Recent days

My CPR course last weekend was nothing short of information overload, but I loved it.  I gotta admit, though, that I got a little too emotional when I saw the video demonstration of the choking baby... and the one of the suffocating baby... my goodness.  Talk about embarrassing.  :)

I scored 98% on my exam, but *everyone* in the class got the same question wrong - even the instructor admitted it was a poorly worded question and that the answer we'd all put would indeed also be correct.

I was exhausted by the end of the weekend.  I'd done more chest compressions than I can even bear to guesstimate, and I learned how to bandage and sling all kinds of injuries.  Really, really neat information.  While I pray I can retain it all, I also pray fervently that I will never have to use my newfound knowledge.

It was my birthday last Sunday.  So, after I got home from my course, we ordered in Chinese food.  Graeme had made a birthday cake, so we put a few candles on it and we let Meaghan try to blow them out.  So stinkin' cute.

It was the most low-key birthday ever, but I was OK with that.  I think Graeme and I may have watched a part of a movie that night, but I was so exhausted that we didn't finish it.  I can't even remember what the movie was, but I remember that it was good.  How pathetic am I?

My kidlets are sick again.  Started out with Dustin a week or so again...no, wait.  I think it started with Meaghan, followed closely by Dustin.  Dustin is also somewhat asthmatic, but when he gets a cold that goes into his chest, he becomes a croupy frantic mess in the middle of the night.  Not helpful with the asthma.  I spent about 1 1/2 hours up with him in the night one night.  I love snuggling my "babies", even in the night, as I know that my time for snuggling them may not last forever.  I tried sleeping upright on the sofa with Dustin, to relieve his airway a bit, but between him being too wired from his rescue inhaler meds (increased heart rate) and me not having much room on the sofa, we kind of kept giggling and then gave up on that process.   He still has a wet cough and sniffles, but is not acute like he was a couple of days ago.

(Dustin, playing a game on my phone, in one of his favorite "I wanna be alone spots" - in an overturned laundry basket in the middle of the floor!)

Meaghan had basically *almost* gotten over her cold - not a major one, but enough to wake her in the night a few times over the previous nights.  Then, she spent a day or two with just a touch of a runny nose, and then yesterday she started worsening again... the wet cough returned suddenly.... and then after her nap today, she woke up completely on fire.  Poor hunny.  I was out tonight for a couple of hours at a church function, and when I got home, she woke up and started mewling pathetically; she is dressed in nothing more than light "summer" jammies (shorts & t-shirt with froggies on them; belonged to the boys), and she was not under her blanket at all, but she was so fevered that even her little naked toes were hot.  Poor hunny.  I spent a good while enjoying a snuggle with her also.  (Meaghan seems to have this repeated pattern... sick, mostly healthy, then succumbs again, worse than the first time... usually requiring her to be on antibiotics, which often do their job within the first 36 hours... we shall see if she needs to be on something again or not... I hope not!)

Last night Joshua also decided to get sick - well, he didn't *decide*, but you know how it goes.  He was fussing at suppertime about a sore throat.  Graeme's parents were watching the kids for a couple of hours at our house, and teased Joshua about having "supper disease", as Joshua often seems to try and manipulate his way out of eating his dinner (but still getting dessert) whenever Gramma & Grampa are in charge.  At any rate, about an hour after I got home, it became abundantly clear to me that Joshua was definitely *not* faking anything; came down with a fast and high fever, chills, etc...

Yes - at just over 6 1/2 years old, he is reading Hardy Boys books, cover to cover... if Joshua goes missing, we will always find him with a big old chapter book in his hands... though this picture was taken several days ago,  this is also how he spent much of his day today.

Graeme was sick last weekend - started on my birthday, and he's still not really over it yet.

"I am the only one who has escaped...."

For now.  Maybe God will be merciful and prevent me from getting this messy illness... I tell you, the amount of direct-to-my-face coughing that Meaghan has launched ought to be enough to send me to quarantine.  I *am* thankful that I've been kept from this.  I am leading worship tomorrow, and as long as I make it through that, I'll be happy...

'Cept tomorrow (Sunday) is also our 12th anniversary, and we have reservations at a sorta-fancy restaurant... but if the kids are sick there's no way we're going to ask someone to look after them like that.  Or if I'm sick, there's no way I'm going to spend money on restaurant food that I won't even be able to taste.

God knows.

In all of this, He sees, and He knows.  Somehow, He has given me a greater degree of patience in this past year for my sickies.  He has been merciful to grant me health while I tend my little flock.  And if I do get sick afterwards, my littles have been gracious and understanding and mostly compliant.  I am blessed.

Hide & Seek!

Meaghan is the most fun EVER to play hide & seek with.

She counts, "one, tooo, feeee, foh, feeee, foh, feeee, foh, COME!"  Then she calls my name, I say "pssst", she finds me, we giggle and I tickle her.

So I tell her, "It's Mommy's turn to count!"

"OKAY!" she yells excitedly.  I cover my eyes and count to ten, then say the standard, "Ready or not, here I come!"

"OKAY!" she yells again, and comes tearing out of her hiding spot, laughing hysterically, and runs straight into my arms.  I pick her up, swing her around, tickle her, and set her down.

"Again?  Hide?" she asks hopefully.

Yes, Meaghan, I will play hide & seek with you.  Any time.  And you can run happily into my arms... any time.  You are such a treasure!

Another midwife appointment

I am pleased to announce that...

We are NOT having a puppy!!  Meaghan has now declared, upon hearing the heartbeat once again, that there is indeed a real BABY in Mommy's tummy!  As soon as I sat up, she laid herself on the sofa and demanded that I palpate for her baby, too.  What a girl!!

I pulled Joshua from school - picked him up right before lunch hour, and had him back around 1 p.m. - he hardly missed anything.  I had his teacher's full approval.  On our way back to school, I asked him if he enjoyed coming and if he's like to come again.  He seemed fairly disconnected for most of the appointment, but declared in the van that it was "really cool" to hear the heartbeat and watch the midwife take my blood pressure and feel the position of the baby.  He does want to come again.

Dustin was a bit of a handful.

I think next time, I want to go alone.  It might be more relaxing that way.  I'll take Joshua with me another time.

My midwife is also expecting another baby - due about 7 weeks after me!  She has added a new midwife to her practice as well, so there will be no shortage of hands when I go into labour.

Anyway - yeah.  No puppy.  Just a sweet little squirmy baby.

Dragging

I feel like all I've been doing is dragging myself around these last 3 or 4 days.

I have a weekly to-do list - tasks organized by day of the week - and it's been working fairly well in regards to helping me keep on top of housework, etc.  I usually average 80%, maybe more, which still isn't perfect, but it's better than it was.  And this way I know what's ahead of me and what's behind me... and that if I miss it, there's always next week (unless it comes down to hauling dirty undies out of the laundry to wear... that's where I draw the line).

Anyway - this week?  10%.  Maybe.  If I'm *really* lucky.

I have been just wrung out.  Somewhat physically...but seems like moreso mentally.  True, I've been fighting a throat infection for a while, but have felt relatively fine otherwise, physically.  Maybe it's taking more out of me than I've given it credit for.

It doesn't help that I have to be out for 2 hours tonight for a project night for one of the kids, nor that I'm going to be away all weekend long this weekend and *know* it will be exhausting, so I'll be starting off next week at a deficit, too.

I'm overwhelmed.

I don't mean to complain - I've much to be thankful for.  Baby is very active, and I have another midwife appointment tomorrow.  I had a visit with an 89-year old woman of God yesterday.  My boys can fold their own laundry and unload the dishwasher.  We have wonderful friends.  I have a roast in the crock pot, with bbq sauce, that I plan on shredding and putting in sandwiches tonight.  Life *is* good, but even more than that, God is good.

But, would you pray for me?  Pray against the suffocation that seems to have no real basis?  I stand back and look at my life, and life is good.  But I feel oppressed right now, and it literally takes my breath away at times.  Thanks, sisters...

It's time

I have never taken a proper first aid course.

Before Joshua was born, I took a 2-hour infant CPR and rescue breathing course... that's it.

But with the likes of Dustin and Meaghan (oh, that girl is going to be too much like me!), and a new baby coming, I really, really need to have some tricks up my sleeve for dealing with the eventualities and antics of my two middles.

Because those two are trouble.  Cute, but my goodness... trouble.  I love it.

So, happy birthday to me, I get to spend my entire birthday weekend - 9 hours on Saturday and 9 hours on Sunday later this month - at a Standard First Aid course including all kinds of CPR and AED training, as well as - hurrah! - an assorted buffet of first aid tactics for dealing with what will likely eventually come...  not wishing anything on myself or my children by any stretch, but I do need to be better prepared than I currently am.

The only other time this is offered on a weekend is in April, 2-3 weeks before my due date.  Not too interested in that.  And there's no way I could get childcare for two days in the middle of the week for the other options.  So, like I said, happy birthday to me... I'm going to be wiped out!

But at least I'll be smarter.

I am a teetotaler, too

I had no idea what a teetotaler was, until the other day.

Admittedly, I've been in a blogging slump, bigtime.  Call it trying to rearrange my life, reorganize and make things more efficient on a day to day basis before this baby makes his/her arrival... call it dealing with relationship fallouts... call it wrestling with other issues.  Call it whatever you want... but blogging has not been coming easy.  I have an abundance of unposted drafts waiting to be edited and dumped into the blogosphere, but there they still wait.

However, when Paige posted this the other day, it struck a chord with me.  A very, very big chord.  And it was the fuel I needed to write a *real* post again.  It's not nearly as eloquent or to the point as Paige's is... maybe a little rougher.

I, too, am a teetotaler.  I didn't think there were many of us out there.

I could easily echo much of what she's written.  My stance is *not* one of me being holier-than-thou.  I have many, many friends - both Christian and non-Christian - who enjoy a glass of wine or other beverage, and I am not accustomed to tearing them down or spending less time with them because they *do* drink once in a while.  I never want to come across as thinking I am better than them because they drink and I don't.  Truthfully, I likely have other vices that could be pointed at and looked down upon as unworthy or inferior.  But that's not what my friendships are about.  I still love even those friends who do drink occasionally.

Probably my absolute biggest reason for not ever touching the stuff is this:  I grew up in an alcoholic home.  My dad was a drunk, my mom drank (though not to nearly the same degree as my dad).  My dad would easily drink 20 out of 24 beers in a flat in a single night.  Then he'd pile a 26 oz bottle of whiskey on top of that.  Every single night.  I remember getting hauled across the house by my earlobe because I didn't get my dad a beer fast enough one night.  I have always, always hated alcohol.  My mom and I saved receipts for 6 months from all the booze he bought - $9000 in that six month period.  This was before it got *really* bad.

No wonder I had to wear the same hole-ridden jeans to school for a week straight.  I can't imagine what an extra $18,000 per year might have done for our otherwise poverty-stricken family.

Alcoholism can run in families.  Seeing what it did to my dad was enough for me.  I never *ever* want to put myself in a position of compromise, opening my mind and body to the addicting effects of alcohol.  It turned my dad into an abusive, controlling, and manipulative man.  He was never a "happy drunk".  As a daughter of a drunk, and with the possible inherited tendencies towards addiction to alcohol, I don't want to even give it a chance.

I do have other reasons, too, for not ever wanting to drink, though that is the biggest one.

While I was ridiculed in high school for never having imbibed, I've never really felt the pressure.  I have, however, had days where I've said to Graeme, "Hmm, if I was a drinking woman, I'd reach for something right now..." or, "I can see why people drink to numb the chaos or dull the pain..."  But I have never actually been tempted to give in.  I'd rather press into more productive pursuits.

Yes, Jesus changed water into wine.  That's a tough one for me to reconcile.  Because of this, I won't ever be able to say to someone, "Drinking is a sin," or anything to that effect.  Giving oneself to drunkenness is, though, is another matter... but didn't He make that choicest wine at the end of the wedding feast, when everyone was already inebriated?

I personally feel that I have enough trouble controlling my emotions sometimes; why would I add something to the mix where I would be even less inhibited?  Why would I put myself in a position of compromise?

Now, this I say carefully - I do have a problem with those who call themselves Christians but then turn around and conform to the pattern of the world by proclaiming how much they're looking forward to going to the pub with their friends... or how much they will *need* that glass (or bottle!) of wine at the end of the day to unwind... how can we set ourselves apart from the world if we're not willing to exercise a little discretion when it comes to addictive substances?  (This is merely the God-following side of the argument...)

This much can be said:  alcohol is not the only potential problem... food, cigarettes, exercise, even hobbies! - can become such an addiction that it numbs us to the needs around us.  God knows that I need as much balance in my life as I wrestle with how to make everything that He wants me to do and learn, fit properly together.

(And no, I don't smoke either!  Ha ha!)