A Memory From Last Fall

Today has reminded me so much of last year's weather. Rainy and chilly. Not only has it made me recall the weather but also some funny memories. I thought I'd share one in particular. I hope you get as much of a laugh at it as I do. :)

 I wrote the following account last year on October 19th, just 10 days before going into labor with little F.

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We've almost finished the baby room's floor (yes, it's taken us forever and a day...but we're near the end :). Last Saturday Z was able to Polyurethane the floor. So, my job this week has been to sand the old base boards and repaint them. I got them well sanded yesterday and did the first coat of paint this morning. I figured since I already had the paint trays/brushes out I might as well work on the trim and the doorway to match. :) I wiped down on the walls and trim that were still covered with dust from sanding down the floors and took off the door handle. I grabbed my paint roller, brush, and tray, and decided to start on the doorway first. I know a good painter would actually take the door off and paint it but, who has time for that?! I started on the backside (inside of the baby room) of the door but wasn't able to quite get in the corner, so I shut the door. It was then that I realized I had just locked myself inside the room. I tried to grapple the inside of the door knob with my fingers, but it proved to be pointless. My first thought was, "Oh no! I have to be at SCA today..." I had no phone and no way of knowing what time of day it was. I just knew it was close to lunch time because I was hungry...and boy, was that commode calling my name, too. I sat there for awhile wondering what do. I had two options: wait for Z to get home or climb out the window and either contact a neighbor or walk to the church.

I chose the latter. I climbed/jumped out of the window (the window sits about 5 feet from the ground outside, so not too bad). But, none of the neighbors that I know well enough to go ask for help from were home. All of the windows and doors to our house were locked. The one spare key we had had outside was in my purse (inside :) because I had used it last week when I couldn't find my keys, and I obviously failed to put it back outside since then. So, I stood on the porch and considered whether I should go make a new friend by meeting a new neighbor to see if they knew how to pick a lock (there are these guys redoing the house catty-corner to us, and I figured surely they would know how to pick a lock)- or if I could at least use their phone to call the church and tell them that I wouldn't be able to make it to class. Instead, though, I decided to just walk to the church. My lesson plans consisted of the students doing peer reviews with their rough drafts. So, while I wasn't dressed for the occasion, I could at least go and tell them my predicament and get someone to possibly cover for me or see if they would let me teach with shorts (shorts are a pretty strict no-no at SCA).

I set out with my head up and smiling. Honestly, I couldn't help but laugh at myself, so the smile came naturally. But, I decided to hold my head up that way people wouldn't stop to ask if I needed help. In the rainy, 40-50 degree weather I had on shorts, an over-sized, paint covered, holey, red, "JC Penney's Biggest Sale of the Year" t-shirt, with black socks and slippers (thankfully my slippers have rubber bottoms...though, I found out that there are holes in those too). I thought about taking off the slippers before jumping out the window, but in the end I was thankful I didn't. :)  I knew I looked 9 months pregnant and homeless. I realized that I missed the "Walk a Mile in My Shoes" walk-a-thon to help the homeless several months back - this was my best attempt to make up for missing the event. The 2.4ish mile trek went quite nicely, actually. I was thankful that it was rainy - that meant that no one was outside to comment on my appearance (normally I get several comments on my preggo-ness on my walks around town). I did have one lady who stopped while going through downtown. She asked if I was okay or needed anything. I told her I was fine...just locked myself out of my house while painting. She, apparently, had seen me earlier in the day as well, so she knew I had been walking for awhile. I told her I was almost to my destination. The only other comment I got was from a couple of teenage boys who were like, "Dude! What are you thinkin'?! Shorts?! Man, I gotta have my hoodie!" By that point my fingers and toes were numb, but I didn't know what to say, and they were obviously slowing down for an answer. So, I just replied with a chuckle, "Well, I have an interior heater," pointing to the kiddo as I waddled past them (and by that point I was truly waddling).

When I finally got to the church I was quite the site. My slippers and socks were soaking wet. My hair, which had been straightened, was now curly, and my arms/hands were purple. Thankfully everybody was in class or study hall, so I was able to escape from all the questions. I went to office (after I visited the commode, of course) and Mrs. C. and Sidney couldn't stop laughing when they saw me. I couldn't either. I laughed so much I started crying. I asked her what she thought I should do - I had one hour before my class was suppose to start. Then Mr. D., who was at the church working on some repairs, walked in and offered to help. I told him I didn't know what he could do unless he could pick a lock...then he suggested going back in through the window and taking the hinges off the door. I hadn't thought of that. :) So, Mr. D. volunteered to drive me back home and help me get back in the house. I told Mrs. C. I was hopeful to be back within the hour, but if I wasn't, Sid was willing to sit in for me with the kids.

Mr. D. quickly got a few tools together and a small ladder, and we were off. When we got to our house I showed Mr. D. around back to the unlocked window. He set up his ladder and had a little bit of trouble getting the window to open. But, we finally got it up, and he started to climb in. When he got about half way in, however, there was a big bang that echoed in the empty room. The window that was up had fallen on the floor inside. Mr. D.'s feet were pretty much dangling out the window (barely touching the ladder anymore) and his other half was leaning awkwardly inside. My heart stopped beating for a minute, and I thought we'd for sure lost Mr. D., for sure. When I saw him lay across the window motionless, and when he didn't respond to my frantic, "Mr. D?! Are you okay?!" the only thing I could think was "Mr. D. is dead!" I should have remembered that Mr. D. just always takes a little longer to respond. He finally lifted himself up a bit and said, "Oh...my head'll heal. I just wanted to make sure the glass didn't break." Apparently, while leaning over the window sill, he was just examining things (I have to admit, I was thinking about this last night when I couldn't sleep...it gave me a good chuckle to remember this scene of life). The  bottom window had somehow become detached and fallen off. The window frame was chipped a wee bit, but he thought it would be easily glued back together (he later tried to explain to me how to do it and what to use...but, my brain was fried already. I figured if Z didn't know what to do, we could just ask Mr. D at church). He got a better foot grip on the ladder and was able to get in and use his screwdriver as a door handle. I was sooo glad when we didn't have to take the hinges off my door and possibly mess up my paint job!

Mr. D. left with his tools and headed back to the church, and I scrambled to get dressed, get some of my books/grades/papers together for class, and sloppily put together a sandwich. I was quite famished. I also was able to talk to Z for a few minutes in here. After I told him briefly about my days unexpected schedule of events he suggested that we hide 10 keys outside. :) Well, then I bundled up, grabbed my purse, locked the front door from the inside, and slammed the door behind me as I walked out. Then I realized my car wasn't in the driveway. Z had taken it to work because his car has been leaking oil and doesn't want to take it too far without having it checked out first. Well, with my car keys are also my house keys. I thought, for a moment, I'd locked myself out again. Then I remembered the spare key in my purse that I hadn't ever put back in place. :) So, I ran around and went through the back door and hopped in Z's car. I pushed the garage door opener while eating my ham  sandwich, but when I looked up the door wasn't up. I thought for a minute that maybe I didn't push the button (I figure my mind has obviously been in la-la land all day, so it'd be easy to forget whether or not I pushed a button), so I pushed it again. I started the car and found again that the door still wasn't up. I tried to push it again and this time watched as the door started to open and stopped after two seconds. Of all the things to go wrong. I recalled trying to open the garage door from the outside earlier in the day when I was checking all the windows and doors (just to see if it would open :) and, apparently, I had detached it from the automated system. Not only had I managed to lock myself out of the house, but now I had also locked the car inside the garage.

I called Mrs. C. to tell her that I wouldn't be able to make it and to just have Sidney fill in for me...but, then she said she would send Mr. C. to come get me. Another person to rescue me. :) I did make it to class. By the time I got out of class everyone and their brother had heard what had happened and wanted me to tell the story. I felt quite popular. I'm glad everyone got a good laugh out of it. Then the C.'s offered to drive me home instead of waiting at the library for Z...I thought that was pretty nice of them, too.

I'm pretty sure that this kiddo (my interior heater :) wants to jump out and join the excitement after my little adventure.

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Women's Retreat Audio

Earlier I shared about being at the women's retreat last week, so I thought I'd link to the sermon audio for some of the talks.

These really are worth listening to.

"With Him: Jesus' Passion for Discipleship"

"Go Therefore: Jesus' Vision for Discipleship"

Lessons From Retreating

Thanks to my mother, this past weekend I was able to go to a presbytery women's retreat. I brought F with me since Z needed to plan and catch up on grading. Normally she's really good around people (including strangers) and adjusts well to being in new places. But, this weekend did not follow the "normal" pattern. She wailed anytime someone extended their arms out to hold her. Some ladies only had to look at her before she'd pucker out her bottom lip and then expose her entire mouth with an instant cry, testifying that she does indeed have a diaphragm (sometimes we wonder if she has one :).

At the beginning of the first talk I put F in the care of two very gentle and caring girls, both of whom I have known a long while. However, half way through the talk one of the them came to tell me that F was crying and wouldn't stop. I headed to the nursery thinking that by the time I got there she'd be fine. Boy, was I wrong. I've never heard my child scream so loudly and never for so long. I felt so bad for the girls who were watching her, so I took her outside to calm her down but soon came to the realization that taking her back to the nursery was not an option. I finally got her to calm down when I spotted some kittens. She loved them. Finally, we made it back into the conference room. My sister who was sitting next to me, opened her arms, offering to take F. Oops. At that moment of interrupting the talk, I thought of that quote I once saw on Pinterest, "You're making it very difficult for me to be the parent I always dreamed I would be." :) Well, I missed the rest of talk, I wasn't able to collect my thoughts enough to really focus on and answer the questions during the small group discussion, and while I had a couple good quick catch-up-conversations with some friends, I found myself having to constantly excuse myself or interrupt the conversation altogether. I eventually decided to head back to the room and put F to bed - which took more effort and tears than usual. This was not my idea of a good night - especially at a retreat.

While F was crying I burst out into tears, not out of empathy but of frustration, praying out loud that F would stop crying. Seeking consolation, I called my husband. After a couple minutes it was plain to see that it was useless to try and talk over F's crying, so we said goodnight. Thoughts like, "This is the roughest night I've ever had as a mom," "I don't know how much more I can take," "Why did I even come to this retreat?" or "Why didn't I just leave F at home?" flooded my mind.

Then I began to think about how for some mothers this is a common occurrence. This is their "normal." They must be so mature and be filled to the brim with character. No joke. So, while for some this wouldn't be a moment of desperation, for me it was. I was at my wits' end.

Filled with tears, I started to pray. And while I prayed my mind was drawn toward some of the things that Jared said in the first half of the talk that I heard. He spoke from Luke 5 when Jesus called Peter and Matthew to follow Him, highlighting Jesus' passion for discipleship. Jesus chose those who were despised and opened their eyes to see that Jesus is God. They fell down, confessed their unworthiness, worshiped Him, and abandoned their lives to follow Jesus. Jared noted that Peter, Isaiah, Ezekial, and John, upon seeing God, immediately bowed down because they simply could not stand in the presence of a holy God. But, in each of those cases, God picked them up and gave them His words so they could give it to the nations. Then he said, "Those most transformed by the holiness of Christ are the most fruitful for the kingdom of Christ."

At that moment I realized that I could sit there and sulk about the fact that I wished I hadn't come, that F wouldn't sleep, or that I couldn't talk with friends, meet new people, or play games. Or I could take this moment of utter helplessness to ask God to transform me by the holiness of Christ and make me fruitful for the building up of His kingdom. It struck me how unthankful I had been ever since arriving at the retreat, even when two days earlier I was sad because I thought I wouldn't be able to go. Yet, my mother graciously and thoughtfully offered to pay my way and take me with her. And I had the audacity to complain?! Not to mention that as a new mother, I've had it pretty good. And I began to think more about all the other mothers there at the retreat who had much bigger struggles than I did. God gave me a desire to pray for them. And through praying for them, God blessed me and made me more useful and fruitful - because prayer is powerful in the building up of Christ's church. It amazes me how graciously God will change us even when we don't even realize it sometimes.

Quite honestly, looking back on it now, I'm not sure how all my thoughts connected. But, that evening I became so much more filled with the peace and joy of God that only He can give. And, while the next day wasn't exactly "normal," it was oh-so-much-better because God had put a new song in my heart.

Oh, and Saturday evening when we got home, Z spotted a new tooth on F's upper gum. Double blessings. :)

A Couple Funnies

Sometimes my husband thinks I'm funnier than I think I am. I tell stories or make remarks without thinking about the pun involved. He always picks up on puns.

To give a bit of background, after F was born, the hospital told me about a breastfeeding support group that they offer for women during the baby's first year. I've gone off and on to weigh F on the scales and in hopes of meeting other moms. It wasn't as helpful as I had hoped with making new friends (too awkward, in my own estimation), but it's nice to be able to see how much and how fast F grows. Anyway, the other day I was telling Z about a conversation I had with a woman I met at MOPS (yes, I caved and joined a MOPS group last week, yet another attempt at meeting other moms in the area...hopefully this attempt is a bit more successful :). It went something like this:

Me: "Hi, I'm Flo."
Her: "Oh, I know you."
Me: "Oh, really? I'm sorry I don't seem to recognize you."
Her: "Oh, that's okay. But, you went to that breastfeeding support group, didn't you?"
Me: "Yeah, I went for a little bit. I go off and on to weigh my daughter, but don't go there too much these days."
Her: "Oh, I know what you mean. I was going pretty regularly, but I eventually weaned myself off..."

I don't think she realized her own pun and neither did I. When Z started laughing it took me a minute to comprehend why he was laughing.

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Last week was the first day of school for me. I'm teaching World History this year. :) I have to admit, it's a bit nerve wracking at times, but I think I'll enjoy teaching. I have a great group of kids, a sublime subject, and a solid support group. Couldn't ask for more, right?

Since I'm so young (and younger looking...when strangers guess my age they typically think I'm around 16 :) I decided to try my best and look as old as possible. I woke up early enough to put on make-up (shocker, I know.), do my hair, and slip on a pencil skirt with a blazer jacket. I felt like I had accomplished my goal. That is, until 5 minutes before class started.

With the help of one of my students I had my projector ready to roll and had a couple minutes to spare before class started. I used my free time to chat with a few of the students who had come in the room. After a minute or two a kid, who I had never met before, strolled in, looked around for a few seconds, and then collectively asked the group, "So, do you guys know what our teacher looks like?" One of his friends raised his eyebrows, pointed at me, and said, "That would be her," at the exact same time that I pointed to myself and said, "That would be me." He stood there for a moment as if he didn't know what to say and finally voiced, "Oh. Okay," while shaking his head. Smooth. Very smooth. Despite the fact that he made me realize I had failed in my aim to look older, I think I'm going to like this kid.

"Honey, People Love to Terrorize."

Thankfully, for us as parents, little F doesn't have too many undisturbed nights of sleep. In fact, we've only had one sleepless night (less than 12 hours) since she was about 6 weeks old. However, a couple nights ago, that record was broken. She had a hard time falling asleep, and at 1:30 she woke up crying. When it was clear she couldn't console herself, I went in to check on her. Nothing seemed wrong; although, I thought she might be hungry. I searched the house but couldn't find her bottle (yes, we only have one bottle that we use). Z was the last one to feed her with the bottle; so, although I didn't want to, I roused him. He told me that he left it in F's room right before she went down for bed. I told him I searched and found nothing. He searched and found nothing.

"Honey," I said with worry, "are you going to search the house?" He looked at me inquisitively. I tried again in earnest, "What if someone broke in?"
He laughed, "And took just a bottle?"
I couldn't have been more serious, "Honey, people love to terrorize."

Although, he had high doubts that no one had broken into our house, he searched the house top to bottom. Why I didn't make him carry his knife with him, I have no idea.

I haven't always worried so...not until I became a mother. Now, all those creepy CSI shows, freaky movies, and terrifying news reports haunt me. Every time I hear a creak from F's room I instantly recall an article I read about a 10-month-old who was kidnapped from her room during nap time. Or when I lie awake at night, scenes from a movie I watched in junior high flash through my mind: I re-watch that guy kidnap the kids from their room at night and then stalk the babysitter for years to come. Terrifying.

I've come to realize that I won't be watching many of those types of shows or movies for the rest of my life. Are they interesting? Sure. Are they beneficial for me? Maybe not so much. My fears are real fears. I can't control every thing that happens to my daughter. And, yes, unfortunately there are people out there who kidnap, murder, rape, and hurt people, leaving them scarred for life or dead. Yet, I know and serve God who lovingly cares and protects His people. 

When I was a little girl my parents taught me Psalm 17; and now, we're teaching it to our daughter. Every day we sing, "Keep me Lord as the apple of Your eye; hide me under the shadow of Your wing. Keep me Lord, lest I die; keep me Lord as the apple of Your eye." As God's people we are the apple of His eye; we are exceedingly precious to Him. He wants to protect us by keeping us in the shadow of His wing. So, instead of terrorizing myself, I need to constantly remember the promises of God.

Promises like:

Psalm 4:8
"In peace I will both lie down and sleep;
for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety."

Proverbs 18:10
"The name of the LORD is a strong tower; 
the righteous man runs into it and is safe."

Isaiah 41:10
"Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

Our Life Is A Constant Musical...

  

My husband and I love music. Listening to it and making it (especially harmonizing together) are one of our favorite past times. Music is constantly playing on our computers or radios in our home and cars. At one point I use to think that we sang quite a bit in our home...but now, our life really does seem to be a constant musical, mostly due to this little lady...

Music seems to be her one consolation when life gets tough. When she looses her grip on the coffee table and takes a tumble we sing our boo-boo better. When she thinks she's absolutely starving we sing about cutting up our bread or pouring a bottle of milk. When Mommy or Daddy leaves the room we sing about meeting again sometime soon. Sometimes the songs are made up, other times they're not. 

She also loves music when she's happy, too. I know approximately two songs on the piano (I'm working on building my repertoire :). But, I could play them over and over all day, and I think she'd still sit there at the base of the piano looking up at me with a huge smile while clapping her hands the whole time. Sometimes I let her up on my lap and give her a chance to plunk around; it's an easy way to make her day. :)

This week, however, she learned to play the piano without assistance. Here's a clip of her playing the piano for us one lovely Saturday morning while we were reading and drinking our tea (excuse the sagging pants and the terribly-out-of-tune-piano ;).

Often times I find myself wishing that I was a better writer; I wish I could express my thoughts more fully, explain what I see with more intricate and interesting detail, and could write with a methodical flow.  Then I remember: I'll only become a better writer by simply writing. I had a friend stop by earlier this week while she was in town who encouraged me to start blogging. My hubby agreed and so, here I am. :) Hopefully I will be more diligent and dedicated to my blog so that it is a benefit, both to helping me become a more skillful writer and in keeping up with distant family and friends.