn't he love tools...they fix things!) He took all of the screw drivers out of the box and after about 30 minutes of taking them over to the radiator, sticking them in top, pulling them out and laying them on the floor, we noticed something. He was lining them up according to handle type! All of the grey and yellow ones together, the red and black in their own group and the various handled ones individually in a neat little row.
It's almost scary.
I'll admit that I have OCD tendencies and that I'm totally Type A. Okay, maybe even A+ as Buck says, but I don't think I was that way at 2. I think mine started in elementary school. I can remember in first grade crying and asking my teacher to let me stay in at recess to re-do work that I had "messed-up". It wasn't good enough if I had one color mark outside the lines, if I had too many eraser marks...I'm still that way. I can't leave something alone until it's perfect. Even if that means having to do it 101 times. I hate clutter and things that don't have a place. I organize my "junk" drawers, my closet by color and type, and even my dishwasher. I clean the house and two days later feel that it's so dirty I can't breathe in here. I struggle with keeping the bookshelves perfectly in line and the toys that are stuck in a corner in the living room. (I really can't wait to move to get that play room!) I'm getting better about that, but some days, I just can't take it! I hate group projects or having to depend on someone to do something that my name is attached to. I can't delegate responsibility. I'm overly critical...especially of myself. It's a bit of a sickness really.
I hope for B's sake, that it's just a phase and he outgrows it. But, he's probably not going to. I think he's probably just genetically hard wired that way. I got it from my mom, who got it from her father. My sister is the same way.
As his mom, I will have to find ways to re-assure him that he doesn't have to be perfect...that I don't expect him to be perfect...just to be his best. I don't want his childhood to be stressful, just fun. I want him to enjoy making messes and not want to clean them up. I want him to think outside the box, to color outside the lines. I'm just not sure how to make him do it. After all, they learn from what you do, not what you say, and I don't know to change who God created me to be. I don't know how to relax and let the mess sit there.
And, after writing and reading this post, I realize that I have A LOT of work to do to get myself to that point. But, for the sanity of my children, I'm willing to put in the time.
(And if I've mispelled a bunch, and I'm sure I have, forgive me...my spell checker won't work! And in the spirit of not being so much of a perfectionist, I won't go back and re-read this at least 10 times to make sure it's perfect.)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Cuckoo For Cocoa Puffs
Like I've said before, Buck's been doing the grocery shopping lately, hence the sugary, chocolate cereal.
Yesterday, Brady was pilfering through the pantry and came across these. He brought the box back into the living room, sat down on the couch and dug right in.
He was so happy with himself that I just couldn't bear to rip the box away, so I let him have a few moments of chocolate bliss with his Cocoa Puffs.
Every kid deserves a little chocolatey sugar every now and then, right?
Yesterday, Brady was pilfering through the pantry and came across these. He brought the box back into the living room, sat down on the couch and dug right in.
He was so happy with himself that I just couldn't bear to rip the box away, so I let him have a few moments of chocolate bliss with his Cocoa Puffs.
Every kid deserves a little chocolatey sugar every now and then, right?
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
36 Weeks
I know I should take a picture for this post (it could be the last one of the kind :)), but I haven't been presentable in weeks! And, Monday, I was all gussied up for my appointment, but totally forgot about a picture.
Anyway, here's the latest...
Bed Rest: No more!! Monday at my appointment I got the green light to do whatever I wanted! I came home and started cleaning. The nesting instinct had kicked into overdrive! I swept, vacuumed, and steam cleaned the floors! I will say that as hard as it was some days to just sit there, I'm so thankful that I followed the doctor's orders. I know now that Noah will be strong and healthy when he makes his grand entrance and that I did all I could to give him the best possible start in life.
Aches and pains: Where don't I hurt? They never end! The muscle spasms in my back and stomach make sleep pretty much impossible these days. However, as miserable as it is, I'd rather be the one suffering than to have Noah have come earlier and seen him have to suffer.
Sleep: lessness. Sweet sleep eludes me. I can't for the life of me understand why a woman in her very last weeks of pregnancy, has to be so miserable that she can't sleep. Doesn't God know that I have mere days left to sleep? I should be getting the best rest of my life right now!
Labor Signs: I'm still having daily periods of very regular, very frequent contractions. They do seem to be getting stronger, but nothing to send me running back to labor and delivery. At my appointment I had dilated a bit (from 1 to almost 3), so they are making some progress.
Mental State: Dilapidated! Half the time I can't remember why I walked into a room or what I have begun to write on my grocery list! And poor Buck...many of our recent conversations went something like this...Buck: "Belle, I'm going to get dressed, put Brady down for his nap, grab the laundry on my way out, and then head to the commissary." Me: "Okay Husband. But, why don't you get dressed before you put B down to save time?" Buck: "That's what I just said." What is it about pregnancy hormones that totally screw with your brain?! Other days, I feel like I might totally lose my mind. The weather has been HORRIBLE this winter and I have a serious case of cabin fever that at times feels like it borders on seasonal depression. The other day the sun came out for a few hours and I seriously considered lying naked on the sidewalk to absorb maximum rays. However, I didn't think my neighbors would appreciate that, and that they might call the Coast Guard to return the beached whale to the water, so instead I found a little spot on the couch where the sun came through the windows and sunned myself, much like a cat.
Attitude: One of gratitude and appreciation. I am so thankful that God has answered our many prayers and held little Noah off for the last 3 1/2 weeks. I am grateful for a little boy who is patient and loving and seemed to understand that Mommy had to take care of herself and the baby. I know it had to be hard for him, but he never let on. Every day, he was full of life and energy and laughter, which is probably the only thing that kept me laughing. And finally, I'm thankful beyond words for a husband who picked up ALL of the slack and never once complained! I know he was stressed and overworked every night when he came home. I wouldn't have blamed him if he complained every night. He'd just taken on a new responsibility with a new command. He'd come home, start dinner, play with B, get him ready for bed, put him down, clean the kitchen and pick up all of the toys. On the weekends, he'd have to do all of that plus the grocery shopping, and cleaning, and laundry! I'm so blessed to have a husband who was happy to do it all!
Now, I'm just trying to relax and enjoy the little time we have left before making some big adjustments. We can't wait to see Noah's little face and kiss his sweet cheeks! That day will come sooner that later!
Anyway, here's the latest...
Bed Rest: No more!! Monday at my appointment I got the green light to do whatever I wanted! I came home and started cleaning. The nesting instinct had kicked into overdrive! I swept, vacuumed, and steam cleaned the floors! I will say that as hard as it was some days to just sit there, I'm so thankful that I followed the doctor's orders. I know now that Noah will be strong and healthy when he makes his grand entrance and that I did all I could to give him the best possible start in life.
Aches and pains: Where don't I hurt? They never end! The muscle spasms in my back and stomach make sleep pretty much impossible these days. However, as miserable as it is, I'd rather be the one suffering than to have Noah have come earlier and seen him have to suffer.
Sleep: lessness. Sweet sleep eludes me. I can't for the life of me understand why a woman in her very last weeks of pregnancy, has to be so miserable that she can't sleep. Doesn't God know that I have mere days left to sleep? I should be getting the best rest of my life right now!
Labor Signs: I'm still having daily periods of very regular, very frequent contractions. They do seem to be getting stronger, but nothing to send me running back to labor and delivery. At my appointment I had dilated a bit (from 1 to almost 3), so they are making some progress.
Mental State: Dilapidated! Half the time I can't remember why I walked into a room or what I have begun to write on my grocery list! And poor Buck...many of our recent conversations went something like this...Buck: "Belle, I'm going to get dressed, put Brady down for his nap, grab the laundry on my way out, and then head to the commissary." Me: "Okay Husband. But, why don't you get dressed before you put B down to save time?" Buck: "That's what I just said." What is it about pregnancy hormones that totally screw with your brain?! Other days, I feel like I might totally lose my mind. The weather has been HORRIBLE this winter and I have a serious case of cabin fever that at times feels like it borders on seasonal depression. The other day the sun came out for a few hours and I seriously considered lying naked on the sidewalk to absorb maximum rays. However, I didn't think my neighbors would appreciate that, and that they might call the Coast Guard to return the beached whale to the water, so instead I found a little spot on the couch where the sun came through the windows and sunned myself, much like a cat.
Attitude: One of gratitude and appreciation. I am so thankful that God has answered our many prayers and held little Noah off for the last 3 1/2 weeks. I am grateful for a little boy who is patient and loving and seemed to understand that Mommy had to take care of herself and the baby. I know it had to be hard for him, but he never let on. Every day, he was full of life and energy and laughter, which is probably the only thing that kept me laughing. And finally, I'm thankful beyond words for a husband who picked up ALL of the slack and never once complained! I know he was stressed and overworked every night when he came home. I wouldn't have blamed him if he complained every night. He'd just taken on a new responsibility with a new command. He'd come home, start dinner, play with B, get him ready for bed, put him down, clean the kitchen and pick up all of the toys. On the weekends, he'd have to do all of that plus the grocery shopping, and cleaning, and laundry! I'm so blessed to have a husband who was happy to do it all!
Now, I'm just trying to relax and enjoy the little time we have left before making some big adjustments. We can't wait to see Noah's little face and kiss his sweet cheeks! That day will come sooner that later!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
For Your WHO DAT Super Bowl Party
I've just been beside myself lately!
I've been a Saints fan from day one. I got it honest...my Dad's dad (Paw) was a die hard fan! You know...the kind that is moody for days if they lost on Sunday, but whistling all week if they won! This moment is one that I've waited a LONG time for!
And I feel a little left out...
Like I can't be there to celebrate and share in the excitement...
I'm sure that being on the opposite side of the Atlantic has something to do with it!
If ever I were to fire up our big screen, host a Super Bowl party, dress the whole family in Saints jerseys and paint those little black game stripes under my eyes, this would be the time! And I can't!
I know, you're thinking, "Why can't you have a party?". "It's not like it's against German law, is it?". No, it's not. It's just that I'm pregnant...very pregnant. And after much thought, debate and grief, I've decided it's best if I don't. It would be really awkward and a bit rude to rush our guests out because my water broke and I had to get to a hospital...fast! And besides, I'm not sure I have the energy to get every thing together for a big bash.
But, I know some of you are bound to be planning parties, so I can live vicariously through you.
I found this great, easy and fun recipe over at Picky Palate and thought it would be perfect for the Super Bowl party I won't be having...but you might! It's easy and would make cleaning up after 20 people super easy! If you decide to try it out let me know how it went. And pass along some of your victory party pics! It'll make me feel more connected!
For me there's always next year, right? WHO DAT!!
I've been a Saints fan from day one. I got it honest...my Dad's dad (Paw) was a die hard fan! You know...the kind that is moody for days if they lost on Sunday, but whistling all week if they won! This moment is one that I've waited a LONG time for!
And I feel a little left out...
Like I can't be there to celebrate and share in the excitement...
I'm sure that being on the opposite side of the Atlantic has something to do with it!
If ever I were to fire up our big screen, host a Super Bowl party, dress the whole family in Saints jerseys and paint those little black game stripes under my eyes, this would be the time! And I can't!
I know, you're thinking, "Why can't you have a party?". "It's not like it's against German law, is it?". No, it's not. It's just that I'm pregnant...very pregnant. And after much thought, debate and grief, I've decided it's best if I don't. It would be really awkward and a bit rude to rush our guests out because my water broke and I had to get to a hospital...fast! And besides, I'm not sure I have the energy to get every thing together for a big bash.
But, I know some of you are bound to be planning parties, so I can live vicariously through you.
I found this great, easy and fun recipe over at Picky Palate and thought it would be perfect for the Super Bowl party I won't be having...but you might! It's easy and would make cleaning up after 20 people super easy! If you decide to try it out let me know how it went. And pass along some of your victory party pics! It'll make me feel more connected!
For me there's always next year, right? WHO DAT!!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Snow Baby
How is it that a sweet little boy playing in the cold, cold snow can melt my heart?
The fact that I'm his mama may have something to do with it, but these pictures are precious, if I may say so.
The snow finally stopped long enough for Buck to take Brady outside for about an hour Saturday afternoon! They had the best time making giant snow balls, swinging, tromping through thigh-high snow and eating icicles, or as B called them screwdrivers. haha Don't ask...that's his new thing.
I sent my camera out with Buck and told him to take a few shots. He came back with over 80 images for me to sort through! I picked out my favorites to edit and share with you.
Hope they make you smile and feel all warm and fuzzy too!
In the first picture he's just mad because he fell down and got stuck!
The fact that I'm his mama may have something to do with it, but these pictures are precious, if I may say so.
The snow finally stopped long enough for Buck to take Brady outside for about an hour Saturday afternoon! They had the best time making giant snow balls, swinging, tromping through thigh-high snow and eating icicles, or as B called them screwdrivers. haha Don't ask...that's his new thing.
I sent my camera out with Buck and told him to take a few shots. He came back with over 80 images for me to sort through! I picked out my favorites to edit and share with you.
Hope they make you smile and feel all warm and fuzzy too!
In the first picture he's just mad because he fell down and got stuck!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
