Sunday was normal.
Monday was quiet.
Tuesday, Nico set off the fire alarm at Sam's Club.
Wednesday, Early Afternoon: A friend came over for a play date and the children played in the pool all afternoon while the baby slept and we worked. And drank homemade iced mocha. Yummy!
Wednesday Evening: Nico went with Daddy to Blockbuster and the take-out Chinese place to grab fried cheese won tons (my favorite!) to go with dinner. Unfortunately, Nico decided to leave his lunch there, all over the floor. Daddy had never seen projectile vomiting.
Thursday morning, long before the sun ever rose: Nico was sitting on our bed, bowel in lap, vomiting.
Thursday, 3am: Daddy gave up on sleep and decided to get ready for work.
Thursday 6am: Daddy returned from an early morning trip to Wal-Greens for pedialyte to find a certain little boy sound asleep. Yeah! Except Daddy had to go to work.
Thursday, 7:40am: That certain little boy decided that he was "all better" and wanted to play. With someone. That someone turned out to be the sleeping baby.
Thursday 2pm: Just put everyone down for a nap when Daddy rang the doorbell. He was so sick he couldn't even open the door.
Friday morning: Friend from play date earlier this week calls to say that I must really hate her. Her son is now vomiting. Wants to know if it's swine flu. Probably, I tell her.
Later on, Friday morning: Nico had a melt down. I wouldn't let him go to co-op, but Mari got to go. Daddy called to remind me that tonight the guys are going to play pool, which reminded me that the girls are having a Pampered Chef party tonight. I called our favorite babysitter, but everyone is busy. Explains why some of the guys aren't going to play pool. They're watching their children because their wives are going to the party. Perhaps, the guys could reschedule for tomorrow night?
Friday, September 4, 2009
The Final Frontier:
Ok. So let's try this bloggy thing one last time. My life is just too interesting and funny not to share. And preserve for my children. Especially when they call at 2 am because they've just realized that the baby has thrown three of big brother's matchbox cars into the toilet. But not before flushing said toilet.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Our smallest, biggest blessing.
In July 2007, we find out we were expecting baby #3. We were very excited and also a little concerned. Pregnancies are very hard on my body. I have been on bed rest for all of my pregnancies. This last one was no different, except I was on bed rest for all but 4 weeks. At twenty weeks I was 80% effaced. Our midwives and doctors begin preparing us for the reality that our child would not survive if she were born so early. I was put on complete bed rest, with two small children. My husband had just been hired with a new company (an answer to one of our prayers) that required full time travel for the first 18 to 24 months, meaning he was gone usually from Sunday afternoon until late Friday night. And you know what? God sustained us. Every other week, I was in the hospital for an ultrasound and there was always someone available to watch the children. When I would have to go to the hospital in the middle of the night with contractions, my husband's family was always there to watch the children. Friends stopped by several times a week to bring food, clean house and take my children to the park. Week by week went by, and God sustained us and protected us.
When I hit 36 weeks, I was finally allowed off bed rest. And still no baby. Thirty seven weeks, we stripped my membranes THREE times, and still no baby. Thirty eight weeks found me walking around the mall for hours on end, trying to get the show on the road. And still no baby. Saturday, March 22 found me at a friend's house for a picnic and bible study. Shortly before we started the bible study, I came out of the bathroom and told my husband and friends that my water had broken. Nothing else though, no contractions. Later that evening we called our midwives and they immediately came over (I have a history of very, very short labors). My water was indeed broken, but no contractions. We walked up and down our darkened road for hours. My neighbor stepped outside to see what was causing her dogs to bark, and still no baby. At four 0'clock in the morning we decided to take a nap. When I woke up a few hours later, still no contractions. Our midwife called the doctor to update him on my progress and to get medical permission to keep me at home. (We had been planning a homebirth and our state law requires that a doctor be consulted when your membranes have been ruptured for X amount of hours with no progress.) The doctor said okay, to start antibiotics at 1:30pm and bring me in then if I hadn't had the baby. So it kept going. We tried everything to get labor going and nothing worked. Finally, we decided to pray. Why we didn't do that first, I don't know. It always seems that instead of running to God first, we always try to take care of things ourselves. And it never works. Within 10 minutes of taking it to God in prayer I was in transition. 8cm dialated. Within 20 minutes the midwife was shouting for my husband to come or he was going to miss the birth. At 1:32pm, two minutes past the doctor's deadline, our daughter was born at home, at 39 weeks gestation. It was Easter Sunday.
What a beautiful picture of God in his sovereignty. Over two thousand years before, His Son had risen from the grave, a Savior for all mankind, promised since the beginning, and here my husband and I were holding our new daughter, whose days God had already ordained.
Today is that sweet little baby's first birthday. The very one who doctors said would never make it to term, and would in all probability die as a result of a premature birth. Soon after her birth, a very close friend gave me a scripture that the Lord had led her to:
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
When I hit 36 weeks, I was finally allowed off bed rest. And still no baby. Thirty seven weeks, we stripped my membranes THREE times, and still no baby. Thirty eight weeks found me walking around the mall for hours on end, trying to get the show on the road. And still no baby. Saturday, March 22 found me at a friend's house for a picnic and bible study. Shortly before we started the bible study, I came out of the bathroom and told my husband and friends that my water had broken. Nothing else though, no contractions. Later that evening we called our midwives and they immediately came over (I have a history of very, very short labors). My water was indeed broken, but no contractions. We walked up and down our darkened road for hours. My neighbor stepped outside to see what was causing her dogs to bark, and still no baby. At four 0'clock in the morning we decided to take a nap. When I woke up a few hours later, still no contractions. Our midwife called the doctor to update him on my progress and to get medical permission to keep me at home. (We had been planning a homebirth and our state law requires that a doctor be consulted when your membranes have been ruptured for X amount of hours with no progress.) The doctor said okay, to start antibiotics at 1:30pm and bring me in then if I hadn't had the baby. So it kept going. We tried everything to get labor going and nothing worked. Finally, we decided to pray. Why we didn't do that first, I don't know. It always seems that instead of running to God first, we always try to take care of things ourselves. And it never works. Within 10 minutes of taking it to God in prayer I was in transition. 8cm dialated. Within 20 minutes the midwife was shouting for my husband to come or he was going to miss the birth. At 1:32pm, two minutes past the doctor's deadline, our daughter was born at home, at 39 weeks gestation. It was Easter Sunday.
What a beautiful picture of God in his sovereignty. Over two thousand years before, His Son had risen from the grave, a Savior for all mankind, promised since the beginning, and here my husband and I were holding our new daughter, whose days God had already ordained.
Today is that sweet little baby's first birthday. The very one who doctors said would never make it to term, and would in all probability die as a result of a premature birth. Soon after her birth, a very close friend gave me a scripture that the Lord had led her to:
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
When it rains, it pours...
You know that old saying "when it rains, it pours"? Well, that is definitely true of God's blessings. After my last post, (has it really been 5 months?), the blessings just kept pouring down over our family. My hubby had a job transfer and we moved AGAIN for the second time in three months. we found a wonderful new church family and have made many wonderful friends (who also home school, yippee!).
When I look back over the past year I see God's protection and blessings almost daily in our life, from healings to answered prayers.
When I look back over the past year I see God's protection and blessings almost daily in our life, from healings to answered prayers.
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