Found a Peanut

He told me he wasn't feeling well when he got home from work. I gave him a hug. After dinner he went to orchestra practice. We watched a movie when he got home. As we climbed into bed that night, he said his stomach was hurting again. I told him I was sorry and rolled over to go to sleep.

Not long later, he was complaining again. He said it was hurting more on his right side now, but it felt better when he laid on that side. "Appendix?" we groggily asked each other. I said, "Well tell me if you think it is and I'll take you to the emergency room."

He moaned through the night and I tried to stay awake so he wouldn't think I didn't believe him (I did) or that I didn't care (I did). Sometime around 4:30 am, he decided we should go. He took a shower while I bundled up our sleeping children and began carrying them to our vehicle. I had thrown on a denim gingham jumper dress because I couldn't find any clean pants in my rush, but because it was cold, I wore my white thermal pants under it and my red college sweatshirt over it. It was too cold for dressy shoes, so I wore white athletic socks with my blue-gray fake converse shoes. I figured I wouldn't be seen by very many and I could change in a few hours. The cold air woke the children as I took them outside, but I knew it was nothing a good nap couldn't cure later on. I could have called a friend, but I hated to wake anyone up so early.

I bought a vending machine breakfast for the children to eat while we waited in the ER waiting room. I wished I could sit with my husband, but the sign said only one visitor, and we were four. Thankfully, one of my husband's coworkers saw us there and offered to sit with my little sleepy heads while I went in to reassure my husband.

When I returned to the waiting room, our smart friend had turned the television to cartoons. Mickey Mouse kept the children happy while we waited for the diagnosis. When the doctor came into the room, I could read the answer on his face. I was relieved when he told me that it had not burst. Surgery would be soon. I asked him if I could bring the children in to see their dad before I found somewhere for them to go. He agreed.

We walked into the small exam room. My husband smiled weakly, his face pale. One by one, the children kissed him. I loaded the babies (yes, I still call them that) into the double stroller and told my husband I'd be back soon.

Though fairly calm, I was in a rush. First, I needed to get my oldest daughter to school. I pulled her hair into a ponytail as we stood outside in the cold. I talked to the neighbor who usually takes her to the bus stop, but her daughter was ill, so I took my daughter to the bus stop myself. This was easy to do because the babies were already in their carseats, and our truck was running with the heater blowing nice warm air.

Daughter on bus. Check.

My husband had given me some instructions to get his classroom ready for the substitute. I drove to his school and did that, checking with the office for a sub list, but it was still before 7:30 and no one was there yet.

I drove home so I could make some phone calls (it is times like these I wish I had a cell phone). I needed to call my husband's parents and let them know what was going on. I needed to find a substitute for my husband and someone to watch my kids. I only had to make two calls to fill each position and then I was off. My goal at this point was to make it back to the hospital before they took my husband in for surgery.

Even after having to run back to the school to replace a book in his classroom, I still made it to the hospital in time to spend an hour with my husband before they wheeled his bed down the hallway. I held his hand and talked to him. His hands were so cold. His hands are only cold when he is very nervous.

"Don't worry," I said. "They've been doing appendectomies for a very long time, I'm sure they have the procedure perfected." But it was the anesthesia he was afraid of. Thankfully, the anesthesiologist was convincingly positive (plus he promised to give my husband something for nerves the moment they arrived in the OR).

I made some phone calls to find an afternoon babysitter for the children. I ate lunch in the cafeteria. I read a very interesting article in a magazine about a woman who had face blindness. The doctor came to the waiting room to tell me my husband was doing fine.

After we were resettled in our room, I told my husband I had to leave to pick up kids from school and transfer all of the children to a different house. I told him to get some sleep and I'd be back soon. Of course, at this point, I remembered how silly I looked. The fact that I had not showered the day before and had no make-up on didn't make me feel any more confident in my appearance, but I didn't have time to do anything about it before pick up time. Of course, that day just had to be the last day of "eat lunch with your family" week, so there were dozens of people in the hallway to see me in all my gorgeousness.

When I saw him again, he was in a lot of pain. More morphine, more lortab, still more pain. Even though they told us we could go home, we decided to stay the night. I didn't want to take him home and not be able to help him. So I found yet another place for the children to go, this time to stay the night. And although Friday is a good night for a sleepover, I was extremely grateful for willing friends who not only took good care of my children, but asked nothing in return. So it was with everyone who babysat for me that day. And another friend made us dinner. I love people!

The rest of our stay was pretty repetitive. When he slept, I slept. When he couldn't sleep, I read to him from an Orson Scott Card book we've been reading together. When he needed to go to the bathroom, I unhooked him from his three tethers and followed him with the IV tree.

He felt much better by morning. He thanked me several times for taking care of him, but I was just relieved that he's still here to take care of me!

Quoting the Cute: Page Eight

Six-year-old: "My favorite game is 'Caracal Leap.'" Me: "What's a caracal?" Six (incredulously): "You know! An African wildcat that can jump three meters high?" (Someone please tell me, did you know that?)

Two-year-old: "Don't talk to me!"

When I take my baby's picture, he now says, "Cheee!"

My father-in-law was explaining to my six-year-old over the phone how he has to tie his apron in the front and then turn it around and she said, "That's what my mom does with her bra."

Oh my.

My husband had an appendectomy. After the surgery, the nurse was checking his blood pressure when my two-year-old daughter told her, "Be careful with my daddy. He has owies."

Sixteen month old: "Ala" (this means "don't" in Finnish), "More," and my personal favorite: "Ma ma ma ma."

Redo of the Do

You know how sometimes you see something or someone in a photograph and you notice things you didn't see before? Like the pictures that showed me, to my horror, that when my hair was pulled straight back into a ponytail, I looked like I had bald spots on the sides...For a long time after that, I wore my hair down only, but eventually I learned how to part my hair just right to cover my sparse spots, even with a ponytail.

So after I posted this picture here, I noticed that it was all looking a little tacky.

After thinking about it for awhile, I remembered I had another pot that would look better. It wasn't even in use because I could never find a plant small enough to go in it. I also had to re-cover the phone book because I got a new one and it was smaller.

Now I can't decide if it's better or too matchy...

A Few of My Favorite Things

My husband's grandmother made this quilt for us when we got married. It was begging for a matching pillow. Thanks to some math help from my foster dad, I was able to figure out a crochet pattern. And before you go thinking that I am one of those people who can sew or crochet without a pattern, I'm not. I just got really lucky this time!

This item may seem silly, but every time I see this basket, it makes me smile inside. I got the idea from a catalog, which had this saying displayed right on the material in the basket. I thought it would be even better if it looked like it was circled and ripped out of a want ad.

I love to hide unsightly useful objects whenever I can. This pot of flowers (which is a bouquet of pens) and paper-covered phone book makes me feel like my counter top is uncluttered. (When it actually IS uncluttered, which is hardly ever, but I'm working on that!)

Lily Dee

I was almost six months pregnant when my sister called to tell me she was also expecting. We talked about how fun future family gatherings would be with the little cousins playing together. I could also picture sisterly phone conversations as we passed through the motherhood phases together.

My sister's doctor recommended bed rest when her baby was nearly full term. Because her husband was serving in Iraq, I packed up my baby girl and went to stay with her as much as possible.

It was nice to just be together. I became addicted to HGTV. And when TLC had a "Clean Sweep" marathon, I was suddenly a couch potato.

I took a picture of my sister standing in the pink nursery with a rocking chair and a crib all made up behind her.

On one of her appointment days, I went home. I wish I could go back in time and change that day. I wish I would have been there with her when the doctor told her that her baby was going to die.

The next week was like a foggy dream. I longed for the right words, and the intuition to hug her at the right moment. Instead, in trying to help, I felt completely helpless.

I took her phone and talked to people so she wouldn't have to. I tried to give her space so she could cherish the time she had left with her daughter.

I was not there when Lily was born. I did not want to intrude on that private moment between my sister and her husband, who was able to come home for a couple months. I was on the way there when my dad called me. He said, "Lily didn't make it." It was Valentine's Day. I thought of the first time my baby looked at me. I cried bitterly, knowing my sister would not have that experience now.

My sister gave birth without the aid of pain medication. At birth, the baby never took a breath, but she was warm, small, and beautiful. I arrived not long after. When I walked into the hospital room, I put my baby, asleep in her carseat, in the corner. Then I went to admire the delicate features of my lost little niece. My sister asked where my daughter was. She asked to see her. My sister's love for my daughter never diminished, not even in her deepest anguish.

The funeral was a few days later. After the tiny pink coffin had been lowered into the ground, I watched as my sister bent low to the ground, almost reaching. My dad knelt on one side of her and held her hand while my mom held her arm on her other side. It was the first time in years our parents had been anywhere near each other. They came together for my sister. That moment was so painful, but somehow it was also beautiful.

I don't know many things, but I know that we are eternal, and I know God loves us.

I think it is fitting that Lily's Day will always be the day the world celebrates love.

Snapshots of the Sacred Garden

Sadly, this garden has been uprooted. I'm glad I got a few pictures of it first.



I pray for my sister as she searches for a new place to plant.

Living in the Sticks

Yesterday I wanted to dye. Okay: not funny. But really, I wanted to dye some lace and in previous weeks I was unable to find dye in the color I wanted at any of the four stores that might possibly sell it in my area. I had even checked Walmart last time I was in the "city," but no taupe or cream or tan. This was no surprise to me since it seems Walmart never has what I need anymore. We've been on the outs for quite awhile now, but I'm thinking about divorcing Wally for good.

Anyway, so yesterday I made it my mission to search every grocery or department store in the "city," which is almost thirty miles from my house. I even stopped at a sparsely stocked shopping center on the way, with no luck. Then came the exercise workout of harnessing and unharnessing a one-year-old and two-year-old what felt like fifty times to all of us, not to mention carrying thirty pounds of wiggly until my arms ached. Lowe's? No. Kmart? No. Family Dollar? No. Smith's? No! (But I almost laughed out loud in the laundry aisle when I heard U2 empathetically singing from above, "And I still haven't found...what I'm looking for...")

So, after searching four stores in my town, and another four in the "city," I finally found tan dye in the fifth store, which I guess was really the ninth store.

I almost giggled.