The Fate of My Daughter's Toy Box

I realize that it must be very difficult to work for a toy company in this age of technological advance. Kids these days want new games for their Wii or X-Box, apps for their phones, software to edit photos and videos, and ipods and mp3 players. Who, above the age of 2, really wants toys any more?  I'm sure that toy makers have a huge challenge in designing toys that will appeal to kids, and even then, only a very few will stand the test of time.

For example, Lincoln Logs have been popular for years and years. And why not? Who wouldn't want to build their very own log cabin from logs named after a great president? And if Mom and Dad splurged, why your cabin could also have little plastic evergreen trees, feeding troughs and animals all around it. Come on- that's a good time.  Or who doesn't enjoy the building creativity awarded by a good old box of Legos? You can build ANYTHING with a Lego set, even though I never felt as if the sets furbished enough sets of wheels to really create the utopian Lego society I envisioned. That's okay because, still? Hours of fun. And who could forget that sweet set of plastic half-pipes and tunnels you had to construct just right so that when you dropped the marble down it rolled throughout obstacles and over paths to come out victoriously at the bottom?! Everyone cheered when that marble emerged- after all it had been through. And you could build and rebuild for ever! Fun! Fun! Fun!

Yes, some toys, no matter how many Wiis or ipods or apps in all the world, some toys will stand the test of time.

But this?

This is a barbie who is a movie star and is also secretly a fairy princess.

What?

How....?
I mean, why...?
I mean, who in their right mind...?

This barbie will stand no test. IF she is purchased at all, her weird fairy princess wings will fall off, her movie star glam will fade (come on, beauty does not last forever) and she will most likely be replaced next year by the Barbie who is a movie star, fairy princess, mermaid, circus clown and devoted tax payer.

Toy makers- I know its tough out there, but this is unacceptable. Is this what my daughter has to look forward to in years to come? Is this what her toy box is to be stocked with? Say it ain't so. You simply must do better than this.

A Scary Sunday

I am home today cleaning- toliets, laundry, floors, dishes- and I am SO HAPPY. Truly. Not even a tad bit of sarcasm, because? Well, because this weekend we had a HUGE scare at our home and I have been reminded of just how much I love my simple, non-eventful, toilet scrubbing life.

It all started Sunday morning around 9:30. The kids slept late so I was trying to make Naomi a quick breakfast before we all got ready for church. Reuben was upstairs with Lincoln getting ready to bring him downstairs. Then, as I handed Naomi her cup of milk, I heard a resounding THUNK from upstairs.

Any of you parents know that when you hear a thunk you don't move right away. Perhaps a book has been dropped, or lamp knocked over, or a shoe thrown.  As Reuben was upstairs I didn't react right away. Until I heard the shriek come from my 3 month old son. 

It was horrendous. I could tell immediately two things: something had hurt him and I needed to move fast. I abandoned Naomi to her milk and raced upstairs to find Lincoln shrieking in Reuben's arms.

"What happened?!" I almost whispered the words, afraid of the answer.

Reuben explained that he had been holding Lincoln with one arm and with the other was reaching for something off of the top of the wardrobe closet in our upstairs hallway. At exactly the moment Reuben reached, Lincoln lunged backwards and Reuben, who desperately tried to catch him, could not. Lincoln fell backwards and hit his head on our carpeted floor.  I immediately began to cry as I reached for him, remembering the loud thud and wincing at the picture of my baby's head hitting our floor.

I took him downstairs, checked on Naomi, and then searched Lincoln's head for bruising or bumps. A HUGE goose-egg had emerged, and I panicked.  

"We're taking him..." I firmly decided. Three minutes later we were out the door, Naomi still in her pjs, my hair looking less than stellar. It's funny what you absolutely don't care about in times like these.

After a very long wait (yeah- what about "Emergency Room" means make the baby with the huge bump on his head wait forever?) Lincoln and I headed to radiology to get a CT-Scan of his brain. The results would show that he had suffered a fracture to his skull and had two small bruises on his brain. My mind swam, my stomach turned to jelly.  The doctor who gave us this news said that his injuries were not life threatening and that they would heal on their own, nonetheless, they wanted to keep him overnight to do some observations. I couldn't understand what about fracture on a skull and bruising on the brain was non-life threatening, but I really wanted to believe him.

After a quick phone call, my friend Kendra came to pick up Naomi from the hospital (how blessed we are to have such good friends, especially for times like these). We made phone calls to our family and other friends requesting prayer, then got admitted into our room for what was the longest day and night of our lives.

I was on edge most of that time, watching his every move. After a few hours of which Lincoln was very upset and even inconsolable at times, I requested some Tylenol for him. That really seemed to help him feel more comfortable and as the day went on my little boy started acting like himself again. He smiled and cooed and laughed and acted as if nothing at all had happened. Oh the relief that came with that first smile.   

After some burgers from Burger King (thanks Christine!), hospital beef stew, three tacos, tiny cups of juice, a million check-ups for my little one, just as many prayers, sleeping on and off all through the night, and a dozen recurring panic attacks, we were discharged from the hospital. Lincoln had passed all of his "tests" with flying colors. They scheduled a follow-up appointment with our pediatrician who said he was doing great and had no concerns.  We were told it would take 4-6 weeks for his skull to heal, but that we didn't need to do anything different or special. 

I was, and still am, a bit shell-shocked. How quickly a morning can change from the mundane to the eventful. 

I am so thankful to all of our family and friends who responded with prayers, food, kind words and hugs. 

And now we are home. Our son is playing with his father, our daughter is taking a nap and I am taking a quick break from cleaning. Simple, uneventful, perfectly sweet. 

And for the record? I'll take cleaning toilets over admitting my children into the hospital any day.

Counting my way to a thousand blessings:

72. doctors

73. nurses

74. friends there at the drop of a hat to take care of your daughter or bring food even when you don't feel like eating

75. the comforting hugs from my parents

76. his smile

77. his laugh

78. dinner from a friend

79. prayers 

80. emails saying "we care"

81. toilets

Love on the Run

A few days before Valentine's Day I read about an event called Love on the Run on a friend's blog. The event is sponsored by Porridge Papers, a local paper mill, and consists of typing a love note to someone and having it sent to them in a glass bottle on Valentine's Day. Of course I loved this idea, so last Friday night my friend Mary and I went to Porridge Papers to check it out.

When we arrived, I immediately loved the atmosphere. It smelled wonderfully of freshly prepared paper (I think, I've actually never smelled freshly prepared paper before). There was music playing in the background, a photo area where guests could get small polaroid pictures taken of themselves to include in their Valentine's Day delivery, and adorable old-fashioned cards on shelves sprinkled all around. Helpful staff and old typewriters were scattered throughout the mill as well. 

We were given our instructions and then chose our typewriters.

Here's Mary pretend typing a note so we could take a picture (because we forgot to take pictures while we actually typed).

Isn't that a lovely typewriter?

After typing our notes and getting our pictures taken, we gave the notes to the staff who rolled them and placed them in glass bottles and then put the bottles in cute little bags which we wrote addresses on for delivery. We also slipped our little polaroids in the bags as well.

Isn't that adorable? 

After addressing our bags, we were asked to sign the book of love- a massive book made right at the paper mill.

Then we were handed paint markers and told we could sign the window of the mill outside!  Here's what we wrote:

Mary's message to her honey!

My message to my "Rubix-Cube". 

Love on the Run was a great event and I encourage everyone in the area to check it out next year.  Reuben loved his message in a bottle and Mary and I had a great time. I especially loved that the entire event was:

FREE!

I Heart My Mom

There are very few people in this world who truly "get me". I don't mean "like me".  I like to think that my friends like me, my husband, perhaps even strangers I've chatted with in the check-out lane at Wal-Mart found me likable (perhaps).  But many people who like me don't always "get me". They wonder why I must talk a mile a minute, why I must make up silly nonsense songs, why my canned goods must go before frozen items on the check-out conveyer belt, and why I find it necessary to throw my banana peel at someone when I am finished with my banana.  My mom, however, doesn't wonder at any of these things, because she really, truly gets me.

My mom and I often think the same thoughts- we know cause then we say them out loud and realize this. We like the same movies, foods, clothing, etc. On the rare occasion when we make fun of others, we make fun of the same things. (I mean like commercials and things, not real people.  Okay, sometimes real people, but they totally had it coming!) She also makes up silly nonsense songs, is capable of talking a lot, and has weird quirks like mine (cleaning off your "space" in restaurants, you know what I'm talking about Mom!) In short, she is the pod to my pea. :)  And that is why I am excited for tomorrow, for we have plans.  Our plans include leaving my two adorable but hard to take anywhere children home with my husband, eating our favorite soups at our favorite restaurant, Olive Garden, getting pedicures, going earring shopping (I forgot to tell you that Mom but I need some earrings because your granddaughter lost or broke ALL of mine), then renting movies, ordering pizzas from Sam and Louie's and spending the rest of the day/evening in our pjs watching chick flicks and eating pizza and other tasty and not good for you treats. And we decided that she MUST sleep over to culminate the day even though she lives only 6 blocks away. And to top it all off the weather looks like it is going to be beautiful!  Hooray!

What are your weekend plans?

Your Dentist is a Liar

I am going to post this and then I will be on my way to the dentist to have a filing replaced. The dentist is absolutely one of my least favorite places to go. I loathe it. Why? There are many reasons, most involve my very strong desire to avoid any amount of pain.  But also, my dentist is a liar. And I am sorry to have to be the one to break this news to you, but your dentist is also a liar. Sure he's friendly- smiles all the time, makes pleasant conversation before beginning his work on your teeth (sometimes during). Maybe even, like mine, he's gone to great lengths to put a television screen above the chair so you can watch t.v. during your cleaning. That's so nice. What a sweetie.

He's still a liar. Sorry.

It's okay. Don't beat yourself up for picking the wrong dentist. You had no choice in the matter. All dentists are liars. Yep, all of them.

Because all dentists say things like,

"I'll do whatever I can to help make you the most comfortable."
You'll do"whatever"? Really? Then why am I not in a hot tub getting a massage and sipping a virgin daiquiri in the Hawaiian islands while you magically fix my teeth WITHOUT touching me? Yeah, well then you didn't mean you'd do whatever it takes did you? Liar.

Then there's- "You're just going to feel a tiny poke."
Umm, if I can feel it, it isn't tiny. It's large and it hurts and my gums are sensitive and what about shoving a needle into them seems tiny to you Mr. Dentist? Li-ar.

Or my personal favorite- the sign that reads: "Gentle Dentistry".  Who on earth is going to fall for that one? That is just a bull-faced, smack ya in yer mouth, blatant LIE. No dentistry is gentle. Not any. Big. Fat. Liar.

What's unfortunate is that they can lie and totally get away with it because, well because I don't have all those fancy gadgets to clean my teeth with at home and they do look wonderful and sparkly when I'm done and I haven't the faintest idea how to go about fixing a toothache or replacing a filling or removing my wisdom teeth.  And they know this.  So they lie, and they clean and they replace our fillings and we just have to take it.

But at least we know the truth. And the truth shall...nope. That doesn't work here.

Well, I guess I'd better be off to where I am most comfortable and where I'll only feel a tiny poke because dentistry is so gentle. (If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?)

Snapshot of Number One: Counting my way to One Thousand Gifts

In the secret, in the quiet place, in the stillness You are there.

I think of that great song by Sonic Flood that starts that way and I laugh. What is secret or quiet or still in my life these days? 

I wake early to nurse our baby boy who sleeps in a bassinet next to our bed. He doesn't go back to sleep so I abandon hopes for a morning shower or a cup of tea to myself. Then our toddler wakes up and I spend the morning making breakfast for my husband and sending him off to work, trying to convince our daughter that our infant son does not want goldfish crackers shoved into his mouth, having dance parties, picking up toys only for them to be thrown back down again, and crunching fallen goldfish comrades underfoot. 

Is there some secret place I can retreat to, even for a moment?  Some wardrobe leading to a paradise (preferably a warm paradise) if I only go far enough inside?

I slip away to the bathroom and my toddler follows even there. Not much quiet or still or secret round these parts. 

We make it through the morning and with the baby tucked against my hip I prepare lunch with one arm, manage to, still with that one arm, lift our toddler and snap her into her booster chair and I quickly start eating before the baby gets fussy and I need two hands to soothe him. I reach to give my daughter her sippy cup and stop short. 

Her hands are folded, her head is bowed and she is talking low. Praying for her meal. 

She found the quiet place. She found the secret place and even though she is too young to understand why we pray she knows we do and she stopped long enough and was quiet long enough to find a time to do it.

I blush embarrassment and thank her for reminding me. We pray together and slow down a little to enjoy each other and our lunch. And I thank God for a little girl who found  the small, wardrobe/window into His place today. 

Counting My Way to One Thousand Gifts...

1. a toddler who prays

2. a play date with a friend

3. warm chili on the stove

4. honey cornbread

5. being a mommy

6. tiny feet dancing to Jack's Big Music Show

7. read through the Bible in chronological order in a year plan

8. blogs that inspire

9. blogs that make me laugh

10. homeschooling materials

What Dirty Dishes Are For

I wrote a letter to a friend today that she suggested I share with you all. I changed a little so as not to give away personal information about her life, but most of it is the same:

Hello Friend,

I am feeling very Ann Voskamp-y today, of course because I am reading her book right now. But anyway, I wrote this letter to you in my head while washing dishes. So I thought I'd type it up.

Thanks for offering to wash my dishes today, but I wanted to explain why I need those dirty dishes in my life right now. Because it feels sometimes, like much around me is chaos. My toddler explorer pulls apart our mail and leaves it in tiny pieces on the un-vacuumed carpet. My infant son cries most days for arms to hold him and voices to soothe him and I am hard up for time to myself these days. And I feel mentally tired and there is so much more to do than clean up pieces of mail and hold my baby.  Our toilets need scrubbing and the stairs need vacuuming, and when was the last time I Windexed the glass, and what ever will I do about money later this year...and if I can't stop and slow down I may miss what God wants me not to miss today. 

And then there is the stack of dirty dishes. They are higher up on my to-do list because the kitchen gets more use and is way more noticeable than the smudgy glass and un-vacuumed steps. So when the baby finally rests and my explorer takes a nap I do the dishes. The dishwasher is broken so its me and my bare hands scraping and scrubbing and it feels good to do this work with my own hands. It feels good to subtract something from the chaos and add a little order. And while I scrub the dirt off the dishes I ask God to scrub the dirt off of me. And I ask for Him to heal our friend's husband with cancer, and I tell Him I miss my sister, and pray that my friend's son finds the college just right for him, and can't He please keep chipping away at the things that keep us from Him, and won't He remind her of how much He loves her and how, even when things are chaotic in her life, He's wiping away the dirt, too, and what is left will be sparkly and clean and even more beautiful? I ask for peace and protection for my kids and for a faith for them that surpasses mine and I ask for a deep, deep love of God to be our center, and please God, please keep me praying.

I scrub with hands deep in water and I think that if I didn't have this mess to bring order to each day I would miss the order he wants to bring to me each day. I would miss His depths and mine, too. I want a life marked by prayer even if some days and in some ways I don't know how it all works or why it all works. And I want to remember Him even in the chaos and disorder in my life because when will things ever for always be peaceful? When will there be only order in my life? If I can't learn to search Him out in the mess of my life then I won't ever learn to search Him out at all because life will always be a little bit chaotic. But I still want Him and I still want the depths. So I scrub and He scrubs and we find each other there, and for a few moments I remember what I'm supposed to be about and those moments stretch in my mind and in my heart all day and so, even amidst the chaos, I grow. I still need to grow.

So, thank you for offering to wash my dishes, but I need them. I really need them. But I don't necessarily need the toilets or stairs. 

Just kidding? :)

Lovies.

Latrice