tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30092486404166160822024-02-18T22:52:55.889-06:00God Will Providelaurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.comBlogger210125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-17970814110667147472015-05-20T11:55:00.004-05:002015-05-20T11:55:58.114-05:00Leaving the nestThe day has come. My oldest, my Frog, is leaving home.<br />
<br />
She is working full-time now, and is going to live with my mom. Mom needs companionship and help with things like cleaning and cooking and grocery shopping and laundry, and those are all things that the Frog is very capable of taking on...and although her house is a mere 25 minutes from here, it seems much farther.<br />
<br />
I *sigh*.<br />
<br />
I haven't yet processed how I'm feeling about this. I am happy for the Frog. I am optimistic for her future and for her time at my mom's. But I'm sad and wistful, too. She's my first little bird to leave the nest!!<br />
<br />
The little ones are all anticipating with a sort of anxiety and beginning to miss her even before she's gone. We're reminding them that there will be plenty of opportunities to visit and even have sleep-overs with their big sister, who has been like a second Mama to them. I'm sure it will all be ok.<br />
<br />
It's interesting to be in this place: my oldest leaving home, and my youngest still climbing into my lap for milkies--to have one foot taking it's first steps in one life season, and the other foot still firmly planted in the season I've been in for nearly two decades now. It's surreal and exciting and scary and affirming and suspenseful all at the same time.<br />
<br />
My prayer is that my Frog will continue to make good choices for herself, that she will remain rooted in the Faith of her upbringing, and that our relationship will remain strong and loving. I pray that she will be happy, that she will be able to work through moments of frustration and anxiety, that she will be able to see the things of her past and remember the lessons she's learned, and draw from all of those things to grow into a confident woman who knows that she is supported and loved, and that she is worthy of that love no matter what.<br />
<br />
The practical things are not a concern for me. I know she will be fine in all of those areas. She is a very capable, hard-working, knowledgeable young woman. It's hard for me to step back sometimes and see that for the reality that it is. My instinct is to help--that's who I am! I'm a helper! I want to see the people around me be ok, have the resources and supplies they need, and share with them where I see that they're lacking. I want to check in with people and be certain that they don't need my help. And although I know that my Frog will ask for help if she needs it, there's part of me that doesn't want to wait for her to ask...and that's not always a good thing, either.<br />
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Letting go is hard. And this is the first of many letting go moments for our family.<br />
<br />
But it's not ever really letting go, is it? Just as parting ways isn't always saying goodbye.<br />
<br />
I wouldn't mind your prayers in this. Pray that I would be able to know when I am needed, and to know when I am not needed, and to respect that boundary in a way that allows my Frog dignified in beginning her life as an adult.<br />
<br />
My prayers are very much with Syria, with the suffering people in that country who are persecuted because they profess their faith in Jesus Christ, or because members of their families do. My prayers are also with the people or Nigeria who seek the faith despite the imminent danger posed to them and their families by organizations who want to see that faith snuffed out. Please join me in praying for these people.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-16379766374945465922015-05-15T11:28:00.001-05:002015-05-15T11:28:26.899-05:00Encountering MarriageOur Marriage Encounter weekend was an incredible blessing. It was work, it was grace, it was balm, and it was something My Darling and I would do again with absolutely no hesitation.<br />
<br />
It began in the evening on that Friday. We arrived at an absolutely beautiful retreat center not terribly far from home (I think our drive time was about 3 1/2 hours, but we had two stops to make on the way). The setting was just lovely--pastoral, blooming, peaceful country, and well off the beaten path. There was no noise from traffic, no view of other buildings, no disruptions whatsoever. We were escorted to our private room, and given time to freshen up and lay out our things.<br />
<br />
Once we were settled, we met with nine other couples in the conference room, where we were introduced to three of the couples, who would be presenting talks for us, and a dear priest, who was also presenting. We were given an overview of what the weekend would look like, and we spent some time that night working on how to dialogue. This form of dialoguing is accomplished by agreeing on a particular question, spending some individual writing time answering the question with a few sentences reflecting on thoughts and a few paragraphs on feelings, and then meeting together privately to read one another's writing and talk about it. A decent portion of time in the conference room was learning the important distinction between <i>thoughts</i> and <i>feelings</i>--because the two are not the same thing. Each time throughout the weekend that we had a new question for dialoguing, we were separated into groups of husbands and wives for the writing portion--so the husbands would stay in the conference room while they wrote, and the wives would be dispersed to the private rooms. At the end of the allotted time, the husbands would join the wives in the private rooms so that the reading and discussion could take place.<br /><br />I found the whole thing to be very laid-back, very informative, and not in the least bit emasculating--and I say this having heard it from My Darling, so it's not just the view of a sometimes emotional woman. ;) The topic of feelings was approached by the presenting couples and priest in a way that did not seem to make any of the attending men squirm in their chairs. I saw no rolling eyeballs, heard no throat-clearing, noticed no twitching. I think one of the reasons for this is because we were encouraged to use descriptors that fall under general categories--happy, sad, angry, and "other"--that help to be specific, rather than wishy-washy. But that's just what <i>I</i> think.<br />
<br />
There was no group discussion, no pressure to share anything that we had written or talked about, and there was ample time for us to be together as a couple. We were able to talk with other couples during meals, and the presenting couples and priest as well. In our setting, we had a generously-sized cafeteria available. Each presenting couple had "their table," with Father at one of them, and we couples rotated where we sat. They had place cards indicating where we would sit, which made it easy to not get stuck sitting in the same place with the same (lovely) people at every meal. We had predetermined topics of discussion at each meal, which helped conversation flow easily. And there were plenty of snacks (each couple brought something to share) and always coffee, tea and water available. We were encouraged to pick up a snack on the way to the conference room each time. Another one of the wives and I remarked that it seemed to be like a cruise--lots of time with your husband, and plenty of food at every turn!<br />
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We also had plenty of opportunity for confession--Father made himself available to us on both Friday and Saturday night. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass was offered on both Saturday and Sunday morning. And the chapel was located directly across the hall from the conference room, so if a person wanted to, they could just go spend some time with Our Lord. It was a pretty great set-up. <br />
<br />
I think we engaged in the dialogue process about a dozen times throughout the weekend. Some of them were fun, and some of them were just....really difficult. I mean, the questions ranged from, "What quality of yours do I appreciate the most?" (in which we were encouraged to mention traits, and not behaviors--e.g. "I appreciate your work ethic," is different from, "I appreciate that you made our dining room table.") to, "What were my expectations of our life together when we married?" to, "In what area do I find it most difficult to listen to you?"<br />
<br />
Y'all, there were more than a few tears shed sometimes. There were some topics that were really difficult to dialogue about, because there were seriously strong feelings involved on both sides.<br />
<br />
Now, they made it very clear that these weekends are not intended to problem-solve. And as much as that sounds difficult, it did get easier as we went along. And in the end, the method of communicating that we learned has made it possible for us to actually approach some of our problem areas far more peaceably than we have in the past. We have been able to take elements of these areas and break them down into questions that we can work on in the dialogue format.<br />
<br />
So healing. And it's tremendously gratifying to hear My Darling actually talk about his feelings--<i>his feelings</i>!--and not feel so shut out. And it's incredibly comforting to know that my feelings are not only valid, but heard and respected by My Darling.<br />
<br />
We needed that weekend, and we'll probably go on another one...or two.....or more.<br />
<br />
I strongly encourage anyone who is married, or anyone who is ordained or consecrated, to attend a Worldwide Marriage Encounter weekend. It doesn't matter how long you've been married, nor how strong your marriage, nor how ably you communicate. Even if your marriage is a great one, a Marriage Encounter weekend will make it better. <br />
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Take a few minutes to <a href="http://wwme.org/" target="_blank">check out the opportunities available to you</a>. You won't regret it.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-2861601932053153942015-04-26T20:55:00.000-05:002015-04-26T20:55:29.627-05:00Oops. Well time has gotten the best of me once again.Good thing it hasn't gotten too far down the road from my last post. I'll try to do better. I don't know that I'll ever get back to the daily post, but I'll do my best to not let it get so long between visits here again.<br />
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My Darling and I have come to a difficult spot in our marriage. There are so many things going on in so many facets of our family life and between the two of us that it becomes more and more difficult to focus on our relationship the way we really need to in order to keep things healthy and vibrant. There are other factors too--things that I still just cannot write about yet. Suffice it to say our upcoming Marriage Encounter weekend is sorely needed and well-deserved. I'm hoping with every bit of faith in me that it will help us get past this place. It feels like we've been in the desert for a very long time. Even the promise of an oasis would be helpful. And Manna would be a double bonus.<br />
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I would like to give some encouragement to anyone who is suffering in their marriage. There are some things which many would find unforgivable. Unbearable. Worthy of annulment. Without showing my hand entirely, I would like to say that forgiveness is possible even in the darkest of hours. Crosses can be borne. And in all but a very, very few circumstances, annulment is not the answer. Support is crucial. Counseling is imperative. And prayer...well, prayer is the frame upon which all must be built. Without prayer, marriage falls as limp and silent as a shadow.<br />
<br />
We're working our way out of the shadow. It's been terribly difficult. It's been painful and exhausting and has all but broken us. The past two plus years have just been...not something I would ever wish for anyone to endure.<br />
<br />
It's always been difficult for me to ask for prayer, and this is no different. There are so many who suffer. So many who bear heartache, who bury those they love, who ache with every breath. Please know that all those are fervently in my prayers as well. But I do ask for prayer for me and My Darling, too. We need to persevere to get through this muck that the devil would leave us mired in. But <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+40&version=NRSVCE" target="_blank">Psalm 40</a> tells me otherwise.<br />
<br />
<div class="poetry">
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<span class="text Ps-40-1"><sup class="versenum">1 </sup>I waited patiently for the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>;</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-1">he inclined to me and heard my cry.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-2" id="en-NRSVCE-16598"><sup class="versenum">2 </sup>He drew me up from the desolate pit,<sup class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NRSVCE-16598a" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NRSVCE-16598a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+40&version=NRSVCE#fen-NRSVCE-16598a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</sup></span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-2">out of the miry bog,</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-2">and set my feet upon a rock,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-2">making my steps secure.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-3" id="en-NRSVCE-16599"><sup class="versenum">3 </sup>He put a new song in my mouth,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-3">a song of praise to our God.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-3">Many will see and fear,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-3">and put their trust in the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>.</span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="poetry top-1">
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<span class="text Ps-40-4" id="en-NRSVCE-16600"><sup class="versenum">4 </sup>Happy are those who make</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-4">the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> their trust,</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-4">who do not turn to the proud,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-4">to those who go astray after false gods.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-5" id="en-NRSVCE-16601"><sup class="versenum">5 </sup>You have multiplied, O <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> my God,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-5">your wondrous deeds and your thoughts toward us;</span></span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-5">none can compare with you.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-5">Were I to proclaim and tell of them,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-5">they would be more than can be counted.</span></span></div>
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<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-5"></span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-40-6" id="en-NRSVCE-16602"><sup class="versenum">6 </sup>Sacrifice and offering you do not desire,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-6">but you have given me an open ear.<sup class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NRSVCE-16602b" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NRSVCE-16602b" title="See footnote b">b</a>]">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+40&version=NRSVCE#fen-NRSVCE-16602b" title="See footnote b">b</a>]</sup></span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-6">Burnt offering and sin offering</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-6">you have not required.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-7" id="en-NRSVCE-16603"><sup class="versenum">7 </sup>Then I said, “Here I am;</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-7">in the scroll of the book it is written of me.<sup class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NRSVCE-16603c" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NRSVCE-16603c" title="See footnote c">c</a>]">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+40&version=NRSVCE#fen-NRSVCE-16603c" title="See footnote c">c</a>]</sup></span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-8" id="en-NRSVCE-16604"><sup class="versenum">8 </sup>I delight to do your will, O my God;</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-8">your law is within my heart.”</span></span></div>
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<div class="poetry top-1">
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<span class="text Ps-40-9" id="en-NRSVCE-16605"><sup class="versenum">9 </sup>I have told the glad news of deliverance</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-9">in the great congregation;</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-9">see, I have not restrained my lips,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-9">as you know, O <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-10" id="en-NRSVCE-16606"><sup class="versenum">10 </sup>I have not hidden your saving help within my heart,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-10">I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-10">I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-10">from the great congregation.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-40-11" id="en-NRSVCE-16607"><sup class="versenum">11 </sup>Do not, O <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, withhold</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-11">your mercy from me;</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-11">let your steadfast love and your faithfulness</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-11">keep me safe forever.</span></span></div>
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<span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-40-11"><span class="text Ps-40-12" id="en-NRSVCE-16608"><sup class="versenum">12 </sup>For evils have encompassed me</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-12">without number;</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-12">my iniquities have overtaken me,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-12">until I cannot see;</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-12">they are more than the hairs of my head,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-12">and my heart fails me.</span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-40-13" id="en-NRSVCE-16609"><sup class="versenum">13 </sup>Be pleased, O <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, to deliver me;</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-13">O <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>, make haste to help me.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-14" id="en-NRSVCE-16610"><sup class="versenum">14 </sup>Let all those be put to shame and confusion</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-14">who seek to snatch away my life;</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-14">let those be turned back and brought to dishonor</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-14">who desire my hurt.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-15" id="en-NRSVCE-16611"><sup class="versenum">15 </sup>Let those be appalled because of their shame</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-15">who say to me, “Aha, Aha!”</span></span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-40-16" id="en-NRSVCE-16612"><sup class="versenum">16 </sup>But may all who seek you</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-16">rejoice and be glad in you;</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-16">may those who love your salvation</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-16">say continually, “Great is the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>!”</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-17" id="en-NRSVCE-16613"><sup class="versenum">17 </sup>As for me, I am poor and needy,</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-17">but the Lord takes thought for me.</span></span><br /><span class="text Ps-40-17">You are my help and my deliverer;</span><br /><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Ps-40-17">do not delay, O my God.</span></span></div>
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laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-24959611782440713672015-03-18T19:42:00.002-05:002015-03-18T19:48:17.998-05:00I found the beautiful <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-5xAFgiQRo" target="_blank">Agnus Dei</a> which is <a href="http://laurazim-godwillprovide.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-rich-musical-beauty-of-lent.html" target="_blank">sung in our parish during Lent</a>. From Hans Leo Hassler's Missa Secunda, it is a lovely, introspective few moments of prayer. I wish we used it all year...but I suppose that would take some small bit away from the joy of hearing it for such a short time.<br />
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I was chatting with a friend late last week and told her that I was preparing my meds for the coming weeks. It occurred to me that she had no concept of what that entailed--in fact, for most people, "bead counting" bears no meaning whatsoever, unless one imagines jewelry or Rosary making or something along those lines. But that's what I'm doing. I took pictures to text to her. She was absolutely dumbstruck at how involved it is.<br />
<br />
I've been taking Cymbalta. It's an antidepressant which is also sometimes prescribed for the pain that comes with fibromyalgia. After being on it for 6 months, I had begun really not liking the <a href="http://www.drugs.com/sfx/cymbalta-side-effects.html" target="_blank">side effects</a>, and made the choice to go a different way to work on the pain I experience.<br />
<br />
The problem with that choice is that Cymbalta is darned near impossible to stop taking.<br />
<br />
You can't just stop. You can't even just taper down by reducing the dose. Lots of doctors think the way to help their patients stop taking Cymbalta is to tell them to take it every other day for a couple of weeks, and then go down a step, and take it every other day for a couple of more weeks, and then just stop.<br />
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Cymbalta has a half life of 12 hours. And the <a href="http://www.peoplespharmacy.com/2012/10/15/cymbalta-duloxetine-side-effects-withdrawal/" target="_blank">cold turkey withdrawal effects</a> are absolutely horrific.<br />
<br />
Nope. That's not an exaggeration. It's truly horrific.<br />
<br />
I started out on 30 mg each day, and within 2 months, I was taking 60 mg each day. That seems to be about average for timeline and dosage. And like I said, I was on it for six months. I had no idea what the withdrawal would be like--but when I ran out of my prescription, I thought, "I don't need to pick up the refill. I'm not really in need of this stuff anymore."<br />
<br />
That lasted for four days.<br />
<br />
By the end of four days, I thought I was going crazy from the outside in and back out again. I was nauseous, dizzy, my brain was in some sort of fog that felt like I was trying to think through unspun wool. And the worst parts: even just sitting, doing nothing, was excruciatingly painful, in addition to having "brain zaps" on a frequent basis. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I couldn't breathe. I was absolutely terrified. The nightmares were so real I was waking up drenched in sweat--and that was on the nights I could sleep. The headaches were blinding. My Darling ended up racing to the pharmacy and telling me: "We need to find another way to get you off of this stuff."<br />
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Cold turkey is not the way to get off of this poison. And the trouble with the way many doctors tell their patients to taper down is that it throws them into that same pattern of cold turkey withdrawal <i>every other day. </i>That's a real problem. And yet, the doctors do not seem to know the havoc which is wreaked on the minds and bodies of their patients by this awful medication.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.drugwatch.com/cymbalta/withdrawal-symptoms/" target="_blank">But the maker of the drug....they knew</a>. They knew and they did not share that information, and there are ongoing lawsuits addressing this issue.<br />
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The only safe way to get off of Cymbalta--or it's generic form, duloxetine--is what I mentioned above: <a href="http://www.cymbaltawithdrawal.com/topic/8311-bead-counting-how-to-do-it/" target="_blank">the bead counting method</a>.<br />
<br />
When My Darling retrieved my prescription, we found out that there had been something of a miscommunication. I was out of 60 mg refills, but I had remaining 30 mg refills. The pharmacist said I could get the next refill after 15 days rather than the 30 days it was "supposed" to be for.<br />
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Pharmacists. They get it. People forget how knowledgeable pharmacists are.<br />
<br />
I had already done a bit of searching--mostly at that point, I wanted confirmation that I wasn't going crazy--I wanted to know that I was not alone in what I was feeling because of the withdrawal effects.<br />
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Oh <i>boy,</i> was I not alone.<br />
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If you go to your favorite interweb search engine and type in "Cymbalta withdrawal side effects," you'll get a real quick education. <a href="http://www.bing.com/search?q=cymbalta+withdrawal+side+effects&qs=AS&sk=AS1&pq=cymbalta+withdrawal&sc=8-19&sp=2&cvid=7a812b443b6942a5b0839e045fce983f&FORM=QBLH&ghc=1" target="_blank">And it's not a pretty one</a>.<br />
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I spoke with the PA I've been blessed to see and he was fully supportive of my need to get off of this drug. The doctor I've been assigned...not so much. More on that later though. <br />
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So the bead counting.....here's the scoop. Inside each capsule are tiny little beads. There are either hundreds that are the size of nonpareils (those tiny little multi-colored bead-like cookie sprinkles) or several that are the size of dragees (the bigger silver or gold bead-like cookie decorations). If they're the larger sort of beads, then the unfortunate individual needing to taper down has to contact a compounding pharmacy in order to do so safely.<br />
<br />
But the tiny ones? Those are relatively "easy" as it goes. In my generic 30 mg capsules, there are 250 beads. Two hundred fifty. I know this because I removed six random capsules and counted. every. single. bead. in each one. And being on 60 mg each day, that meant I was taking 500 beads per dose. After doing some extensive reading (like, <i>solid hours</i> of reading each day over several days), I concluded that based on my dose and the length of time I'd been taking it, I was probably safe doing a relatively aggressive taper. I decided I could safely remove 11 beads the first day, 22 beads the second day, 33 beads the third day, 44 beads the fourth day, and so on, increasing the amount removed by an additional 11 beads each day. All of my reading told me that if I began to feel the negative effects of withdrawal, I could absolutely hold steady where I was until those effects faded, how ever long that might take. The normal effects? The ones that you just have to learn to cope with? Intense muscle and joint aches. Insomnia. Vivid, strange dreams. Equally vivid nightmares. Headaches. Mild brain zaps. Mental fog. Increased anxiety. Panic attacks. Those things are my constant companions.<br />
<br />
It took me about 5 weeks to get down to one capsule. I spent a few hours one night removing the beads from each capsule until
I got more than half way through, then began removing all of the beads
and counting out what to put back into the capsules. And I saved the
beads I removed in a plastic baggie. It actually went pretty smoothly. The insomnia is killer, but my anxiety has been minimal. The aches....I really thought I would get used to them, but they're really bad some nights. Doesn't make the insomnia any easier. <br />
<br />
In that second capsule, the day I got down to 117 beads left in the capsule, I started having some pretty bad withdrawal again. It coincided with my needing to be on antibiotics. Apparently the way antibiotics affect gut health also affects the way the body is able (or less able) to metabolize a chemical like Cymbalta. I ended up having to hold steady at 117 beads for an additional ten days.<br />
<br />
Last week, I was able to resume counting down. On one of the many nights I couldn't sleep, I finished up. I had pretty solid advice from my pharmacist (who also graciously supplied me with empty capsules so I could use up my saved beads, rather than filling another prescription) that I should be extra careful toward the end.<br />
<br />
Here's what my night's process looked like. First, I got everything I needed on my wooden lap desk.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5K1FTyV23BtmM0WlgAfF7KIJwez3Ld-wID99He0pjDSIKPzWCzvDsMnP1MxS80n9LwaRMasPaD3B_s-ZcuNGUIYyLwDEDsWqYje0DryPNqV06XWgMoXhSjqN0-NWw-PJZaDvmgc9R80H9/s1600/20150315_001806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5K1FTyV23BtmM0WlgAfF7KIJwez3Ld-wID99He0pjDSIKPzWCzvDsMnP1MxS80n9LwaRMasPaD3B_s-ZcuNGUIYyLwDEDsWqYje0DryPNqV06XWgMoXhSjqN0-NWw-PJZaDvmgc9R80H9/s1600/20150315_001806.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
I have my baggie of empty capsules, my multi-dose pill organizer, tweezers, two little glass dishes, paper and pen, and the all important beads of poison.<br />
<br />
I start out by counting out ten beads into the glass dish. This is what ten beads looks like, with the tip of my ballpoint pen next to them for reference.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnu_7oUbhGeIocPlCHopOZ538hB0_9-xnzF74r64uP00fCPgSY_rlv92g0IRqwyiPFvp3FH3n2BgYVVMiEj-mfZB0j3n6fd8rL3UZKZsaVnnG7k9I_vzCR4jGYcVJUntusXIiVvcRDoxy/s1600/20150315_001936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhnu_7oUbhGeIocPlCHopOZ538hB0_9-xnzF74r64uP00fCPgSY_rlv92g0IRqwyiPFvp3FH3n2BgYVVMiEj-mfZB0j3n6fd8rL3UZKZsaVnnG7k9I_vzCR4jGYcVJUntusXIiVvcRDoxy/s1600/20150315_001936.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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I count out loud--sort of. I listen to music in my earphones while I count so that I don't get distracted by outside noises. Then I make a mark on my piece of paper so that I know I've counted out ten.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiY8ew9refPk-pH8fN-dvdyijLViaAlDM20cpKgV-RRjHLz3u5MraIQ2et7ddt-unYSCSq_gAO1XB2Zemw2R213t_FqiBaGHFb6-JLSHePGite3J3NtLrEpZ8zvcym699lKDHa8UdGizk_/s1600/20150315_001835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiY8ew9refPk-pH8fN-dvdyijLViaAlDM20cpKgV-RRjHLz3u5MraIQ2et7ddt-unYSCSq_gAO1XB2Zemw2R213t_FqiBaGHFb6-JLSHePGite3J3NtLrEpZ8zvcym699lKDHa8UdGizk_/s1600/20150315_001835.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
This is the same piece of paper I used when I was counting out the 117 beads I was taking while on antibiotics. This time I was doing several days in a row: you can see the numerical progression. My first mark for the evening is beneath 106.<br />
<br />
This is what 50 beads looks like:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6h7QNjKJX3FFvaelDMp4mllCMY_AHa8ugQdrOSZbb8iZooYt3L4jjyXvG6uu_PHWiiWCc4zyuXJ5ffXKNyc8D02FGmTC96tFCETQAuvzStLZbZiR6e0Htb54RxWmomtBIARbn289G4a2/s1600/20150315_003003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6h7QNjKJX3FFvaelDMp4mllCMY_AHa8ugQdrOSZbb8iZooYt3L4jjyXvG6uu_PHWiiWCc4zyuXJ5ffXKNyc8D02FGmTC96tFCETQAuvzStLZbZiR6e0Htb54RxWmomtBIARbn289G4a2/s1600/20150315_003003.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It really doesn't look as sinister as it is. Evil hides in small places sometimes, I guess.<br />
<br />
Here's the whole 106:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51LT4XGLVaZtsmMz965JjJyzRyqG8noEoSNQ8QtWNx3qCclzWiR0hZZBWMyQdkLC2d0tSWaEFY8ZrPPNddCyWMMqX0Kj-sj31tHqJpwu0Au1qHn_kcOrYtjpRgH3z_RsP9fibp5_xe6Hk/s1600/20150315_003442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51LT4XGLVaZtsmMz965JjJyzRyqG8noEoSNQ8QtWNx3qCclzWiR0hZZBWMyQdkLC2d0tSWaEFY8ZrPPNddCyWMMqX0Kj-sj31tHqJpwu0Au1qHn_kcOrYtjpRgH3z_RsP9fibp5_xe6Hk/s1600/20150315_003442.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
Truly amazing.<br />
<br />
Even more amazing to me is the amount <i>left in the little dish</i> after I had counted out enough for THREE WEEKS:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YghidkTLqrGwUuNqYhF-i-yA2N2F-TSSKEBswLuJuk6y7dv4Of0tjlbICZy2j5Gxz-7ARkcCQWrzvLE9sjdXST9PDguYG5HC0Jymrj-INR2jj4h3vwQKs2jLm65-Zs2Fhj-a9IEIBHwa/s1600/20150315_012547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YghidkTLqrGwUuNqYhF-i-yA2N2F-TSSKEBswLuJuk6y7dv4Of0tjlbICZy2j5Gxz-7ARkcCQWrzvLE9sjdXST9PDguYG5HC0Jymrj-INR2jj4h3vwQKs2jLm65-Zs2Fhj-a9IEIBHwa/s1600/20150315_012547.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
I am so, so grateful that those things are not in my body.<br />
<br />
And this is what the dish along with the remaining beads in the baggie look like:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0PRLdYX65rgjVXhD9oJI4Pll-y5uA9-_DbcasBoGQT2_xPmIzq-o201bC3uaOCSs-HHbRXRfbl9jxFLgg-P8Ydlp_34V8JvpdSG-bKak0y6KhaU36NdPtaKU5wLIYFKY5TakGz6w1mE2/s1600/20150315_012743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH0PRLdYX65rgjVXhD9oJI4Pll-y5uA9-_DbcasBoGQT2_xPmIzq-o201bC3uaOCSs-HHbRXRfbl9jxFLgg-P8Ydlp_34V8JvpdSG-bKak0y6KhaU36NdPtaKU5wLIYFKY5TakGz6w1mE2/s1600/20150315_012743.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
And my little scrap of paper...I really slowed the taper down at the end, removing four, three or two some days and one on others.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1Oq-p5MgrzoTAezs3pSlWcm9b0OusDXjBBMFQAS7IStMmml6aASeNoNGSD-9om7MuDyjOSOqu-q4LcBX0k-4p28_7oySz9JB58RKb31XIwMTt2CmS0Us6IYQ5JZFayKvhGCxSpBkXTJD/s1600/20150315_012904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1Oq-p5MgrzoTAezs3pSlWcm9b0OusDXjBBMFQAS7IStMmml6aASeNoNGSD-9om7MuDyjOSOqu-q4LcBX0k-4p28_7oySz9JB58RKb31XIwMTt2CmS0Us6IYQ5JZFayKvhGCxSpBkXTJD/s1600/20150315_012904.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
I'm praying like mad that it continues to go smoothly, that I don't have to increase the number of beads in any of my capsules, and that I'm done counting for good. I still have about 70 empty capsules left, along with those hundreds of beads...so if I need to tweak as I go, I certainly can.<br />
<br />
I'm also thankful that I at least have access to the medication I currently need. There are so many people who've had to go cold turkey off of this stuff because they completely lose their insurance or prescription coverage.<br />
<br />
Please join me in prayer this evening for those who need medications that they cannot afford or have no access to.<br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
Please also join me in prayer this evening for the Spader family, especially Tony and Stephanie, and their dear, sweet daughter Rebekah.<br />
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laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-15769145935211154852015-03-09T21:27:00.001-05:002015-03-09T21:27:30.653-05:00Shower of Roses giveawayThere is a lovely Catholic blog called <a href="http://showerofroses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Shower of Roses</a>.<br />
<br />
This week, the author has compiled an incredible list of Eastertide products and resources, and she's also put together a beautiful collection of things which are being drawn for in a <a href="http://showerofroses.blogspot.com/2015/03/100-easter-basket-stuffers-catholic.html" target="_blank">giveaway</a>.<br />
<br />
Go on over and visit. The way to get entries into the drawing is to go to each of the links, and then verify that have done so. There are etsy shops, retail sites, Facebook pages galore (YES, please clutter my news feed with Catholic goodies!), and a few other odds and ends. <br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
Speaking of social media, I've decided that there is enough going on in my life here at home that I actually kind of need the outside link to the world.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing: in a typical week, I leave my house once. Definitely once. Mass on Sundays. Before Mass, I rehearse the week's music with the choir and maybe a little bit of next week's music, too. After Mass, I stand in the narthex with lots of other people and try really hard to give my attention to at least one dear friend for more than 2 minutes. Usually, I end up sitting with Honey Bee on one of the two stretches of pews to give her a little milkies.<br />
<br />
I don't get to go to choir rehearsal. Rehearsals are on Thursday nights. Frog works most weeknights. Pickle and Reepicheep are in the school musical, and have rehearsals on Thursday nights. It's a good thing I have an incredibly gracious choir director who lets me sing with the choir even though I am not able to be at rehearsals.<br />
<br />
Date nights used to be a regular thing, but with the increasing number of musical practices (impending performance and all that) and the Frog's evening job, there just isn't anyone to watch the four littles. We don't do babysitters--they're scarce, I'm not terribly trusting, and our budget is <i>very</i> limited.<br />
<br />
So......social media is back in. There are Mamas there. There are people with fibromyalgia there. There are Catholics there. There are a huge number of priests and seminarians there, and even several religious sisters. It's not an entirely bad place to be.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://laurazim-godwillprovide.blogspot.com/2015/03/weve-been-hit.html" target="_blank">This last week</a>, especially, was not one of my favorite. For about a week preceding, there was a cough going around the family, and then my Honey Bee popped a fever. It topped out at 103.5 under her arm, and I felt solidly good about medicating that fever. (I am one of those Mamas who doesn't reach for the meds immediately: until it gets to be about 101 or a little above, I would rather let it do what it's supposed to do. Tepid baths and cool cloths are great for comfort. Obviously, if one of my little ones is in pain, I do what's necessary for comfort.)<br />
<br />
Hence the visit to urgent care (because the clinic could not get us in for a few days, even though I said, "My littlest one has an ear infection, and I think my eldest has a scratched cornea."). Five hours. Six of us seen. Lots of meds being juggled. And we're on the upswing now, thanks be to God!<br />
<br />
But when a Mama's buried beneath a pile of coughing babies, Mama sometimes needs to be able to connect with other Mamas who know just what that's like. And those Mamas are there on the social media, the facebook, the place where we meet people on a regular basis whom we might not ever meet in person. It's an interesting time in which we live...today I'm glad for the facebook.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-70842356030628420872015-03-05T02:41:00.000-06:002015-03-05T02:41:08.938-06:00The rich musical beauty of LentFor years, we attended a parish where the music during Lent was sparse and nearly austere. It was like being in the desert for the senses; the water of the Holy Water fonts was replaced with sand, no incense was used (well, to be fair, no incense was *ever* used in that parish...), and there was very, very little singing.<br />
<br />
The parish we attend now is not that way. Not at all.<br />
<br />
I am so grateful.<br />
<br />
Lent is enough of a desert. We are mindful moreso of our eat and drink. We practice personal sacrifice and mortification. We give more than usual, and hopefully until it hurts.<br />
<br />
And the liturgical beauty is incredibly, incredibly rich.<br />
<br />
The Kyrie is chanted <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBoEf3cqMRo" target="_blank">like this</a>. The men intone (sing first) the Kyrie, then the people. Then the women sing the Christi Eleison, and then the people. Then the men again, and then the people. It's beautiful, and our whole parish sings with great fervor.<br />
<br />
The Credo is chanted <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmMmkfK93co" target="_blank">like this</a>. And yeah, it totally adds to the length of Mass. By an entire five minutes. And we like it!!<br />
<br />
We always have a beautiful choral anthem: this past Sunday, we sang <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AI9P6HoiJy8" target="_blank">Morten Lauridson's O Nata Lux</a>. The week before, we sang one of the choruses from Handel's Messiah.<br />
<br />
The Mass parts are chanted as well. And the Pater Noster--the Our Father--is also chanted, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhZBj1Runp8" target="_blank">like this</a>.<br />
<br />
And if I can put my hands on a link for the stunning choral Agnus Dei that we sing during Lent, I'll post that link here as well.<br />
<br />
I cannot for the life of me think how in the world, with such a musical feast before our souls, how one would choose to go without. There are surely enough sufferings to be had. To have a taste of Heaven at the Mass...well, isn't that the point?laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-53814540717579700732015-03-04T16:27:00.002-06:002015-03-04T16:27:41.443-06:00We've been hit!It's not a good time to visit my house.<br />
<br />
Bronchitis: 4 of us (me, Squash, GinGin, and Honey Bee).<br />
Ear infections: 3 (one double for my Honey Bee and one for Cuppie).<br />
Tonsilitis: Cuppie.<br />
Sinus infection: me.<br />
<br />
I've rarely had to juggle so many meds for so many in my family.<br />
<br />
Prayer request: the health of my family, and most especially the health of all those dealing with much more miserable and serious health issues than ours.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-33824738368696922402015-03-02T21:47:00.001-06:002015-03-02T21:47:23.849-06:00I fell in love this weekend.I have three albums by the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of Apostles. Of late, my little Honey Bee has been drifting off to sleep to the dulcet tones of the sisters as they sing and chant on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lent-Ephesus-Benedictines-Queen-Apostles/dp/B00HAH7HG6/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1425348036&sr=8-2&keywords=Easter+at+Ephesus" target="_blank">Lent At Ephesus</a>, and I also have <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Advent-Ephesus-Benedictines-Queen-Apostles/dp/B009UECNXO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425348124&sr=8-1&keywords=Advent+at+Ephesus" target="_blank">Advent </a>and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Angels-Saints-Ephesus-Benedictines-Apostles/dp/B00C6705WI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425348210&sr=8-1&keywords=Angels+and+Saints+at+Ephesus" target="_blank">Angels and Saints</a>.<br />
<br />
I've been listening to the beautiful music night after night, knowing much of the music, and not knowing plenty.<br />
<br />
So the other night, I grabbed the cover insert from the CD case and took a look while I listened. I happened to be on Track 12, which is the Tartini Stabat Mater. I'd heard the Latin text before, but had not really taken the time to see what it meant, nor why it was written.<br />
<br />Whoa. Blown away.<br />
<br />
In some aspects, I'm so much my faith and so much my humanity. This, I suppose, was a humbling moment of humanity.<br />
<br />
This beautiful sequence was written in the 13th century and is meant to be sung as a meditation between the Stations of the Cross.<br />
<br />
This is the translation found in the booklet:<br />
<br />
The sorrowful Mother stood<br />
weeping beside the Cross, while her<br />
Son hung thereon.<br />
<br />
A sword pierced her sighing,<br />
compassionate,<br />
and grief-stricken soul.<br />
<br />
O how sad and how afflicted<br />
was that Blessed Mother<br />
of the Only Begotten!<br />
<br />
How she grieved and suffered,<br />
that loving Mother, when she beheld the pains of<br />
her glorious Son.<br />
<br />
Who is there that would not weep,<br />
if he should behold the Mother of Christ in such<br />
distress?<br />
<br />
Who could refrain from grieving,<br />
if he should contemplate the Mother of Christ<br />
suffering with her Son?<br />
<br />
For the sins of His own nation,<br />
she saw Jesus in torments<br />
and subjected to stripes.<br />
<br />
She beheld her sweet Son<br />
dying, abandoned,<br />
until He yielded up the ghost.<br />
<br />
Ah, Mother, fount of love,<br />
make me feel the force of grief,<br />
make me weep with thee. <br />
<br />
Make my heart burn with love<br />
for Christ God that I<br />
may be pleasing to Him.<br />
<br />
Holy Mother, mayest thou bring it to pass that the<br />
wounds of the Crucified be deeply impressed<br />
upon my heart.<br />
<br />
Share with me the sufferings<br />
of thy wounded Son,<br />
who thus deigned to suffer for me.<br />
<br />Grant that I may be wounded with His wounds,<br />
that I may be inebriated with the Cross and with<br />
the Blood of they Son.<br />
<br />
May I be defended by thee<br />
on the day of judgment, O Virgin,<br />
lest I go down to be burned.<br />
<br />
When, O Christ, the hour has come for me to<br />
depart hence, grant that through Thy Mother I may<br />
obtain the palm of victory.<br />
<br />
When my body dies,<br />
grant that my soul receive<br />
the glory of Paradise. Amen<br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
When I read this text while hearing the sisters sing, I could not help but weep. Give it a listen: I bet you will, too.<br />
<br />
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br />
<br />
Prayers answered:<br />
The woman whom I mentioned in an earlier post, named Virgina, has been rescued. <a href="http://host.madison.com/wsj/news/local/mother-of-priest-in-madison-catholic-diocese-rescued-after-kidnapping/article_df46e5d8-f892-5321-af74-de960c6b088b.html" target="_blank">Read the details here</a>. I would loved to have named my friend, Fr. Paul Arinze, in my earlier post, but because of the possibility of extortion, the diocese asked for a media silence until the situation was resolved. We heard about Mrs. Arinze's abduction at Mass the first Sunday of Lent, and within one week, we then heard of her rescue. Thanks be to God!!!laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-61105308240137427122015-02-26T12:35:00.001-06:002015-02-27T14:00:31.703-06:00Thursday thoughtsI've found it rather refreshing to be away from the facebook thing over the past week. Though it wasn't specifically asked of me by Fr. Eric, I decided that a fast from something I spent a lot of time looking at was a good idea. I do miss the interaction with my friends. Facebook connects Mamas like me, who are home all day to school and raise up our families, with the outside world. The added factor of living a fair distance from the main action means that I frequently feel isolated and lonesome. I know there are other Mamas out there who will know just what I mean. Although I am surrounded by my babies, I long for the conversation and company of other adult people, mostly other women. I need the connection of hearts and souls that comes with the bond between women.<br />
<br />
It's more challenging than one might think. Trading child-minding with other Mamas is a good idea, but it falls more difficult for me. My anxiety sometimes makes it difficult for me to prepare to leave the house, even for things I ought to look forward to. And if it's a flare day for my fibro pain or my back, leaving the house can sometimes prove nearly impossible. Sounds like a lame couple of excuses, I know, but it's what's put before me.<br />
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I continue to pray for so many friends. I also continue to pray about just how much I can truly write here. There are things which have happened that need to be thought out carefully and processed fully in my heart, but they are things which affect other people. It's not always up to me what I can put down in my little space here. Please pray for me in this.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-17986991658360732142015-02-23T11:54:00.000-06:002015-02-23T11:54:21.540-06:00To ask for sufferingOver the past couple of years, I've been praying for the grace to suffer well, as Fr. Eric says. The spiritual work of mercy calls it "bearing wrongs patiently." In addition to humility and patience, forbearance is what I struggle with most.<br />
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There's been plenty of opportunity, some of which I'll write about here, and some of which I just need to allow to rest in my heart.<br />
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I've found myself praying to ask for more opportunities to bear gracefully the challenges of life.<br />
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It seems that those around me are being placed in my life so that I have someone other than myself to pray for though.<br />
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I have a classmate who's fighting breast cancer. She's one of the sweetest, most selfless people I know. She has a beautiful family and a love for Jesus which inspires everyone around her. Please pray for Jill.<br />
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I have another friend who so recently buried her husband. He was diagnosed with cancer and died not even a month later. He fought every second with amazing strength and grace and faith, always with a smile and a laugh, always with a word of encouragement for everyone around him. His name was Paul. Please pray for the peaceful repose of Paul's soul. His beautiful wife is due any day now with their sixth child. Sadly, babies four and five, twins, were lost to miscarriage last spring. The joy of learning they were expecting again was radiant in both of them, along with their three little ones. Now, this Mama and her babies are beginning to find ground beneath their feet again. Please <a href="http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/-100k-for-paul-s-35th-birthday-/283582" target="_blank">pray for Annie and their children.</a><br />
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My Darling has such a big family: his mom was one of fourteen children. This year on Ash Wednesday, one of his uncles died very suddenly. He was only 57 years old. He leaves behind a lovely family--his beautiful wife, four children, and a passel of grandchildren. Today we will attend his funeral. Please pray for the peaceful repose of Ray's soul. Please pray for his family.<br />
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We were told some very upsetting news at Mass yesterday: the mother of one of our dear priests was kidnapped. Virginia lives in Nigeria. The note left behind says that a ransom will be demanded for her release. Please pray for Virginia.<br />
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There is so much to pray for, so many souls to love. I thank you for joining me in prayer for those in my life.<br />
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There are joyful things in life, too! Since Wednesday was Squash's birthday, and since GinGin's birthday falls at the very tail end of January (but we've been busybusybusy), we had a double birthday party yesterday. And My Darling treated me specially: since we have so many big parties for birthdays, with many family and friends celebrating with us, he bought me a big double cake pan. So yesterday's cake was lemon (requested by GinGin), and strawberry (requested by Squash)--two cakes, one pan, batters swirled together to make a delicious strawberry-lemonade cake. We had six cousins, three uncles, three aunts, two Grandmas, and a Grandpa here to party with us. It was great!<br />
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This is our Birthday Season. It kind of tickles my Catholic funny bone a little bit that we have so many Lenten birthdays in our family. Squash's doesn't always fall during Lent, but this year of course it was on Ash Wednesday. Frog's is almost always during Lent, though usually closer to the beginning. My Darling's is next, just 11 days after the Frog. And Pickle will have his second Holy Week birthday this year. I guess God has quite a sense of humor!<br />
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The book I'm reading, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Face-God-Rediscovery-True-Jesus/dp/1586175157/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424713930&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Face+of+God+Paul+Badde" target="_blank"><u>The Face of God</u></a>, is absolutely beautiful. I've always longed to visit holy Rome, but even moreso now, the more I learn especially, I find my desire shifting more toward Manoppello. laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-9591059305687702602015-02-20T14:35:00.002-06:002015-02-20T14:35:48.500-06:00Three Years Hence? Indeed it has been.I have begun this Lent by asking my spiritual director what he would ask me to focus on this year, in hopes of deepening my faith and my interior spiritual life. For my physical mortification, he has instructed me to refrain from the sweeter things--sweet drinks, delicious treats, that sort of thing--while not neglecting fruits (and he did say I could have a bit of honey in my tea or a sall amount of sugar in my oh-so-necessary coffee. It's actually more difficult for me than I had thought it would be: by default I often choose chocolate milk over white, or a bottle of orange Fanta rather than water. And I <i>love </i>a couple of spoonsful of hot chocolate mix in my coffee, topped off sometimes with French vanilla cream...and so now as ever, I must be deliberate in my decisions, and this can only be a good thing. I was thinking earlier about how much I <i>could</i> miss the sweet things. And considering my love for chocolate, I really could miss them terribly! But all the better for my soul, I do hope. I've wanted to eliminate refined sugar for a long time. It would be so good for me in so many ways...so I guess I ought to thank Fr. E for giving me this particular work.<br />
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His second assignment for me is to read a specific book. We had a conversation about one of the places he loves to visit in Italy, namely Manopello, where there is displayed the <a href="http://manoppello.eu/eng/index.php?go=bisior" target="_blank">image of Our Lord on mollusk silk</a>. The book to which he referred me is called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1586175157/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1" target="_blank">The Face of God: The Rediscovery of the True Face of Jesus</a> by Paul Badde. I began reading it just last night, and I'm definitely hooked. I love the tests that are done in attempts to authenticate things like this miraculous veil and the Tilma of St. Juan Diego from Guadalupe bearing the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I was tired last night, and so I am still reading through the first chapter. I hope to explore my understandings here.<br />
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I had forgotten what a refreshment it can be to come here to write. I've left so much of myself by the wayside in recent months, even years, and find that I need to begin peeling back the layers once again. It's astounding to me how drastically things can change in what seems an eternity whilst among the thorns of the valley, but in the grand scope even of temporal existence is truly a mere moment. The past two years, especially, have been for me nothing short of early Purgatory while walking the Earth. I dare to hope that some of the suffering here has done good for some poor soul on the other side of the veil of death. Indeed, I offer willingly my hours of purification in profound supplication for the souls of those closest to me. Don't ever forget the poor souls in Purgatory. Pray for them, offer sufferings for them, and remember that someday you may well be joining them and existing in the hope that after your purification is complete, you shall behold His Face.<br />
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Last year at this time, I was in hospital. I had been taken in because of back pain so severe I had been crawling about the house for a week. I hated to go. My babies needed me...but they needed me whole, and I was anything but. During my stay, I was diagnosed with degenerative disc disease and fibromyalgia--which I had suspected for years, but since the diagnosis tends to be one of exclusion and something of a collection and tidy binding of symptoms, and since I scarcely ever went to the doctor before my hospitalization, I had no official diagnosis in my chart.<br />
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Suffice it to say, this last year has found me in search of various remedies for the pains which ail me on a continuous basis. I have many good days. I have days where, although I have pain, it does not plague me so intensely. I have other days where I am glad to have a walker, or a cane, and I am <i>always</i> thankful to have my handicapped parking tag. <br />
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I have found a tremendous respect for physical therapists. My therapist is a gem--she's kind, she's funny, she's very knowledgeable, and she is enthusiastic about helping me strengthen my body so that I can live like a person rather than like a lump in a chair. So many days I feel like just a lump in a chair.<br />
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Of late, I have been reducing the dosage of Cymbalta. I had been taking 60 mg each day; by tomorrow, I will be taking 30 mg each day. It's a very slow process, because to wean from this medication is to create a maelstrom of withdrawal effects. It's awful. Honestly. The weaning process involves opening the capsules, counting the individual, tiny beads in each one, and removing a certain amount, increasing the amount removed each day. Those who've been studying the process recommend that for each year a person has been on the medication, it should take six months to wean off of it. I've only been on Cymbalta for six months, so I'm one of the lucky few who can take a larger number of beads out each day.<br />
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Math: not my friend. This process: math. Bah. Humbug.<br />
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I take two 30 mg. capsules each day. There are 250 beads in each capsule. I am removing eleven additional beads each day. This means that the weaning process will take me roughly 8 weeks by the time I'm done. And tomorrow is the half-way point, thanks be to God.<br />
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So far, my withdrawal effects have been minimal: I've had a couple of really overwhelming headaches, plenty of brain fog, and some tidal waves of emotion. Not always sadness or anxiety--but just emotion. And as ever, My Darling remains by my side, supporting me and understanding me and holding me so I don't become exhausted while treading this water.<br />
<br />laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-7086922196527143722015-02-19T16:13:00.002-06:002015-02-19T16:13:30.134-06:00It's been way too long. A couple of years, even. I need to resurrect my blog for so many reasons, not the least of which is to process the things that have happened in the last two or three years.<br />
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I know I left things open-ended and completely unresolved. I'll work on fixing that, too.<br />
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Yesterday was my Pickle boy's ninth birthday, and it was also Ash Wednesday. We had his cake and candles on Tuesday night so that we could share a nice treat and still properly honor the beginning of Lent in the spirit it's meant to encourage.<br />
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Today....well, today is the seventh anniversary of my losing Gabriel. My heart is so conflicted, as ever. It's a blessing to be Mama to a Saint, but it's also so hard to wait until I can see my baby. It's something I think about at every Mass.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-85806664810962850262012-02-23T12:56:00.002-06:002012-02-23T12:59:44.644-06:00Did you get your Ash to Mass?And Lent begins.<br />
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And there is so much to give penance for, so many sacrifices to be made.<br />
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My attempts at conscientious interior change has a lot to do with the way I parent my children, which of late has meant a louder voice, a slower step, and an angry spirit. I don't like that, and I want to change it.<br />
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You've seen, I'm sure, the ads for anti-depression or anti-anxiety medications that ask the questions about who depression hurts, where depression hurts, etc, and the answers begin with "every." "Everyone," "everywhere," etc.<br />
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It's true. I wonder, where I am concerned, if I <em>think</em> myself into the pain I experience from time to time, inferring discomfort where none actually is. I need to change my attitude about it, I think. And I know that my disposition affects everyone around me. Although I can reason about it, that doesn't mean my little ones can do the same. All they know is, "Gee, Mama's in a rotten mood today. Again." I need to change that, too.<br />
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So, this Lent, I do not intend to "give up" things that really make no true difference to anyone but <em>me</em>, because that doesn't do any good for anyone else, and it doesn't really even make a big difference for me--because at the end of Lent, I would just go back to my old ways, and what kind of sacrifice is that? I want a sacrifice that will have lasting meaning. Giving up chocolate or soda or whatever doesn't have lasting meaning.<br />
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Instead, I propose a true change in spirit. I need to make an intentional effort to change from within, and that means beginning by altering my interior prayer habits.<br />
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I am re-reading <u><a href="http://www.catholicfreeshipping.com/Products/cfs_hoforhoandot.html" target="_blank">Holiness for Housewives and Other Working Women</a></u>, and I am adding <u><a href="http://www.escrivaworks.org/book/the_way-contents.htm" target="_blank">The Way</a></u>.<br />
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As always, things move along with the addition. Though we moved out of our former bedroom in October, it remained as a sort of hallway between the old hallway and the new laundry room. The lack of privacy made it impractical for use as a bedroom in the interim, and so it was a place for cousin sleep-overs, storage, and collection of stuff.<br />
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But it's one of the last rooms needing work, and so My Darling has (finally!) turned his attention to it. I think he goes in seasons, like I do, with being in a funk. I saw it coming, and I wanted to help him swing around it, rather than slog through it...so I said, "Hey, could we start work on That Room?" And so he did.<br />
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There was a huge, beautiful, built-in dresser in that room. It was one of the things we were most excited about when we looked at this house twelve years ago. Fifteen drawers is a lot of storage!! Well, fifteen drawers is also a lot of <em>space</em> to fill up with things we don't need. So the first thing done in That Room was to remove the top of the dresser, cut down the supporting structure, and replace the top. This will serve as storage (but only six drawers, thankyouverymuch) and also a seating area. And since this is to become a bedroom for some girlies, we'll make a comfortable cushion to sit atop the lovely bench, and toss some squishy pillows on it, and let the girlies sprawl out and read or gab or sing or *<em>whatever</em>*. He added boxes above the bench, where we'll put two sconces for light. Dimmer switches will make them useful for nightlights if necessary, too. Here, you can see My Darling measuring for the sconce placement. See the finished bench? The wooden side was part of the original dresser. The man who built the thing was brilliant!<br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/ThatRoom001-1.jpg" /></a><br />
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The next order of business was building the end of the bench. Previously, there had been a wooden divider between dresser and closet--that whole wall had been devoted to clothing storage. When we created the upstairs opening between the existing house and the addition, we did it through that closet, eliminating half of it. For months, it was just a hole in the wall, and we could close it off by sliding the closet door shut. Eventually, My Darling framed in the actual door, put up drywall to shape the passageway, and added a door. Good thing, too, since the laundry room also houses the third flush toilet, thanks be to God! <br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/Movingtowardcompletion041-1.jpg" /></a><br />
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To go from a home with one bathroom to all of a sudden having <em>options</em>, well that's just about the biggest luxury I can think of.<br />
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Anyway, the end of the bench is now a little half-wall, and will be a nice place to lean against when sitting on the bench. See where the sconces will be?<br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/ThatRoom008-1.jpg" /></a><br />
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The new wall, the actual wall, which now divides the room from the old hallway, has been framed and drywalled now, too. It's so exciting to see this transformation--once again, to have thought something up and see it take shape, to know that that bedroom served us well for eleven years and will now be the place where our daughters will sleep and play and study and dream and gab and *<em>whatever*</em>, is a great thing to be able to reflect on.<br />
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Looking into the laundry room, through what once was the closet in our bedroom, now looks like this:<br />
<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/ThatRoom006-2.jpg" /></a><br />
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And speaking of studying, the gap between the wall and the half-wall will be a desk area. Ok, this was complete and total genius, if I do say so myself--<em>and</em> <em>I do.</em> I do!! When I found <a href="http://laurazim-godwillprovide.blogspot.com/2009/06/current-project.html" target="_blank">the smaller dresser</a> (for SEVEN DOLLARS, for Pete's sake!) which was stripped, refinished, and transformed into the sink for the laundry room, part of that process was cutting off the top of the dresser. I wasn't sure what was to become of that piece of walnut: should we put it on a piano hinge, attatch a swinging leg, and make a wall-mounted, fold-away table with it? Should I add legs to it and make a little stand-alone table with it? What would become of this beautiful piece of wood?? Well, <em>of course</em> it was meant to be a desk top. Didn't you know? <em>I</em> didn't know. But now I know! My Darling will fix this lovely piece of wood into the space between the two walls, build a bookshelf beneath it, install a floating shelf above it (which will house a couple of lights, of course!) and make a great place for studying. See? Genius! So in the photo above, you can see where the desk will go (imagine away the 5-gallon bucket of debris, if you would please), and to the right is the laundry room. If you were to turn further to the right, still, you would be looking down the old hallway. The bedroom door is on an angle.<br />
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My hope is that we can somehow use the remaining nine drawers and their framework either in the sun room or the basement. We <em>do</em> have things to store. And these drawers, having been crafted bya cabinet-maker, are really well-made. I do not intend to waste them!! And if it works out the way I am hoping it will, I can make another set of cushions and pillows, and have another bench...so it won't be wasted storage space. Woot!<br />
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I'm not sure about the timeline, but I'm guessing we'll be able to start painting That Room this weekend, and will hopefully be moving the bunkbeds into the room next week. I don't want to think too far ahead about it, because I know all too well the disappointment that comes with projecting a timeline on something like this, only to be held up by something or another. So I'm making up my mind ahead of time to remain flexible and as relaxed as possible. Saint Joseph, pray for me!!<br />
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Prayer Requests:<br />
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*Keep praying for C and V. Baby is not yet born, which is good. What the outcome will be, only our Father in Heaven knows. I know what I'm praying for though.<br />
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*Still praying for Joshua P. and his family, and for Rebekah and her family, too.<br />
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*Pray for all those affected by emotional or mental disorders, for all those in chronic pain, for all those lonely and forgotten, and for their families.<br />
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*Pray for expectant mothers, their babies, and their families.<br />
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*Pray for those terminally ill and their families and caregivers, especially when their primary caregivers are their family.<br />
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*I always keep anyone who might be reading in my prayers, too. If you want to leave a prayer intention, feel free to do so.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-28718989416390171782012-02-21T23:34:00.001-06:002012-02-21T23:44:06.612-06:00And today, we shall wash the diapers.I make no promises of regularity, because I don't like to break promises, and I've already done so too many times in this place.<br />
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And I really <em>do</em> need to wash diapers. But it's more like "tonight" than today. The diapers don't know the difference though.<br />
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It's been such an odd winter. So little snow, so little cold, so few days where it looks or feels like winter then, and no help for it. People keep muttering, "Yeah, but we'll get <em>socked</em> in the spring," but I don't think we will. If we could get one good snowstorm this year, I'd be happy with that. I think it's just a mild winter. Ho-hum. No snow-days. No blizzards. No hibernating.<br />
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Not like last year.<br />
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My Gingersnap has turned ONE. She is a year old, plus a few weeks. It's hard to believe, though I think back on what things were like around here a year ago, and I believe it all too well. It's been a year of many refinements, through the grace of God. It's awesome and wondrous and terrible and mystifying all wrapped up into a year's time. Some of the lessons God intended for me, I believe I've come to terms with. Others have remained as elusive as a cloud.<br />
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I still experience brief, unpredictable bursts of intense pain in my side where my blood clot was/is, though the scan I had over the summer showed no reason to be alarmed about it. My vascular surgeon doctor was pleased with the progress. She told me that with clots the size mine was, they expect about 80% reduction, but that there will always be something there. I'm no longer on the blood thinner (which is such a funny name...it doesn't make the blood thinner, it makes it slippery--but they don't call it "blood slipperier". Too bad, too. I think it's funny.), thanks be to God. That mess ended in July. I was happy to see it go--no more fresh crop of bruises on a daily basis, just from existing. No more avoiding a glass of wine, should the notion strike (which isn't frequent, but it does happen from time to time...). Best of all, though, no more lab visits for blood draws for the INR test. I was over that dog and pony show. Pin cushion? Yeah, that's a tool in my sewing box. It no longer defines my arm.<br />
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So the Gingersnap is ONE. ONE!!! <em>ONE!!</em> I cannot even believe it! She is an entire year old. She crawls with amazing speed and agility. She has a gorgeous sense of humor, and loves to see everyone around her laugh at her little antics. She has a few words, and is learning new ones every day. She gets very upset with me if I do not Give Her The Milkies Right NOW and tell her to sign "milk" to me. She beats her little fist at my chest, tugs at my shirt, and whimpers like a sad puppy. Is it wrong that I find this not only adorable, but amusing?<br />
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Cuppie is THREE. But we don't say "three" around here. We say "flee." So Cuppie is FLEE. She has become Little Miss Independent, deciding, thankyouverymuch, that she is over wearing diapers or pull-ups or anything other than Princess Panties on her little rumpy. And that's all there is to that. Yes, really. She decided one day that she was going to wear panties, and so she did. She is dry overnight, she is dry all day, and in the course of the past 5 weeks of wearing them, she has had exactly three--oops: flee--accidents with wetting.<br />
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With poo, it's not quite the same story. That bit always takes a little longer.<br />
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I admit I am into bribery that way. When she began, she would get five "white chips"--so-called because she refused to call them "white chocolate chips." Everyone knows, after all, that there is not one iota of chocolate in white chocolate anyway. It's vanilla. So, white chips they are. So she would trot herself to the loo, do her business, and after the loooooooooong hand-washing ritual, she would count out her white chips: "One, two, flee, four, five!" and eat them up.<br />
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Once I remembered (DUH!) and bought the Tootsie Rolls, well that was all the motivation she needed for the Number Two to become her new goal. So she learned very quickly to run (RUN!) to the loo for poo, too, and the Tootsie Roll came out. But------we don't call them Tootsie Rolls. No. They are "Twitsie Lolls"!! (Of course they are!)<br />
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My Squash......he just turned SIX. Saturday was his birthday, and he was beyond excited to be turning six. I likened it to Winnie The Pooh--"And Now We Are Six"--and he was unimpressed.<br />
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He is reading. He loves Dick and Jane, just like my big kids did at his age, and he loves that he can now sit down with his books, open them, and make sense of what he sees on the page. It's one of my favorite things in the entire world--watching a little child decoding the written English language and realizing that the whole world has just shifted greatly in their favor....poetry, stories, ideas, Psalms--it's all of a sudden open to them, like the sunrise! What a blessing!!<br />
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My Squash has such a beautiful spirit and such a loving heart. He has a fondness for a girl named Annie. Not long back, I said to him, "Are you going to marry that Annie girl?" He said to me, "Probably." And then he grew quiet and thoughtful. After a minute or so, he said, "Well, unless I hear God tell me I need to be a priest. Then I can't marry Annie. But I could still <em>see</em> her."<br />
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I melted. I completely melted. This sweet boy knows that we need to be still and quiet and wait to hear what God has to tell us, what God wants from us, and what we need to do and be to fulfill His design for our lives. Thanks be to God!!<br />
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Reepicheep. Ahh.........Reepicheep.<br />
<br />
She is twelve. We're in the thick of it, she and I, in the part where it feels like she's running at a pace through the thick jungles of the Amazon, and I'm trying to keep sight of her, let alone keep up with her. This age has so far been the most difficult for me to parent my children through--especially the girls. I've found that when their bodies start to really take off and grow like crazy (at about 9) and through puberty, to the other side, it's fish or cut bait. It's so difficult to keep up with the emotional challenges, the outbursts of frustration and anger and emotion, the desire for more freedom coupled with the resistance to responsibility are just a huge obstacle for me as a Mom. I'm working my way through it--<em>we're</em> working <em>our</em> way through it--but it's a big jungle, and it's awfully darned hot in here.....I feel like the heroine of a movie, before she earns her heroine status. I'm slogging through the jungle, all hot and sweaty, with hair falling out of my ponytail and sticking to my forehead and cheeks...legs all scratched up, machete feeling reeeeeaaaaaallllllllyyyyyy heavy about now, barely able to swing it to clear my path, and all kinds of venomous creatures lurking about, just waiting for me to have to stop to take a breath.<br />
<br />
Yeah. It's like that.<br />
<br />
Now, having parented a girl through this already, I also know that I'm doing the right things, and that even though it's tremendously difficult, the rewards are even greater than the challenges. I know that if I can help Reepicheep navigate through the puzzle of hormonal swings and moods and interior struggle, that she and I will both come out of this not unscathed, but definitely stronger, both emotionally and spiritually. That is why I take a deep breath every morning before I wake her up, and continue to breathe as deeply as I can throughout the day. I pray every time I know I need to correct her. I search for reasons to praise her, no matter how small. I remind her how blessed we both are, especially that we can come and go as we need to, that we can put food on our table at every meal, that we have plentiful choices in the way we dress our bodies that keep us modestly covered and comfortably warm, that we can attend Mass daily if we want to without much effort at all, save for driving, and that we have a snug, warm, FULL home to live in. And I remind her that there are lots and lots of little extras that can be made to disappear if necessary (and sometimes, they do!). :)<br />
<br />
My Pickle is still thirteen; his birthday isn't until early spring. He is absolutely thriving at the Fabulous Catholic School where we are blessed to send our children. He struggled in the beginning, going from having been home schooled for four years to being in the classroom setting again, but he's been spending some time after school a couple of days each week with a tutor, and he is improving so greatly that it's actually astonishing! He's found a really good groove of time-management, for the most part, and has learned through natural consequences that his school work is <em>his</em> responsibility. I must say, it's an advantage sometimes to live 35 minutes from school. If he forgets something, there is no way I'm packing up my three little ones and the Reepicheep to bring it to him!! (I doubt I would if we lived in the same town as the school, anyway, but at least this way, there isn't even the temptation.) He's looking so forward to next year's cross country season, and is already running a couple of times a week. Because in this completely ODD winter, running is actually an option.<br />
<br />
There was a family who used to belong to our Parish whose eldest son was the head server, and I think they've switched to a parish closer to their home now. They've not been to Sunday Mass in a long time. I'm not sure what to think about it, but I do know that it means that Pickle is one of the older senior servers now, and he's really doing a great job shepherding some of the younger boys. I'm so proud of him! He's showing a maturity that is very gratifying to witness in my own son.<br />
<br />
Also, his voice is changing. I am a little fragile, emotionally, about that fact. I make him laugh at every possible opportunity, because I just cannot get enough of his ridiculous giggle, and I know that someday it will be gone. <em>*le sigh</em>*<br />
<br />
And the Frog.<br />
<br />
The Frog will be sixteen in just a few days. SIXTEEN! SIXTEEN???!!! WHAT?!<br />
<br />
There are all kinds of things that barrage my head about this. Sixteen is old enough to drive, when properly licensed. (She won't be just yet.) Sixteen is the age at which My Darling and I decided that, should a young man desire to court our daughter, and should he seek our permission--in person--and should we decide to grant him permission, we would allow her to be courted. Chaperoned, of course. In groups, of course. One on one, not so much.<br />
<br />
Sixteen is the age, it seems, when childhood is carefully folded, set into the Hope Chest, and looked back upon with wistful memories clouding the vision.<br />
<br />
I remember holding her when she was tiny, combing her impossibly curly hair and pulling it into pig tails for the first time. I remember her taking her first steps, in those old-fashioned white baby shoes--on her first birthday. I remember singing with her, dancing with her, playing tea party with her, hearing her read her first book ("Go Dog, GO!"), and watching her the first time she walked to school with the Pickle (I never let her walk alone).<br />
<br />
How, in Heaven's Name, can she be turning sixteen? Now I'm watching her dance with young men (MAN, can they swing dance!!), hearing her sing in the choir with me and at her private voice lessons, watching her put her hair in any manner of elegant or fun or frilly arrangements, running cross country, baking or cooking anything she fancies, and reading to her younger siblings.<br />
<br />
The lump in my throat is enormous. It hardly bears mentioning that she is better than half way through her sophomore year......just a little over two years and she'll be-----------------<br />
<br />
*sigh* ~~and *sigh* again.<br />
<br />
For now, she is my little Froggy, and she is here with me.<br />
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<br />
I'm working on me. Every day, every hour, I'm working on me.<br />
<br />
I still don't know where my heart is on the things that happened after my little Gingersnap was born. I have my moments when I am overwhelmed by the thought of being rushed to the hospital in agonizing pain, sure that I was going to die, and then learning how real a possibility that was. Looking into the sweet face of my tiny, tiny baby girl, I was thinking, "Will I ever see your face again? Will you grow up knowing me, or being told stories about what others remember about me?" Even now, it's hard to reconcile it in my heart.<br />
<br />
I had a lot of guilt to carry in the aftermath. I felt guilty that it happened at all. I felt guilty that I needed the help of others to do simple things for so long. I felt guilty that My Darling had to ferry me about, because there was no one else to do it. I felt guilty that my medication stifled my milk and forced me into choosing formula supplementation, even though it was only for a few months. I felt guilty that I didn't get thank you notes written and sent out, or that I got some of them written and not others, or that I lost track of the ones I had written, so I just stopped, even though I never stopped being grateful for the people who helped me and my family, and I told them so every single time I saw them over the year since. I felt guilty that I felt guilty about things that were completely out of my control, were not my choice, were not predicable or preventable, and will probably never happen again. I felt guilty that I didn't think my faith was up to snuff when the chips were down.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I still <em>do</em> feel guilty.<br />
<br />
Part of my Lent will be to finish here. To complete my story, to get it out, to hammer it until it's shiny and smooth instead of a lump in the pit of my gut. I'm asking God to refine me and help me to stop hanging on to this albatross of guilt and shame.<br />
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PRAYER REQUESTS, and the first one is urgent:<br />
<br />
Dear friends of mine--a couple, V and C. V is pregnant with their sixth baby, and has just made it to 23 weeks. Twenty-three. Barely over half-way. Last week, she started bleeding and cramping, so they went to hospital. They were sent home after a while, but returned soon after. The scan showed fluid in Baby's abdomen. She's been in hospital ever since, and today they induced her. I've not heard an update yet. She had lost a lot of blood, and very early this morning she was given a blood transfusion, finishing up about 9:00. By this afternoon, she had lost another 2 units of blood, and between that and almost no amniotic fluid, they needed to deliver her. They are in an amazing hospital, where other friends of ours delivered a baby at not quite 24 weeks--that baby's birthday is tomorrow, and he's turning three. That is a tremendous factor in their favor. The fluid, though, in V's baby's abdomen, is a factor <em>not</em> in their favor. It decreases the odds of survival for the baby to under 10%. So please pray--pray for God's will, for peace in their hearts, for the teams of doctors and nurses who are caring for this family, and for the children who are waiting at home for their Mama to return to them.<br />
<br />
God's ways are the best ways, even when it hurts like heck.<br />
<br />
*Pray for other friends of ours who were very uncertain about their pregnancy until the scan this morning showed things to be fine. They suffered a miscarriage about 6 months ago, and so are understandably anxious about this little one. Saint Padre Pio says, "Pray, Hope, and Don't Worry." Well, he's the saint, so I reckon he knows.<br />
<br />
So many prayers to lift up, and God knows what they are even when I don't.<br />
<br />
*Pray for Rebekah, who is 6 and will be receiving a bone marrow transplant from her little sister, Theresa, who is 2. Rebekah is BRAVE--her Mama says, "Broken, brave, and blessed." Rebekah is the fourth of the five children in their family. She's quite an inspiration!<br />
<br />
Know of my prayers for your intentions, too.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-18040471022979301862011-10-10T12:52:00.000-05:002011-10-10T12:52:48.178-05:00Progress here, progress there, a little progress everywhere...The carpet has been installed in the new master bedroom. There's still a bit of trim needing to be put up--there are no baseboards yet, and the door trim needs to be nailed up. One of the window frames needs to be painted, and a little bit of paint here and there on the walls needs to be touched up. The handles on the doors haven't been changed, and in fact, the doors don't stay closed at this point.<br />
<br />
But--I absolutely could not wait. We moved the bed in on Thursday, thanks be to God!<br />
<br />
Before My Darling picked up Frog and Pickle from cross country on Thursday afternoon and returned home with them, I had moved the bedside tables and lamps, my striped chair and footstool/ottoman, Gingersnap's little bed, and all of the bedding. We were able to move the bed easily, and I very soon had it made up.<br />
<br />
Over the weekend, we moved the credenza into place, hung pictures, and brought in the little things that make it the quiet, welcoming, relaxing place I need it to be.<br />
<br />
There are still a few things that need to be moved, but for now, I am very pleased. Five years is a long time to wait and plan and work toward a specific goal!<br />
<br />
One thing I've been thoroughly enjoying is the decision-making during shifting things into the new room. What things do I truly need/use/want/enjoy? What things have I been holding onto out of habit, sense of guilt or obligation, or greed? What things could benefit someone else, or be used to make someone else happy as a gift? I'm trying to simplify, to not hang onto the false need of having something in every corner, nook and cranny. We are so blessed--blessed in abundance, for Pete's sake, and it's a fine line between abundance and excess. I don't want this beautiful room to be turned into a storage unit, so I'm taking the time now to discard junk, donate things I don't need, and remember to give thanks for the things we have.<br />
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This past Saturday was the last cross country race of the season. The kids were satisfied with their performances--which were a bit slower than the week before, because the week before it was cold (which is perfect for runners), and Saturday was hot. The team has a banquet coming up on Friday, where they will receive rewards and recognition. It's been an incredible thing to watch my children learn, improve, meet and surpass goals, and constantly challenge themselves. It's been difficult in some respects--watching them give every ounce of effort they can and sprint at the end toward the finish line, dripping with the sweat of their effort is bittersweet.<br />
<br />
One of my favorite things about these races, though, is seeing the kids who don't finish in 17 minutes or 20 minutes or whatever is the average. The kids who take 30 or 35 or even 40 minutes, but stick it out and still finish the race, are the ones that really get me teared up. Those kids are pillars of the virtue of perseverance. They're not in fantastic shape, and they cross the finish line after everyone has left the course sidelines. Their teammates have already had their shoes off and their water bottles refilled again and again. But when they come toward the finish line, everyone gathers again by the chute and hollers and whistles and claps and cheers for them as they finish! And that's their goal--not to shave of 10 seconds from last week's time, but just to <em>finish</em>, for Pete's sake! It's incredibly humbling. It's also a reminder that I don't even have the guts to start one of those races...<br />
<br />
...until now?<br />
<br />
At some of the events, after the various heats have been run, and while the time judges are tallying the results, there is an open race--open to coaches, parents, spectators, basically whoever wants to run--and some of us Mamas decided that we want to run next year.<br />
<br />
This is a very silly thing for me to commit to. I cannot run. I do not run. I walk very quickly when I need to get somewhere fast, but I do not run. I used to run. I used to do lots of crazy things. But I am in no shape to run. Especially not the course in question: it's fraught with hills, and is definitely among the more challenging of the courses for the year. There is no way I can do this. I don't have the guts to even stand behind the start line.<br />
<br />
But that's kind of the point--I'm not in good shape at all. In fact, I'm not in any kind of shape. I'm just kind of....here. That's not good. I'm tired, I'm sluggish, and Sloth has gotten hold of my ankle and is yanking with strength. Pile on the guilt factor, and it's just not a pretty picture.<br />
<br />
So I spent $10 and bought the <a href="http://www.google.com/products/catalog?hl=en&cp=2&gs_id=10&xhr=t&q=30+day+shred&qe=MzAgRGF5IFNocmVk&qesig=HO7SXXp9WTbBPrmfXB8l-w&pkc=AFgZ2tn5CuG-DXuIXiPe3LRR8022pxGV9t1Bu0eviQdoAStjyBR3gpmoGTWFDHoWaQimwnueugjAsVkH8zugbIAKPEDTETqwaQ&rlz=1R2SUNA_enUS331&biw=1280&bih=598&gs_upl=&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.,cf.osb&wrapid=tljp1318267453421014&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=shop&cid=13957019723249466887&sa=X&ei=OyqTTr30KI_hsQLPt8jwCw&sqi=2&ved=0CF8Q8wIwAQ#">30 Day Shred</a> video. I've heard good things about from people I actually know. I've seen some tremendous results from those same people, and I'm hoping that it will help me, too. I don't know how much I weigh, because we don't have a scale. But I do know that I could stand to lose some inches just about everywhere. I figure I can hack a 22 minute workout--at least time-wise!--and hopefully it will give me the boost I need.<br />
<br />
I definitely need the endorphin boost that I know exercise will provide, too. Even if my body aches and my muscles scream in protest, if my moods improve, it'll be worth it.<br />
<br />
And so, as soon as my little ones are asleep for Quiet Time, I'll open the box that's had me trembling since Wednesday, and see what I can do. I might even do "before and after" pictures. I'll wait to post those though....<br />
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<br />
Prayer requests:<br />
<br />
*In thanksgiving for the Ordination to Transitional Deaconate for Deacon Mark! Thanks be to God!!<br />
<br />
*For the conversion of our neighbors, who increasingly call us to patience and forbearance. Thank the Lord we have someone who draws out virtuous effort on our part, all for our sanctification.<br />
<br />
*For Joshua P. who is desiring to feel the warm embrace of Jesus as he struggles with terminal conditions, and for his family, especially his mother, who so desperately wants to see her son's suffering end...even though it means she will bury him.<br />
<br />
*In thanksgiving for the joyful news of our dear friends, who find themselves preparing to welcome Baby Number 11--with eight safely in their home and two little Saints praying for them in Heaven.<br />
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*For a renewed effort to promote respect for all human life, from conception to natural death, during this month of October (Respect Life Month).<br />
<br />
*For a renewed passion for Our Lady's beautiful prayer of the Rosary, and for many souls to be brought nearer to her Son, which is all she desires for us...<br />
<br />
*For a very specific intention, dear to my heart, which is known to the Holy Spirit and does not need to be given in detail here. He knows.<br />
<br />
I thank you graciously for your prayers on my behalf and for those I love and who are dear to me, and I bring to Our Lord all of the prayers of your hearts, too.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-41233670682484063962011-10-04T08:04:00.000-05:002011-10-04T08:04:05.929-05:00For everything there is a seasonI'm trying to ease back into the early morning rise routine. It's actually been easier than I expected it would be, given that nights can be unpredictable and filled with many moments of staring at the clock, wondering when my little Gingersnap will allow sleep to be victorious. What I've discovered, though, is that the waking up and getting up part is not the challenge: it's <em>staying awake through the afternoon</em> that's giving me fits.<br />
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This Wednesday will usher me into my 38th year, thanks be to God. (Or for a more common way of putting it, I'll be 37, for Pete's sake.) I thought I'd feel older somehow, though I'm not certain what that means anymore. I do remember carrying my little Squash and really feeling like I could never have another baby--he was <em>definitely</em> my last baby!! HA! And look what God <em>really</em> had planned!<br />
<br />
I have found that with each passing year I find more joy in this season. The stunning colors peeking from every possible crevace absolutely thrill me in a smiliar way I once felt about fireworks. And how could it not? The carpets of muted golds and browns of the fields fairly glow when the sun hits them on the hills. The velvety red of the sumac is my favorite, but the surprising colors on some of the trees are astounding. Japanese maple leaves that turn purple at the edges and simmer into a golden syrup toward the center...the plum in my very own front yard which darkens and darkens, from a deep violet to nearly black...the brilliant gold of the birch leaves...the red of the ivy vines, climbing everything in sight and providing such an abundant variety of reds (and I know they're invasive and choking, but they are still quite lovely)...and the noble oak--dropping acorns and a veritable carpet of oranges, browns and persimmony orange leaves--which seasons such a scent into the air that it permeates every breath--how could anyone look upon these things and not be overtaken with praise and thanksgiving for the One who deems us worthy to behold them?<br />
<br />
The Saturday morning cross country races have meant that we, as a family, rise very early in order to drive our runners to their venues. And where we live, we go through very hilly country, providing incredible views. The early mornings these days always mean sunlight filtered through fog (except for the couple of rainy race days in there for good measure). It's been inspiring to have so many moments of such beauty before us.<br />
<br />
One particular morning as we drove toward the southeast, I was drawn into something of a meditation. There were layers and layers of fog settled over fields of corn, soybeans and wheat. The trees still have enough leaves on them to give a full silhouette, and the profiles of houses, barns and silos were prominent in some places, and obscured in others. The first layer was softened, as though peering through the screen of an open window. The next layer was like steam-covered glass. The next was even more obscured, like trying to look through tracing paper. And the next was like parchment.<br />
<br />
I thought how our souls see Heaven was so similar...we have an idea of what Heaven is--everyone has their own idea of what the Beatific Vision will truly be like. We see in our mind's eye what we <em>think</em> it will be. And as we learn more and more truth in what Holy Mother Church teaches us, we realize how far removed our ideal is, like the second and third layers. What it will actually be is so far obscured, like trying to peer through the thick layers of fog. We can sense the light through the parchment layer, but nothing can be clearly seen through these frail human eyes.<br />
<br />
God is good.<br />
<br />
Prayer intentions:<br />
<br />
Please keep My Darling's Grandma in prayer. She is old and tired, and some days would dearly love to go Home. God's ways are the best ways; His timing is always perfect.<br />
<br />
Please continue to pray for Joshua P. He has had some extraordinary days of energy and healing and feeling really good, but then contracted a cold...which can be devistating, or even deadly. Please continue to pray for miraculous healing, on whatever terms God wills for him, and for peace in the hearts of his family.<br />
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Please pray intently for our Holy Father, for our dear Bishop, and for an increase in vocations to the ordained and consecrated life.<br />
<br />
And I humbly beg for your prayers for my own needs and intentions.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-18114697083743321272011-09-29T11:14:00.000-05:002011-09-29T11:14:29.635-05:00Moving along...I keep neglecting my blog. I know this, and there's been no help for it save for me to put some strict limitations on other things that have kept me occupied in ways I perhaps should not be. Prudence, self control, and the other good virtues in which I seem to be lacking these days, have nudged my shoulder. <br />
This is a good thing.<br />
<br />
Interestingly, though, I seem to have lost the list of blogs I've been following all along--I'm not sure why this has happened. But I wonder if it's something tied to my inability to comment on any blogs as well. There has been a lot I've wanted to say in response to some excellent entries over the past few months, and every time I have attempted to do so, I'm hit with the "choose an account"--and when I do, nothing happens. It's as though I've no account and am thus unable to sign in at all.<br />
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Home schooling is going better these days. My little ones are loving their binders, which I've outfitted with plastic page protectors covering pages of letters, numbers, shapes, names, and words for them to trace or color or circle or outline. My Squash is reading, however haltingly, the short stories which begin with Dick and Jane and Sally and Spot and Puff and Tim...and of course, Mother and Father. It's what all of my big kids learned with, and Squash seems to really enjoy himself when he realizes he can recognize a word from a previous page. I love this stage!!<br />
<br />
Even Cuppie is enjoying tracing the things in her book, and naming the shapes and colors, and learning the letters in her name, and counting things all over the place. I was thrilled to find some math manipulatives in the dollar section at Target, and scooped up a bunch of different colored foam shapes for sorting, counting, adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, making patterns and so on. Cuppie and Squash have loved using them.<br />
<br />
And Reepicheep, as my last big kid at home, has been working on things like sketching, investigating botany, reading like a fiend, knitting, and writing stories. I know she'll learn whatever she needs to know as she needs to know it, so it's been a blessing just seeing her gravitate toward things which truly interest her.<br />
<br />
We're also working very hard toward temperance. I think it's the virtue left behind sometimes; it's almost as if it's expected for a "tween" to be sassy and short-tempered. What a perfect time to work even harder at holding one's tongue, carefully thinking before speaking and acting, and always with charity as our goal! It's definitely not without challenges, and I've found myself having to grit my teeth mightily more than once. We'll get there, though.<br />
<br />
My little Gingersnap grows at a pace. She has begun to get beyond even squunching (which some people call creeping, but we've always said "squunching") to <em>nearly</em> crawling. She's been saying "Mama" quite intentionally for weeks now, generally when she is not in my arms and wants to be. And I have on my hands my very first ever baby who fits into the size clothing which manufacturers deem age-appropriate: at not quite eight months old, she fits neatly into 6-9 month sizes. She's loving whatever we give her to eat, but only if she is allowed to feed herself.<br />
<br />
Having my two eldest both in school at the Wonderful Catholic School which we are so incredibly blessed to have available has been a true mixed blessing. On the wonderful side, they are learning so much from an incredible faculty! And the focus that is required, the self-discipline and time management--that's all definitely fantastic.<br />
<br />
They are also both running with the cross country team, and doing unbelievably well. I've always known that junior high boys are ridiculously fast--like fleas, really. But I had no idea how, with some intense coaching and conditioning, that my Pickle boy could be hearing things like, "You have the ability to become a truly great cross country runner." I had no idea that by watching my boy run, I would be so inspired that my entire understanding of who he is and what makes him tick has changed dramatically. And watching the Frog improve her time, meet after meet, mile after mile, has been inspiring, too. She has been able to change her attitude from, "I'm running well and that makes me happy," to, "I'm running well, but I know I can run faster, so I'm going to work really hard toward that." <em>That</em> inspires me, too.<br />
<br />
We've been going to all of the meets as a family, which enables us to spend a great deal of weekend time together. We have a family habit of praying the Rosary whenever we're in the van for any length of time--which is usually the case, since we're roughly half an hour from most of our destinations. It's been truly bonding for the kids, to cheer for one another, to know that their family is literally backing them every step of the way. And it's been one step in this stage of life which sees us with kids in junior high and high school who have found a niche where they are more than comfortable, they excel.<br />
<br />
We bring our big water coolers and a little folding table, two big canopy tents with sides and tarps for the ground, and a few camping chairs. We get to the meets early, which really does mean early--most meets are on Saturday mornings, with the runners needing to report in time to walk/jog the course, stretch, warm up with their team, and prepare mentally and physically...which means they're usually arriving about 90 minutes before their race begins. We get things set up for them so that when they arrive, they can relax, get into their warm up shoes, and stay warm while they wait to run their respective races. Last year, when I was carrying my little Gingersnap beneath my heart, I stayed home with little ones (or sometimes alone!!), and now I see what I was missing out on. Even with a very small team (we have about 15 runners all together), the kids have a wonderful time.<br />
<br />
And so we're all just going along, day by day, trying to hang in there with the intensity that beginning the school year brings with it. Some activities have been set on hold until a good pattern is established, or until cross country season is over, or both. Some activities have been stopped all together in the interest of more family time.<br />
<br />
Though I've said it before, I really do hope to come back to writing here with some increasing frequency. I've written many posts in my head, and at some point, I need to make room for other thoughts. :)<br />
<br />
Prayer requests: Please keep in your prayers:<br />
<br />
* Kate and her family, who are dealing with a terminal illness within their family.<br />
<br />
*Mary and her family, who recently welcomed their fifth child.<br />
<br />
*Our neighbors, who could just really use some prayers--and I'll just ask the Holy Spirit to use those prayers in whatever ways are necessary!<br />
<br />
*My Grams, who celebrated her 96th birthday this month, thanks be to God, and who is just always wonderful.<br />
<br />
*All those suffering from depression, anxiety, stress, or any other mental ailment, especially those who are negatively affected by the change of seasons--those silent sufferings can be so terribly crippling, even though the one bearing them does not look sick.<br />
<br />
*All those suffering with health issues which result in seasonal flare-ups, like arthritis, fibromyalgia and others--for the same reason as above.<br />
<br />
Always know that I pray for those who ask me to do so. Your intentions are always brought before Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament when you ask for my prayers.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-48667843936762482222011-07-17T19:14:00.000-05:002011-07-17T19:14:53.180-05:00Blogger has changed things since my last venture this way. I have, too.<br />
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I've decided that I'm not going to finish writing about my birth experience with my little Gingersnap. She is beloved, precious to me, and gives me cause to smile every day. I've thought and prayed and processed over and over the things that happened after her birth, and though I may change my mind in the future, for now I'm going to just move past it. It was traumatic and transformative, and that's enough for now. I am well, my health is good, and it's been a long road...but God is endlessly good. I thank you for your patience and your prayers, and always know that when someone asks me for prayer, I do remember and pray for them as well.<br />
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Things are moving forward at a pace around here!! We have a bank inspector coming this week to see the nearly-complete addition! We've all been busy, and my projects are mounting. I've been thrift shopping, recovering, refinishing, sewing, stuffing, and painting.<br />
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My Darling is hanging drywall today. The Pantry Room is the last room which needs finishing, and it's getting the attention it's been needing at last. Eventually, the floor will be tiled, there will be a row of cupboards (on a narrow wall, so we're using upper cabinets on a pedestal) with counter top against one wall, and a large closet-style pantry cupboard against the opposite wall. The room will be our entry room, but will no longer be where we hang jackets and shuck boots. That's what the Mud Room is for!!<br />
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The Master Bedroom has been completely painted; light fixtures have been installed, and subfloor has been laid. We're waiting to make the final decision about flooring...the walls are a delicious suede-chocolate brown on the bottom, and a beautiful elegant blue on the top, with a white chair rail around to divide them. The light fixtures have an oil-rubbed bronze finish, and I'm going to have to replace the door hardware. The French doors we have for the bedroom were from the Habitat for Humanity Restore--they were a bargain for $200! They are 15-light doors in a beautiful maple, with the gorgeous grain of the wood showing through the protective coat of polyurethane. The hardware on the doors, though, is in a brushed nickle, and the door does not latch. They were initially installed in an office, and I think they were not intended to close securely. So anyway, when we replace the hardware with the same finish as the lights, we'll get them to close, too.<br />
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My projects for the bedroom have included reupholstering a chair and a little bench, spray painting the frames of some mismatched mirrors for one wall, and refinishing the top that was taken out of the dresser which is now the vanity in the laundry room/bathroom.<br />
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Oh!! The laundry room!! Good heavens, it's pretty! It's a truly pleasant place to do laundry, thanks be to God! We did not go all-out with the size of it, but we have made it work beautifully for our needs. Because it's upstairs, and just 'round the corner from the family closet, there is plenty of room to work getting things folded and put away. And because My Darling is my builder, I've been able to customize every little bit about it all.<br />
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I need to shoot over to the photobucket site and upload my pictures this week. I also have a bunch of sewing to do, and I need to finish the trim on the chair that I reupholstered. I wanted to make an effort to get over here, though, and to say that I'll be back again very soon. I know this has kind of been all over the place--I apologize. There's been a lot going on, and I'll get it all sorted in a jiffy.<br />
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Thanks again for dropping in to read, for your prayers, and for leaving comments. :)laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-37921820274353814902011-06-13T13:50:00.003-05:002011-06-13T13:54:34.937-05:00Yep.Yep, I'm still here.<br /><br />Nope, I haven't abandoned my blog.<br /><br />Yep, I'm <em>still</em> processing my little Gingersnap's birth, and all that I have been through since.<br /><br />Yep, apparently it <em>has</em> affected me more than I'd initially thought.<br /><br />Yep, I'm ok. Mostly.<br /><br />Nope, I just haven't found the right words. Yet.<br /><br />God is Good, and works all things for good for those who have faith and are called by Him. I'm clinging to that daily.<br /><br />Hang in there with me, folks. Please keep me in your prayers...I covet your prayers. Know that I am keeping you in mine, too. Thanks for your patience with me. I'll be back very, very soon....it's been a long road, and I'm trying my best to keep the rubber on the road, keep it between the ditches, stay right of the center line and all that good stuff. I'll get there. Just bear with me.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-87660908722512833192011-02-21T23:49:00.006-06:002011-02-22T00:52:14.480-06:00Gingersnap, the EntranceSunday, January 30th began like every other Sunday does in our home. We are gentle in our waking on Sunday mornings...the children emerge from their rooms on a natural schedule, rather than being rousted. Mass isn't until 11:00, and we leave here at 10:00 to get there in time to calm ourselves and prepare our hearts.<br /><br />Somewhere around 7:45 or so, My Darling and the Squash begin making the pancakes. Squash pulls his youth chair over to the counter near the stove. My Darling hauls out the cast iron griddle, which takes up two burners on the gas stove. They mix the pancake batter in the old Tupperware pitcher, and joust just the littlest bit with their spatulas--"tings" Squash calls them, because "ting" is the sound they make when their flat blades collide. He helps Daddy to flip the pancakes on the griddle, and then flop them into the stoneware bowl from which they are served at the table.<br /><br />That Sunday, I was feeling a bit nauseous, and couldn't eat even a bite of the delicious pancakes. I think Squash was a little sad about it, but he was cheerful nonetheless.<br /><br />As I dressed for Mass, I was just not feeling quite right--a little off, but not enough to make me think I shouldn't go to Mass, for Pete's sake. Mass is the one time I get out of the house these days, and I wasn't going to miss it for the world!! The drive in was mostly uneventful--My Darling took us past the scene of the Great Truck Roll, and we could clearly see the imprint of the truck door and window, and we could see the place where the mirror would have been...<br /><br />I was very uncomfortable all during Mass. I could not concentrate very well, and I could not sit still. Things were beginning to happen, and I <em>knew</em> I was in early labor. I rejoiced, thinking, "All of the saints and angels are <em>here, </em>and I get to begin the joyous work of meeting my baby <em>here at Mass</em>!!!!" What an incredible blessing!!<br /><br />I had to get up and move a little bit. I used the ladies' room, and then stood in the back of the nave, just swaying from side to side...just a little, subtle dance that I was sure no one could possibly notice.<br /><br />That's not really how it works though, is it? In a parish with so many large families, there is always someone who knows. And in our parish, there are midwives, doulas, and Mamas of Many--and their husbands, who have watched their wives go into the beginning dances of labor. It nearly surprised me when, after Mass, my dear friend who is Mama of Eight asked me, "You're in labor, aren't you?" Actually, she didn't really <em>ask</em> me, so much as she made a statement of observation. I said, "I am <em>totally</em> in labor!" We grinned about it, and as she hugged me, she said, "My husband pegged that about five minutes into Mass."<br /><br />So much for subtlety!<br /><br />We intended to shop for groceries after Mass, but I informed My Darling that we had better reconsider. It took him forever to head for the parking lot to drive the van up to the door--the parking lot, being a block away, was not in the cards for me. The entire ride home, I found myself having to very quietly vocalise through each contraction, and the timing of them and the intensifying of them told me that this was true labor, that it was moving along very well, and that it would likely be just as wonderful and enjoyable as my labor with the Cuppie had been.<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />When we got home, I went upstairs and spent some time dancing around in the bedroom...swaying, rocking, lunging--just as I had done on Thursday. After a fashion, I thought, "I'd better get a little rest. I'll lie down for a bit, and then I'll fill the tub," which was, after all, where Gingersnap was going to be born.<br /><br />I did lie down for a bit, and since I hadn't really felt a ton of movement through the morning, I poked and prodded my belly a little bit. I talked to my baby, saying, "I get to meet you today! I finally get to see your sweet little face!" I was a little gun-shy about it, since Chris' comfort level for a home birth is normally 36 weeks 4 days, and at that point I was only 36 weeks 3 days...but I knew she wouldn't split hairs over it.<br /><br />As I was going in to fill the tub, I felt a big thudding movement from the baby--and that was the beginning of the drastic change in my labor.<br /><br />I filled the tub and got into the deliciously warm water. Good thing, too, because the contractions changed and became more intense...and began to radiate way more into my back than they had initially.<br /><br />I suppose it was around 2 or 3 in the afternoon when that happened--I don't really know, because though I'm sure I glanced at the clock as I passed it, there isn't a clock in the bathroom, and that's where I remained for most of the labor at that point. My Darling came and went between me in the bathroom and the kiddos downstairs. I had no idea what they were up to, but he let them know what was going on, and they seemed to be just as good as gold. Don't know what they had for supper, or what movie they watched...don't know what time the boys went to bed--the girls stayed up for the duration.<br /><br />What I <em>do</em> know is that by the time My Darling called the midwives and they arrived, it was about 6:30 in the evening. They were cold and so comforted by our heated tiles in the bathroom! They brought in their equipment and put things where they needed them to be. They began chatting with My Darling a bit....<br /><br />.......and my labor slowed tremendously. I moved between the tub and the loo, and really thought it was *time*--but when Chris checked me, I was only at 2 cm.<br /><br />I was so frustrated. It was about 10:00 in the evening, and this had officially become my longest labor...and I was only at a 2?<br /><br />I sat on the edge of the bed and cried...and breathed through a few contractions. They were really spaced out though. Chris said to lie down and get some rest...maybe things would pick up again in the morning.<br /><br />The midwives left.<br /><br />I tried to lie down, and got gobsmacked by a contraction. And another one. And another one. And good <em>grief</em> did they hurt in my back!!<br /><br />I got into the bathroom as quickly as I could, but had two contractions between the bed and the tub. By the time I got into the water and had it warmed up again, the contractions were like sledge hammers smashing against my spine.<br /><br />So much for the peaceful, enjoyable labor I had envisioned. This was serious work, and having had two back labors before, I knew it wasn't going to be any easier until it was time to push.<br /><br />With each contraction, I would squat and lean forward and grab onto the water spout. I sang a very loud song of opening, and tried desperately to focus on <em>anything</em>. After a few contractions like that, I began hanging onto My Darling's hand with each pain. I squeezed the very lifeblood from two or three of his fingers...I figured it was the least he could do. ;)<br /><br />At one point, during a break between the pains, I slept. Actually, I slept what felt like a good bit between each of them, though My Darling says I only had about 30 seconds between the end of one and the beginning of the next. But at this particular point, Our Lady came to me. She said to me in the most beautiful voice, "Look there...do you see my beloved Son? Do you see His suffering? I am bringing you to Him, to His cross. Be there with him in your suffering and know that He suffers with you, for you. I will remain here with you." I have never experienced anything like this in my life....and I will never forget it. No song could ever be as sweet as her voice was. It was like the scent of heaven, but in a sound...and to even try to explain it with words makes it sound coarse and jagged.<br /><br />I was also beginning to see, in the tile on the wall, the face of a lion. The face was gentle, but strong, with an open mouth and eyes. Something in my spirit said, "As with the Lion of Judah..." and I began to think, "I can roar my baby out like a lion." I really needed to--the pains were so incredible, so powerful, so much bigger than anything I had ever experienced, I could not help but roar.<br /><br />My Darling called Chris to come back at around 1:00 in the morning. My labor had begun 13 hours earlier, and I was lost trying to get from one pain to the next. My Darling held the phone out as I roared through yet another contraction, and Chris said, "Tell her she needs to calm down...I'm on my way!"<br /><br />This time when the midwives came, my labor did not slow. When Chris checked me, she let me know that I was at 6 to 7 cm, with a bulging bag of waters. It wasn't too long after that that I needed to give a push...and the bag burst. It was such a strange sensation, one that I could never adequately describe. It felt like a balloon bursting in my lungs, or something near to that. There were about 2 or 3 contractions after that during which I felt relatively little pain--Gingersnap's little head was descending from where it had been floating in her watery world...and when it finished descending, the pain came right back again.<br /><br />The time came to help her to leave her little warm home and come into our big, open world...there was no position I could find that felt good or right. The world was entirely pain. Everything was pain. I could not believe the amount of pain I was in. It felt like my body was being torched with a fire that burned but did not consume. An unbelievable amount of pain which I never imagined existed was now banging against my back. I kept trying to see Our Lady and her beloved Son, and it was all I could do to keep that vision in my mind's eye.<br /><br />I begged for an epidural. My Darling said, "I left the stuff for that at the shop..." I implored them to just knock me out. One of the midwives said, "I don't think that's a service we offer..."<br /><br />Well, then, <em>somebody</em> get this baby out, because <em>I can't</em>!!!<br /><br />Finally, Chris suggested that I stand. I did, and I leaned over her shoulders and gave a mighty push to help my baby's head come forth. Chris had me lower back into the water, and as I did, there was my sweet little Gingersnap. She was looking right up into my eyes, which is, of course, why my back had felt during my entire labor exactly like forty-two legions of soldiers were marching up and down my back, as though it were a battlefield, and stabbing their spears into my spine with every step.<br /><br />2:34 in the morning, January 31st, thanks be to God!!<br /><br />She was so tiny--and I was so surprised that she was a girl! I really thought there was a little boy in there!<br /><br />Oh, she was so beautiful, and so very, very tiny...I could barely feel the weight of her.<br /><br />Reepicheep and Frog and Cuppie came up from the downstairs to see...I believe Reepicheep was the one to cut Gingersnap's umbilical cord, which had a true knot in it. By the time I was ready to get out of the tub, Frog was holding Cuppie, and My Darling was tucking Squash back into his bed (he and Pickle had made a cameo appearance to lay eyes on their baby sister) or something--so Reepicheep was the first one to hold my little Gingersnap for a minute.<br /><br />The midwives got me and Gingersnap tucked into the bed for a little while so that they could clean up the bathroom, get my herbal bath ready for me, and prepare for the newborn exam. As I soaked in the tub, Chris readied to measure and weigh my little Gingersnap. I had already guessed that she wouldn't even come near six pounds. But she was pretty long--I couldn't wager a guess at how long she was. Chris measured her, and scrunched up her face--"That can't be right!" she said. She measured again, and looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Twenty inches long?!" she exclaimed. That's my longest baby yet! "Maybe she'll surprise us with her weight, too," Chris said.<br /><br />Five pounds, four ounces. Tall and thin!!<br /><br />She scored well on her apgars, 9 and 10 I think.<br /><br />She nursed beautifully, and pooped even before the midwives left.<br /><br />By 5:30, we were all tucked into our respective beds, my girls finally collapsing into their beds, although I'm fairly certain Reepicheep didn't sleep until late that afternoon.<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />Everything went very well...until Thursday, when I began to feel so low I could have crawled underneath a snake's belly wearing a top hat. Every single muscle in my body was doing it's dead level best to remind me what I had done on Monday. My back and my legs were in a screaming match, and the rest of me felt like so much jello.<br /><br />Thursday night, I was beginning to notice a twinge in my side. It seemed to come on with the after pains, which were pretty substantial, but not unendurable. But by Friday mid-morning, this twinge had begun to hurt. By lunch time, it had begun to throb. And by early afternoon, it was getting so severe that I was getting a little scared about it. I began to feel feverish, and my gut told me that this was something substantially wrong.<br /><br />I called My Darling to come home. He did come just as soon as he was able, and by the time he got home, I could not stand up on my own. I couldn't straighten out, couldn't lower my right knee from my chest. We got Gingersnap dressed, and My Darling brought me pants and socks.<br /><br />We headed out to the hospital just like that.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-34859670394827922172011-02-21T23:23:00.003-06:002011-02-21T23:45:10.649-06:00Gingersnap, the Overture...I know this is a long time coming. I just feel like every time I sit down to think about my little Gingersnap's birth story, someone needs me, someone climbs on me, someone wants to nurse, someone needs a referee...but that's just life in a big family.<br /><br />So it happens that I am curled up on the couch with some Norah Jones soothing me with her sultry voice, Gingersnap snuggled in and sleeping deeply, and the house is sweetly quiet. I'm tired, but I need to get this written...<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />The week before Gingersnap was born was eventful. That Thursday, the 27th, I spent much of the day laboring quietly. While the little ones napped, I paced in the bedroom, rocked, danced, swayed, lunged, and just generally moved in whichever way felt the most natural with each wave that came. I didn't really think it would progress much that day, which is unusual for me. My more common response to obvious signs of early labor is, "YES!!! Come on home, Baby, we're gonna meet the next one!"<br /><br />For some reason, that just didn't even occur to me on Thursday. Friday wasn't exactly the same--a bit of labor here and there through the day, but nothing remarkable. My Darling was, of course, going to work in the evening, which is the way of it on Fridays. He almost always calls me on his way home to see how the night has gone, and to let me know that he's on his way. The only time he doesn't call is when he's coming home earlier than either of us expected....then he just likes to walk in early and surprise me. I don't mind a bit.<br /><br />But on Friday the 28th when he called me, and I said, "So how was your night?" he answered with, "Well....um.....I rolled the truck."<br /><br />*jawdrop*<br /><br />The scoop was that we had just received a couple of feet of new snow, and on that night it was snowing/sleeting/freezing raining/crapping from the sky. Well ok, it's February--we expect that. The county in which he <em>was</em>, where the restaurant is, uses a different mix of concrete and blacktop for their road surfaces than the county in which we live. They also treat their roads differently, and tend to use a lot more salt in crud weather like we were having. That's a <em>good</em> thing, for Pete's sake. So as he drove into our county of residence, My Darling did what he always does on cruddy roads: he waited until there weren't other cars on the road, and he checked to see how much traction he had, by way of letting the truck slow way down and then giving a light tap to the breaks.<br /><br />It was a good thing he was going so slowly. The truck began to slide, and then to turn--he ended up facing the opposite direction in the opposite lane--almost a slow-motion half-donut-U-turn. The truck slid all the way over to the shoulder, where it stopped....but as it came to a stop, the wheels on the passenger side came up against the berm of snow left behind by the plow, and it was just enough to top the truck onto its side. My Darling said it all happened in such slow motion that he had time to hang on--he didn't end up with a single bruise, cut, or scratch--nothing, thanks be to God!! No windows were even so much as cracked. The bumper was dented, and the passenger mirror snapped off. I suppose that's to be expected, for having landed on its side in the ditch.<br /><br />Well of course I completely freaked out. There was no way I would believe that he was <em>fine</em>, as he kept insisting. I could not see him with my eyes, so I could not believe that he was unscathed. A county sheriff had come to process the accident, and My Darling waited in the back of the cruiser for the wrecker to come haul the truck out of the snow. Even as he spoke with me from the warm shelter of the police car, I could not make myself believe that he was ok.<br /><br />To make things worse--after the wrecker came to My Darling's rescue, they were only able to get about 5 miles down the road before the dispatcher contacted the driver of the wrecker to let him know he was needed <em>urgently</em> elsewhere...like on the Interstate. He had to drop My Darling off at a gas station on the highway--which was, of course, closed--and I had to venture out to pick My Darling up. The wrecker driver was needed for a 5-car accident...apparently, another car had slid off of the road (terribly common that night, sadly), and he was ok...until he got out of his car. And then he got hit by a car. And then other drivers smashed all around. I don't know how that man fared...but we definitely prayed for him.<br /><br />The drive to the gas station to rescue My Darling takes, on a normal trip with clear, ice-free roads, takes about 5 minutes. But on that evening, it took about 15 minutes. It was horribly slick out there, and I was so incredibly happy to see My Darling that I practically vaulted out of the van to hug that boy's neck when I got to the gas station. He drove us home, and I was glad he did...I was shaking.<br /><br />All the while, I had asked people for prayer for My Darling, and of course, got the comments saying, "Now don't you let him scare you into labor!" Being nearly 4 weeks ahead of my due date, I knew that some labor was normal for me, and I actually did expect to go early--but not <em>that</em> early!<br /><br />Saturday was quiet. No labor to speak of...perhaps a few contractions here and there, but nothing significant. My Darling worked on the laundry room that day, and I stuck around the bedroom, napping, puttering, and just being near him in general.<br /><br />Saturday night, I had a few stronger contractions, but again, nothing that made me think that true labor was imminent.<br /><br />Aaaaaaaaaand then Sunday came.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-67616677359224616702011-02-02T14:08:00.003-06:002011-02-02T14:16:25.473-06:00So.....I've been a little busy.I'll write the full story later, because I'm still working on processing it all................<br /><br />...............but my little Applelumpkin--who is now called my little Gingersnap--arrived into my arms at 2:34 AM on Monday, January 31. She was precicely 36 weeks, 4 days cooked.<br /><br />Gingersnap measured an incredible 20 inches long, and weighed only 5 pounds, 4 ounces. She's a tiny little thing!<br /><br />I am falling maddly in love with her with every passing second.....<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/TheBlessing020-1.jpg" /></a><br />We are fit and hale and healthy, and working on learning how to get the milkies to increase the pudge.<br /><br />The big kids, which now includes the Cuppie (!!), are all in love with her, too. Everyone clamors around for the most part, wanting their turn at holding her. Cuppie checks in regularly, including in the dark of night, wanting to count Gingersnap's little toes. Squash keeps smooching her nose "so it doesn't get empty." Reepicheep is like a helicopter, hovering and grinning. Pickle has held her all of twice--I think he's afraid that he'll drop her or squish her or something along those lines. And the Frog, who LOVES school, was happy to miss it on Monday, sad to go on Tuesday, and <em>thrilled</em> that she has a snow day today, on account of the gigantic blizzard we're in the middle of.<br /><br />Thanks be to God!laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-17613831671536167842011-01-24T14:01:00.003-06:002011-01-24T14:19:39.193-06:00I don't spend a lot of time here on my little <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">cyber</span>-home talking about our lives as a home schooling family. I suppose part of that is that it's just so much a part of our day each day that it doesn't occur to me as something to write about.<br /><br />A friend of mine on a social networking site made a comment about the school of one of her children just not working out well for their family, and I mentioned that this was one of the big reasons we made the decision to begin home schooling our children four years ago.<br /><br />Someone known or related to her made this comment in response to mine:<br /><br />"As flawed as our education system is, it builds social skills that can not be built at home...I have seen this many times over...home schooled kids are less likely to be socially adjusted<br /><br />"also I feel leaving the education system is not really... solving the issue, become involved, get other parents involved and you will be surprised of the changes that can happen.<br /><br />"And i sure the comeback will be that "MY Kids" are very social and are doing great..Unfortunately you will not see the damage until they are older....which I have seen too many times....They can not make it because they have been sheltered.<br /><br />"I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">personnally</span> am glad my kids are in public school...and yes we are involved in the changes that need to be done...be voice of change a be active in your schools....I see too many times, people who complain, but do not get involved in their schools and still expect change to happen...<br /><br />"get involved and see what happens...<br /><br />"As E. knows, I am very passionate about my beliefs. And if you <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">truely</span> want change and/or advice, feel free to contact my wife or myself and hopefully we can get you some good info to get you started in your schools.<br /><br />"My wife is the PTO President at our school and I volunteer my time at our school also...and we have spearheaded many changes at our own school..."<br /><br />Now, without being nit-picky and taking this comment apart bit-by-bit, I responded in kind:<br /><br />"Well.....<br /><br />"Tell that to my kids, who have been home schooled for four years now and have markedly better "social skills" than their public school educated peers. If you think my kids or any home schooled kids for that matter) aren't socialized..., you don't understand modern homeschooling. It tells me that if you do personally know any families who home school, you likely either do not see most of what goes on, don't know them very well, or know a very small sampling of homeschooling families.<br /><br />"Please don't assume that I was not involved with my children's education while they were in a building school. Our eldest was in the fifth grade when we made the decision to begin homeschooling, and it most certainly was not for lack of effort on my part, the parts of other parents, or our kids to make the most of the classroom model of education. Very simply put, it does not work for many students, and the ones for whom it does not work are marked as failures, as learning-disabled, as disruptive--when that's not usually the case at all.<br /><br />"I spent many long days volunteering in their three different classrooms--three days each week, assisting teachers, and helping in ways that most parents would never take the time to do.<br /><br />"Colleges and universities LOOK for home schooled students because they know that these kids know how to apply themselves academically, generally have good independent work ethics, and are not afraid to set a good example for their peers. I know dozens of home schooled college students and college graduates who have been very successful and are incredible testaments to the dedication that their parents had to their education.<br /><br />"My children are not "sheltered" from much of anything. They are very involved in many aspects of their community, active in ways that they would not be able to be if they were tied down to the current model of education.<br /><br />"Please don't assume that homeschooling families are hick know-nothings who could care less about education or are interested only in "sheltering" their kids from "real life." The fact is, very many of us are college-educated, and see the downfalls of the public education system, who work in effort to change it, but who realize that changes happen very slowly, and that had we not made the decision to home school our children, they would have fallen victim to a system which frequently fails kids. Had I *not* been actively involved in my children's' classrooms, I likely would not have seen this in action"<br /><br />.......and just because I can't keep my big mouth shut (or in this instance, can't keep my busy-bodied fingers from typing), I continued:<br /><br />" I really want to elaborate on something very specific--the social aspect of schooling. Kids who begin in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">pre</span>-school and continue toward graduating high school in a classroom setting are not being educated in a way that shapes them to interact well with anyone outside of their specific age group--yet once they reach college (if that is their goal) or the work environment, they are at once thrown into a place where not only are they expected to be responsible for completing tasks under their own motivation, but they are also expected to deal immediately with people of different ages, educational backgrounds and work experiences. These are the types of situations my home schooled children encounter on a very regular basis, through volunteering, participating in activities during the day or evening which encourage them to interact with others who are not necessarily within their peer-group, and which would not be available to them if they were in a classroom from 8 to 3 every day.<br /><br />"My kids are able to participate in activities structured toward learning actively about government, learning about their faith, learning the history of their community, caring for the poor and needy, tending to the aged and infirm, observing many different professional and vocational callings, and in general, helping them understand that life is not entirely about them and their friends.<br /><br />"My kids do not have to worry about competing with kids their age over ownership of *stuff*, over "who's dating whom?" (and the accompanying societal peer pressures to get into things they have no desire to make priorities in their lives), over who is involved in more after school activities. They know how to sit down and talk with just about any person of any age, and it's conversation with substance. They can talk with their grandparents and great-grandmothers about family history and learn their stories. They can talk with me and their dad--and do, frequently--about their thoughts and dreams and fears and hopes. They can even talk with the parents of their friends about what's going on with them, what's happening in their lives, their schooling, and their families. They can talk with kids younger than they are and even *play* with them appropriately, without the fear of being laughed at by their friends. They are capable of performing just about any household task that is asked of them. They are able to go to work with their dad and see first-hand what makes the family business run. They are learning to be responsible for more than just getting their Math and English work done!<br /><br />"All of these things have helped to enrich our children in ways that could never be accomplished in a classroom setting, and each element of their day-to-day living and learning here at home is helping to build great character in each of them.<br /><br />"I don't mean to imply, so please don't infer, that children who attend building school don't have character or are not capable of building character...but there are many dozens of lost opportunities for learning when you put a child into a classroom for seven hours each day and expect them to fit into that district's idea of the mold of a model student.<br /><br />"E. is right--there are some children who just do not fit into that mold. Public--even private-- classroom education is not for everyone, just as homeschooling is not for everyone...but for some families, homeschooling can make the difference between a very bright, successful adult and one who has been marginalized by teachers and peers alike throughout their schooling experience."<br /><br />Now, I didn't get into <em>all</em> of the reasons that went into our decision to home school. There are, for starters, simply too many. But what I've found is that it really doesn't matter, fundamentally, to anyone but us--and the fact of the matter is that the biggest reason we made the lap from building to home education is that it is, plainly, what God was calling us to do. Most people don't understand this, and it would be frustrating and fruitless to try to explain it.<br /><br />Because we are strongly anchored in our Catholic faith, and because we knew that God was calling us to more fully live that faith, we knew that allowing our children to daily remain in the hands of people who are disinterested in instilling the truths of our faith in every aspect of their education was not only not in the best interest of our children, but for all intents and purposes, quite frankly, to their detriment. Why would we daily immerse our children into a system which undermines the moral values which we have instilled in their hearts and souls since their births? Why would we choose to put them into situations which would make the question the decisions and foundations of their parents? Why is it seen as "healthy" or "good" or "normal" to put children into situations which cause them to have to question the authority in their lives which ought to matter most?<br /><br />Well, we decided, along with many other parents, along with Holy Mother Church, that it is not healthy, good, or right at all. Parents have the right to educate their children, and the moral responsibility to do so to the best of their ability, and so we took that right and responsibility seriously and began on our home schooling journey.<br /><br />What do we have to show for it?<br /><br />I'll let my comments above speak for themselves on that, and perhaps I'll ask the kids to start writing the occasional entry for my little <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">cyber</span> home here at God Will Provide.<br /><br />I would encourage those of you who have chosen to educate your children at home to chime in with your thoughts--why did you begin home schooling? What have you found to be the positive aspects--and what have you found to be the greatest challenges? Do you have the support of your family? Of your friends? Of your church? Of a home schooling <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">support</span> or cooperative group?laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-12578663060028407292011-01-17T09:35:00.003-06:002011-01-17T11:01:35.964-06:00Patience? A virtue, you say?Patience has just not been one of those beautiful gifts with which I have been blessed. I have had to work for every little bit of patience I have ever possessed (thanks be to God, perseverance <em>is</em> one of the gifts I've been blessed with!), and the results are not always what I would call virtuous. Perhaps I judge myself a bit harshly, but then...don't we all?<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />The snow is blowing and coming down at a pace. A blanket three to five inches deep is what is expected by nightfall, and I'm convinced that I'm the only one perfectly fine with it. I don't mind a bit being snowed in, especially this winter, while I wait for the small Applelumpkin to make a decision about a birthday.<br /><br />The weekend wasn't super-snowy, but it was cold and bright, and afforded wonderful light by which to work on the quilt! AND--<em>I FINISHED IT!!!!</em> I am so thrilled to have this part done, and now I truly feel that I can just..........wait.<br /><br />You know, patiently.<br /><br />Pictures? You want <em>pictures</em>?? Well, I <em>HAVE</em> pictures!!<br /><br />First, the co-sleeper. I was very fortunate to spot a listing for a co-sleeper on the infamous craigslist, for a fantastic price. We happened to have some Christmas money just waiting for some special use, and between the two of us, My Darling and I decided that this co-sleeper would be a wonderful gift for our little Applelumpkin.<br /><br />Now, usually, we would side-car the crib--that is, remove the front side of the crib (which is very sturdy, heavy, OAK even, and can withstand having only the three sides by merit of the fact that it is a convertible crib and meant to be used as a toddler bed down the line), raise the mattress height by adding a second crib mattress, butting it up to my side of the bed, and taking certain precautions to ensure that there is absolutely no gap between the two. It's a lovely arrangement, really, because it gives the baby plenty of room, and means that our queen-size bed does not begin to feel like a camp cot, for Pete's sake.<br /><br />The downside of this arrangement is that, well, the crib is gigantic. Once it's in place, we don't move it until we're ready to transition whoever is sleeping in it to a room with a sibling, which means it's in our room for about a year. Because I like to have my bedside table handy--for my reading lamp, my glass of water, a place to put my book--you know, the whole <em>reason</em> one would have a bedside table...anyway, the crib is generally centered alongside my side of the bed. This means that my access point at the foot of the bed is only about 18 inches. It's doable, for certain, but it's not in the least bit ideal. Plus, with the size of our room being what it is, and walls not being movable, there are about FOUR inches left between the back side of the crib and the wall. Noooooooooot a whole lot of wiggle room there.<br /><br />Enter the co-sleeper. It's the length of a bassinet, plus about 6 or so inches. It's the width of a bassinet, plus about 6 or so inches. It is a lovely proportion, and will allow Applelumpkin to be directly beside me, just as though the crib were there, though perhaps not for quite as long. But the good news is, <em>hopefully</em> (she said to herself, secretly praying in <em>earnest</em> that it was a legitimate hope...) the new master bedroom will be finished not too long after this little Applelumpkin makes an appearance--and then the room will be so gigantic--cavernous, even--that having the crib side-car arrangement will not be an inconvenience!<br /><br />So, in the meantime, I give you...............the CO-SLEEPER!<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/PreparingforBlessing6010.jpg" /></a><br /><br />See the lovely plaid fabric on the back there? It's just for decoration at this point, but I need to find a way to incorporate it. I'm not sure how I'll do that just yet. It's actually a small tablecloth which was found in My Darling's grandmother's cedar chest...it's ridiculously soft, both in texture an the beautiful muted colors. I have a *thing* for antique fabrics and linens, so this fits my bill quite nicely. And as you'll see, the colors are perfect for our needs as well.<br /><br />When we bought the co-sleeper, I had looked at many reviews of it, and noticed (too late) that several owners reported that the "sheet" which came with it was scratchy, thick, and if laundered in washer and dryer (um......how else would I launder it??) would shrink in such a way that it would no longer fit the mattress. If I had gotten the full-size co-sleeper, a sheet made for a Pack & Play would fit. But the mini? Well, no standard sheet of any kind will fit.<br /><br />BUT--a standard pillow case does the trick! I used a flannel case, and secured the open end with three diaper pins. Problem solved!<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/PreparingforBlessing6011-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />This is where the co-sleeper will eventually be placed. In the very, very beginning days (and nights), Applelumpkin will probably just sleep on My Darling's chest, for that is how all of our babies have begun. And with the number of feedings and diaper changes which happen throughout the night, it's really most convenient. But the day (or night) will come when Applelumpkin will begin to put on the pudge and become squirmy...and need a place to sleep...and that is when the co-sleeper will be employed.<br /><br />This is my side of the bed. The little plaques with lambs on them hung on the wall at Grandma's house, in what was Aunt M's bedroom. I remember the wallpaper in there was a similar color to my bedroom walls here, and covered in beautiful birds. I'm almost certain, though, that the lambs got their start over my mother's crib back in 1942.<br /><br />Grandpa made the little wall chest. He loved to craft things out of wood--all of them have this same finish and color. There are bookshelves, sewing organizers, and tables which he made. Grams gave me this little chest and one of her sewing organizers when she moved from her little house. I am honored to have this on the wall in our home.<br /><br />My bedside table is my touchstone...it holds my glass of water through the night, and I always have some worth-while reading there. The book on top at the moment is Jan Karon's <u>In This Mountain</u>, and just underneath that is Pope Benedict XVI's <u>Jesus of Nazareth</u>. Both are wonderful, and I pick up the one most suited to my mindset. The little shelf next to the table holds more books--the Mitford books are on top, and there is another shelf packed with all different books, from the Mary Poppins books by P.L. Travers to books by Archbishop Fulton Sheen.<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/PreparingforBlessing6007-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I've frequently talked about The Basket. This basket is where my mother, her sisters, my sister and brothers and I, our four maternal cousins, and each of my children have slept in infancy. When I was a baby, Pop rigged hooks on the ceiling and a way for Mom to hang the basket to keep my brother's sticky hands off of my face. I like that I can put it on the kitchen table, or on the gigantic ottoman, or wherever I need to. I can pop it in the back of the van and take it with us to family gatherings if necessary. And for the moment, I like that it so neatly holds all of the things Applelumpkin will need, from tiny t-shirts to receiving blankets to sweet little gowns.<br /><br />The Towels are there, too. There, on the left, is the towel which will be warmed up in the dryer while I'm busy holding our little Applelumpkin, so that when the time is right, My Darling can hold his youngest child for the first time. That towel, I promise you, is impossibly soft and will be delicious when it's warmed so nicely.<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/PreparingforBlessing6006-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />By comparison, here is the Squash as a baby, lying in the basket and playing with his little elephant rattle:<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/100_0300-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />And the Cuppie, barely awake, snuggled into the basket:<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="The Bug in the Basket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/KJMZCamera124.jpg" /></a><br /><br />So snuggly and cozy that I almost want one for myself.<br /><br />Well then--a glimpse of the quilt.<br /><br />I made six nine-patch flannel blocks, ran strips of creamy colored chenille between the blocks, and backed the quilt with the chenille. To finish the edges, I had pondered using a satin binding, but opted to just turn the chenille and tack it around the edges with a decorative zig-zag stitch. I love the way the chocolate brown and the aqua blue work together.<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/PreparingforBlessing6005-1-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I also found the adorable polka dots in the same aqua and chocolate, and pieced them with the aqua pea pods....I love the print!<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/PreparingforBlessing6002-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />The finished product is pretty big--I have it spread across our bed, and it nearly covers the surface of the queen-size mattress. Definitely big enough to snuggle beneath! Oh--and check out the blanket underneath the quilt....my mother-in-law must have had some divine inspiration while she was Christmas shopping. She gave me this king-size plush blanket as a gift for me and Applelumpkin. I could not believe it when I saw the color!! This plush blanket will go in the dryer after The Towel comes out, to be warmed up and then wrapped around me and the little Applelumpkin as we're tucked into bed together. I cannot wait!!<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i488.photobucket.com/albums/rr248/chuckzim/PreparingforBlessing6005-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I am definitely not a professional quilter, but my babies don't seem to mind. I am very pleased with the way this quilt turned out, and am very eager to snuggle my newest little one in it.laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3009248640416616082.post-29776984032163448382011-01-12T23:59:00.003-06:002011-01-13T00:17:19.524-06:00Wishin' and prayin' and hopin'....Really, I would <em>love</em> to be asleep, but that's just not been the way of it lately. I catch bits and snatches of sleep here and there as I can, but mostly I'm resigned to the pattern of being tired, dozing here and there, and knowing that in just a few short weeks I'll be tiredly awake and staring at a beautiful, pudgy, sweet little face. That'll do, for now.<br /><br />Since the Squash loved hearing, many months ago, that the baby was about the size of an apple, he started calling it Little Apple. Several months later, we told him the baby was the size of a pumpkin, but he said that name was already taken (because that's what we called Cuppie for so long!). Now, he's settled on a mishmash of the two words: Applelumpkin! I *lurve* it.<br /><br />I sent out a notice yesterday to our home school group that I am looking for a Mother's Helper to hire, just a few days each week, for about the first 3 or so weeks after the little Applelumpkin is born. I did this because with the Frog away at school all day and My Darling not being able to take days off from work, I know that I will need some extra hands, feet and eyes to help out with the Squash and the Cuppie. Reepicheep and Pickle do a great job, but for Pete's sake, they are kiddos themselves. They do so much by way of helping to keep the house running (because in a big family, everyone pitches in...), and to expect them to help me do what needs to be done for Squash and Cuppie while I snooze with the Applelumpkin...well...that's just too high an expectation by my estimation.<br /><br />I've gotten a couple of very encouraging responses: one from a Mama whose daughter would probably be able to lend a hand here and there, and another from a Mama who has many contacts through the friends of her older kiddos who are in college rather locally, and who would likely be able to come up with something! I am greatly encouraged by this, because this issue in particular has been the source of a great deal of anxiety. My Darling reminds me: GOD WILL PROVIDE (seen that anywhere recently?!), and that things will fall into place. My intense need, my instinct to <em>have</em> everything in place before the baby is actually born is just part of the nature of Mamahood, I think. It's part of nesting. It's part of protecting my territory and being sure that the perimeter is sound and secure <em>before</em> I bring my sweet baby forth, and not waiting until I am needing to rest, recover, snuggle, nurse, and get to know every beautiful square millimeter of my newest baby.<br /><br />I have everything else in place--almost. The list of supplies that has served me for the past two births has been stocked and restocked, save for only two remaining items. They are on My Darling's "to pick up" list. The baby clothes have been washed and folded and tucked into the traditional wooden basket in which three generations have slept. The only thing that remains is that quilt..........which I have still not even begun, save for in my head. I have come very close to making peace with the possibility that I may not get it finished--but that's not really satisfactory, now is it? Perhaps even writing about it will give me the giddyup to move on it.<br /><br />After I sleep.<br /><br />Which I dearly hope happens tonight.<br /><br />Did you know that on the Hallmark channel, beginning at 1:00 AM, "I Love Lucy" runs for three hours?<br /><br />Found that out the other night.<br /><br />Did you further know that if a pudgy little foot encased in a sleeper kicks your eyeball smack on the lens and you are wearing a contact lens because you were too stinking tired to remove the contact lens before you <em>finally</em> fell asleep, you will be jolted most rudely awake, but your eye will survive?<br /><br />Found that out last night.<br /><br />I'm hoping for exactly ZERO odd revelations tonight.<br /><br />G'night!laurazimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07740164378856454831noreply@blogger.com0