booked

Peace has returned to our home for the most part. Little B is far more himself than he has been in a long time, and I am so glad to have him around again. There are definitely some 'moments' still, but much fewer and farther between. I breathe thanks by the moment to my Lord for this. Truly - I do not say this smart-alecky in the least. It is now a temporary, resolvable issue versus an evolvable (no, not a word, but it sounds good) issue that begins upon waking. I can breathe again.

And my iron levels were low, apparently, which no doubt added to the exhaustion I felt, the depression that rose like bile, and my general inablility to get anything done. I had run out of my preferred prenatal vitamins (from a health food store, IN A CAPSULE so I did not have to taste or smell them) and just never got back to said store to replenish (and meat has been less appetizing than usual, which no doubt contributed). When the glucose test came back normal and the hemoglobin was not, I was on the verge of a lecture from the nurse and she was making sure I had a prescription for my vitamins. I really don't get why your vitamins should come from a pharmacy when you're pregnant. Sheesh. Anyway, my wonderful husband picked some up on his way home from work the next day, and I've been a good little pregnant girl about taking them each night. You're welcome.

I still feel so content in the deep places of my heart from my wonderful trip to the beach - and now we're planning a dessert and coffee night hopefully this weekend. Much smaller scale, but how refreshing to at last have some friends who make the time for this - for all of us, not about me per se.

And, and the heels of my trip, my beach-loving husband jumped all over my idea to go as a family if we could find decent rates. So, we're booked. And not just two or even three nights, but four nights away from home for my deserving family. It's been a few years since we took a vacation and the thrill is running high for everyone. We'll be staying beach-front, so no sand in the van (which is even worse than sand in my swimsuit!). Kites, sandcastles, pool, hotel with a kitchenette, sunscreen galore. . .

For the first time, a vacation on the horizon doesn't feel threatening or stressful - because I had my vacation first. Now, I can help the family have a good time. My husband was gracious enough to actually understand that. Good man, that one. He deserves some sand time, that much I know.

the rest of the week

On Sunday evening John came to pick me up from my friend's home. He parked in the cul-de-sac, van loaded with sleeping children (Little B stayed one last night with my parents), and walked down to get me and my things. As we carried my bags and pillows back to the van a couple of minutes later, there was an incredibly foul odor that met us. We had no idea where it came from, but it appeared to blow away with the windows down for a moment. The relief was short-lived however, as it kept returning. . .

Upon arriving home, my hubby took a flashlight out and looked for dead animal remains - that kind of foul! When no evidence was found, he checked all my fluids and discovered I was out of oil. I am overdue for an oil change, but normally that should not empty it out. My poor van is burning oil, though, so that exasperated the situation. Assuming the odor was a lack of oil, he added what he had on hand (enough to bring it to minimum) and went to bed.

The next day, going to hear Bitsy's heartbeat (she has no name yet), the odor was still going strong. A stop at the mechanic made for a longer day than planned, and they were too busy to see us. One of the kind employees checked it out to make sure I was safe to drive, though. He discovered fur under the exhaust. So it WAS a dead animal! Then, they added another quart or so of oil, free of charge. (And, yes, I was thankful for the odor since that's how we discovered we were out oil.)

Monday finished up late after an allergy-safe food stop (specifically, Whole Foods for multiples of things we can't find anywhere else) and meeting my parents to pick up Little B. One car wash later and we were slightly less offended by the odor coming from my engine.

Tuesday was the big day, though. I took Little B to a new, in-between, psychiatrist. His meds have clearly needed some adjusting, but we were on a cancellation list for the doctor on our insurance plan. After consulting with our pediatrician, the new office, and current psychologist, the choice was made to try someone in the old office where his records are current (the previous doctor is no longer there). Could there be any more people involved in this? Yes, actually - I kept it simple for you here.

So, some changes have been made, a new diagnosis given, the old one thrown away, and this mommy's heart is feeling deeply hopeful that what is probably a placebo effect of knowing he's on meds to help things will transition smoothly into a better-functioning little boy. There is still a part of me that isn't totally throwing out the old diagnosis just yet. The new one makes me very sad, but at the same time it fits so well. We'll follow up next week to see how he's doing. When we see the new doctor (that has a co-pay, not full cost out of pocket), it will be interesting to see how her opinions line up with everything else we're hearing. I can tell you this: the right doctor is crucial. No matter the cost.

beach talk

I am back. And have not stopped feeling like the big pink rabbit that calls itself the Energizer Bunny yet. As soon as I got home, the van had problems (literally, on the way home, but that's for another post), doctors appointments were waiting each day and there were plenty of other things to keep me busy - and only right now have I stopped and remembered that I need to tell you of my trip...

My lovely trip started early on Friday morning - as in we loaded up all the kids to take me to my friend's home before 8am. I was jittery and excited and my wonderful husband could barely keep up with my chatter-box jibber-jabber. My oldest spent a long weekend with my parents and my younger two had some glorious Daddy Days that they are still talking about and savoring.

On the 6-ish hour drive to the ocean I talked to my two friends. But not just talked. I mean poured out my heart and soul like purging drugs from one's body. I was headachey and shaky and felt like I was detoxing from the stress of the past months. I had compassionate ears and loving hearts in these two women, both moms of boys about my son's age. And so I poured and poured and poured out. I do not know how they tolerated it. Yes, I listened as well, and it was conversational, but I did a lot LOT of talking. If they were not such precious Godly women who listened so willingly, I'd have felt bad about it. But they at least acted like they wanted to hear what I desperately needed to talk about. I assure you, there is no human counselor or psychologist or other therapist-type who could begin to meet the need they met for me. They had insights that not all peers could offer, as well.

Once we settled into the 20th floor condo overlooking the pristine ocean, I found time alone in my room to lay across my bed - thinking surely I needed a nap. But no slumber would find me. Instead my eyes slowly leaked tears as I was able find words to speak to my Heavenly Father for the first time in weeks. It was not that I'd been angry at Him, or resisting Him, or ignoring Him. Quite the contrary. I needed Him desperately and knew it. I have just not had words that I could utter. I needed the Spirit to intercede for me. My eyes would glaze over when I would open my Bible. My world was so insanely complicated I was lost. I could hear my mom pray on the phone with me and I'd weep in pain for my son's needs and a longing to help him and fix whatever was wrong, but no words could fall from my mouth.

I intended to take my Bible with me on this trip, but I forgot. And honestly, I just loved being still and knowing God in those moments, rather than trying to play catch-up on months of reading. He came to me, He met me, He had been with me all along - which I knew - but I felt His presence so closely it ached.

We ate a ritzy restaurant that first night, created to feel like a balcony setting with outdoor lights and phenomenal food. The kind of place you might see the President at (apparently, he ate there once). And then we sat up very, very late and talked girl talk and laughed ourselves silly before succumbing to the sleep that was grabbing at us.

The next morning, we took our lazy time with breakfast and coffee and getting ready for the beach. Then we sat before the vast ocean, collected shells, talked, avoided jelly-fish, and talked some more (they swam or jogged, I waded in a tiny bit, but I'm not an ocean-lover, just a feet-digging-into-sand-while-watching-the-ocean-lover). We left the chairs and umbrellas while going inside for some lunch then meandered back out when we were ready, doing more of the same. After we'd had our fill, we took our time cleaning up, chatting, and getting ready to head out for souvenirs and dinner (I absolutely had to find fun things for my kids). King Crab was the theme of the night, which had been my pick since I never get crab any more. It takes too long to finish while the kids are sitting by waiting impatiently. Another late night with silly talk and serious talk and droopy eyelids followed.

Sunday morning we slept in (mostly me), cleaned up the condo, had some Starbucks, and did the rest of the souvenir shopping before heading home. Decadent is all I can say. I succeeded in getting the requisite souvenir shirts, sharks tooth/sea shell necklaces, ball cap for the hubby, and some changes-colors-in-the-sunlight fun stuff for the kids (rings, key chains, nail polish). I even saw some amazing prices at the hotels down that same strip and we're going to check the budget to see if we can swing a few day at the beach with the kids soon.

We arrived home drowsy and content - the kids were asleep and I could barely unpack my bag. Another day would have been heavenly, but it was nice be with my husband, kiss my the faces of my sweet kids and sleep in my own bed.

I have felt hopeful this week - crazy busy and longing/looking for the right help for my son, but hopeful for the first time, not just beaten down with endlessly trying. I think we're on the road to some answers, though it will still take a bit of time to be sure it's the right road. In the meantime, I'm ready to keep trying rather than throw in the towel.

all about moi

After reading a friend's post about her in-laws taking her kids for a night, I was pondering how I could get away from MY kids overnight.  Baby J is not quite ready to be left with someone other than us, so it limits the options a lot – and means I can't have a night "alone" with my husband.  I daydreamed for a bit about going away with a friend for a night or two, but promptly dismissed such thoughts because I can't afford a hotel plus food for two or three days.

 
 

A mere few hours later, my waiting room friend and I were chatting on the phone. Her son receives physical and speech therapy several times a week among other routine things as he had a brain tumor that left him with many deficiencies. Beneath the outward disabilities, he is so smart and warm and friendly. It's hard to imagine watching your son deteriorate and then struggle to relearn the very basics in life, but that is exactly what this friend has gone through since we met.  Needless to say, there are plenty of heartaches and pity parties available, and she and I make good sounding boards for each other. On this particular day, she had called to tell me that she wanted to invite me and two other friends to her condo at the beach in Panama City for a weekend away fairly soon.  I could barely contain myself waiting for John to get home and hear his reaction…and had to force myself not to interrupt his work day with it. Once he as home and I spilled my hopefulness onto the table, he promised to find a way to work it out - that I needed to go.  How thankful I am for a husband who sees this need right now!

 
 

So, a week from tomorrow I'm headed to the beach.

Without kids.

For two nights.

With 2 or 3 nice ladies for company.

Costing me only some of my meals and pitching in for gas.

I plan to make some large batches of normaly, yummy, NOT-allergy-friendly cookies to take along and share with everyone.

And there will be plenty for me to overindulge in. Freely.

 

(And I desparately hope nothing messes this up now that I've told people about it….because, well….I WANNA GO!!)

and we're having a . . .

Yesterday marked the halfway point in my pregnancy, though we all know this baby IS showing up before the 40 week mark. So, I suppose I'm beyond the halfway point now. Which works just fine for me. Although someone did think I was 7 months along over the weekend....!

And today was that ultrasound that gives it all away: we're having another girl!

I didn't get back to tell you about the million and one things going on in our lives and the pictures I promised are not taken because a certain someone was using my desk key and locked it into the desk where the camera is. Once we get it open again, he can go ride his bike and take lots of animal pictures for me to post.

But as to why I haven't been back on here. . .where to start?
My son is not doing well. The changes, the new routines that aren't fully routine yet, the newness in general, the probability of needing meds changed...
My daughter has been having varying allergic reactions to foods and dryer sheets and mystery things about twice a week...
My mischief maker is still being mischievous...
My smallest one is slowly making it's presence known with subtle movements and large belly (one of those pics I mentioned will be a belly shot, okay?). I have to slow down because the stress around the house has me worrying about the baby....
And me, I'm just a blubber face in the midst of it all. No longer coping on any level, and now faced with tough decisions.

As in, I want to home school my kids. I find it rewarding, even on the hard days. And less stressful than worrying about my son's behavior in public school or my daughter's potential allergic reactions because of carelessness in a classroom (which is frighteningly common).

But today when I expressed the concern about the stress and the baby to Little B's psychologist, she immediately suggested putting him back in public school for at least one term while we finish getting settled. I'm not sure how I feel about it. She told me she'd bring it up to him, which is fine - when I suggested it recently (quite seriously) his eyes bulged and his nostrils flared and he was appalled, acting as though I'd suggested he be thrown in jail.

On the way home, he brought it up, saying he wanted to try. I really like the psychologist, but am not overly happy with some of the things she said to encourage this. As we talked, he wavered back and forth: public, home, public, home. . .I told him he needed to make a list for each and to pray.

I understand that his last year's experience is something he needs to overcome, but really it's more than a year - it's all his years. And I understand he could potentially make more friends, but he could potentially be an outcast and desperately lonely and angry, something I find more likely with his history. I also understand that he would need special classes and have more hours of actual work. I know the battles that used to ensue about homework. There will be so much more in 4th grade. And if he goes, I will not fight him over it. I'd rather let him fail. Call me a lousy mother. I'm beyond caring at the moment.

And I know that I would have fewer hours of one on one stress with him for a while. Which is the one and only upside to enrolling him in my book. I confess: I don't find him very likable right now. I'd rather lay in my bed and weep than talk to him or look at him. I hate myself for feeling that way.

I have his new Sonlight books for our home school year. I have the current math we're partway through ready to resume, as well as the free online Spanish lessons, the typing course planned for the computer we are supposed to buy in a couple weeks. I've got a homeschool group we're planning to join with friends we already know. I have a cool writing class online that I want to enroll him in for 8 weeks - though he hates 'controlled writing' - I simply said he'd always be average and never excel in it if he couldn't learn to listen and follow directions....and that's his choice. The thing is - he has amazing potential. Amazing. It kills me to see the lazy streak so strong. But he has to choose for himself, too. So many things I look forward to, things I can tweak at home, that will be set in stone in school.

But I need to pray. And listen. And curl up and sleep for 100 hours. Maybe when I wake up someone else will have made the decisions for me.

the good, the bad, and the not-too-ugly

We finally made the move one week ago.

I had prayed and pleaded with the Lord to send enough help – I was absolutely unable to get it all done and worried how that would affect the move – I asked for packing help as well as moving help. I am humbled by the sheer number of people who came to help us – and not just by how many, but by who they were. They were family, they were life-time friends who worked out their schedule to be here, they were old high school friends we had not seen since graduation, and they were even the spouses of people we knew just a little bit! Some stayed from early until late, barely taking a break to eat, some had to leave early and others showed late. There was a constant rotation of fresh hands to help those who never left. My neighbor commented on just how much help we got when she brought over fresh tea and warm blueberry muffins. I had one family keep my older kids overnight, a few helping me finish the packing on the last two days and the rest were an endless cycle of moving furniture and boxes and kindness. I maintain that I do not know of any way to truly express the gratitude I feel. Blessings were poured out upon us by over a dozen people on Friday and Saturday.

As for the rest:

The hot water only lasts a few minutes from scalding to frigid in five, baby. Surely that is something that can be tweaked, but even if not, it GETS WONDERFULLY HOT FOR ME!

The people at the phone company totally messed us over. Repeatedly. They finally got it set up Thursday, but we were a breath from eliminating them altogether and finding some other solution for our needs. We're still in consideration, so if you have tips on how to accomplish it inexpensively, do tell! (We don't really care about cable, just a phone and internet…)

In the move, I lost my new bottle of asthma meds.

But I got a month's supply of samples from the doc, so that worked out to my advantage, really.

One of my kind friends or family helping me pack managed to pack up a little Fed Ex envelope that had Little B's completed Iowa Test of Basic Skills – due back with a postmark no later than July 19 (two days after the move). We have not found it yet. He finished it a day or two before the move, so it's not like we'd just been hanging on to it needlessly, and we had planned to send it the day after he finished….we just got so busy packing we overlooked that detail.

The company I ordered the ITBS from was very nice about the test being MIA and told me not to stress, she'd note it in the file, and to send it when we find it. I do want it found soon, though – no need to push the limits in such things. Excellence in customer service, no doubt.

My parents gave me a stackable washer and dryer for the new house.

I sold my old washer and gave away my old dryer a few days before the move, after doing tons and tons of laundry which I thought was close to caught up.

The new one had a different plug that needed switching out, so it was not ready the night we moved in like I'd counted on, and not the next day either. Double oops.

It's working now, and I have clean clothes again, even though Baby J wore trunks one day when I could not find shorts for him. I'm sure they're here someplace…

There is a LOT to do around here – I don't mind doing it, but the kids are going nuts with things out of sorts and that slows me down which in turn keeps them nuts longer. Sigh. Oh, sweet routine, where are you?

Little B has huge amounts of acreage to ride his bike on once the summer camps are done for the day – we got 2-way radios to keep track of him which provides him more freedom. He needs it fiercely at the moment.

I had my 16 week prenatal visit last week. I measured five – count them, F I V E weeks bigger (yes, that means I look 21 weeks pregnant). Apparently, that's because the uterine muscle gets bigger with each pregnancy, but still, it's a tad worrisome for a lady who's noted for her big babies….just sayin'.

I think I'm cute pregnant – all belly. And I'm not feeling sick anymore! Someone must have been praying for me to feel better, because in the past I have always felt sick until at least the halfway mark.

That's all folks. For now, anyway, because I'm sure I'll find more to say soon. And I'll try to put up a few pictures of the horse in our yard at the very least.