There are too many days when the only vegetable in my kids' diet is katsup.
I think I would greatly benefit if Marina came equipped with some kind of early warning system. It could start off softly when she's easing towards trouble, then upgrade to a "Defcon 1" tornado blast when she starts coloring on the walls or flooding the bathroom.
I've seen tons of medications that warn, "Makes you sleepy. Do not drive or attempt to operate heavy machinery while taking." Melanie comes with no such warning label, but she probably should.
I am continually amazed at my kids' ability to stand two feet from me and, somehow, be completely unable to hear a word that I am saying, unless those words happen to be "McDonalds" or "Jelly beans."
I feel really bad that Melanie's life as a third child involves so much crying.
Also amazing is Megan's constant attempts to get around the "no tattling" rule. Her latest trick is to stand six inches from me and sob, "Ouch Ouch!" Apparently this is how she feels Marina's dastardly deeds will be properly brought to my attention. Ignoring her just makes her louder.
I don't even want to describe the scene that met me in the dining room last night; suffice it to say, it involved both big kids, diarrhea and a squirt bottle. I'm sure your imagination will fill in the blanks.
Motherhood is not for the faint of heart.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
In Memory
Last week, the 23 year old brother of one of my closest friends took his own life. He had struggled with alcoholism for some time, but the news that he committed suicide shook my friend, her family, and all around them to the core. Equally tragic is the fact that my friend lost her father 20 years ago--in the same way.
At Russell's funeral on Tuesday, I couldn't help but look at all the people surrounding me. I didn't know Russell; we spent some time together as small children, but I hadn't seen him in over 18 years. Most of the people attending his funeral would have said the same thing. We were there to support his mother and sisters, and also to grieve for the loss of someone so young. My guess would be that if all of us were in a room with Russell when he was alive, he wouldn't have recognized or known 75% of us. I couldn't help but wonder...if he could have looked into the future, and seen the grief of that group of people, so many of them strangers, would it have changed his mind?
I overheard someone say in passing, "What a waste." I can only assume they were referring to Russell's age, and the fact that he chose to take his own life. But I truly feel that "waste" is not the word to apply to the situation. Tragedy, yes. Horrible, yes. But waste? What Russell did was wrong; I am not disputing that. But I firmly believe that God can--and does--work amazing and wonderful things, even in the midst of tragedy, horror, and sin. We may never know the full repercussions of Russell's death, but I think it would be equally tragic for us to assume that none of them could possibly be good. As Fr. Marc said, God loves Russell. Nothing he did in life will ever change that.
His death has touched our family in ways I wouldn't have predicted. We are saddened for the young man that we never knew, but even more, we grieve for and with his family, whom we do know, and know very well. Dn. John was asked to be a pallbearer, and I can't help but wonder at the strength it took for my husband to serve in that position for a man he'd never met, but grieved for anyway. In the end, as I witnessed him comforting our friends after the funeral, I came to the conclusion that God wanted him as a pallbearer so that he could be on the "front lines" so to speak, and no more than a footstep away from our friends when they needed him most.
Today was Russell's burial. His family was granted special permission to bury him in the National Cemetery on Fr. Richardson, where his father lies. As the funeral procession drove through the base, we witnessed an extraordinary thing: every soldier, upon seeing the hearse, pulled their vehicle--be it a police car, a civilian vehicle, or--in one case--two camouflage Hummers--to the side of the road, got out, stood to attention, and saluted. Having never been a part of a military funeral, I had no idea as to the protocol involved. Seeing all these men standing and honoring Russell, despite the fact that they had no idea who he was, moved me to tears. God bless them for the honor and support, however small, that they gave to Russell, his mother, and his sisters.
My thoughts and prayers continue to be with Russell's family. The grief that I witness is two fold...one for the loss of a beloved son and brother, and secondly remembering the time 20 years ago that they went through this same process for a father and husband. I can't pretend to know how raw that grief is, nor how incredibly difficult it must be to endure the same horror twice in a lifetime. Please pray for them, and pray for us as well, to be able to offer the friendship and support that they need during these most difficult days.
Memory Eternal Russell. May your soul dwell with the blessed.
At Russell's funeral on Tuesday, I couldn't help but look at all the people surrounding me. I didn't know Russell; we spent some time together as small children, but I hadn't seen him in over 18 years. Most of the people attending his funeral would have said the same thing. We were there to support his mother and sisters, and also to grieve for the loss of someone so young. My guess would be that if all of us were in a room with Russell when he was alive, he wouldn't have recognized or known 75% of us. I couldn't help but wonder...if he could have looked into the future, and seen the grief of that group of people, so many of them strangers, would it have changed his mind?
I overheard someone say in passing, "What a waste." I can only assume they were referring to Russell's age, and the fact that he chose to take his own life. But I truly feel that "waste" is not the word to apply to the situation. Tragedy, yes. Horrible, yes. But waste? What Russell did was wrong; I am not disputing that. But I firmly believe that God can--and does--work amazing and wonderful things, even in the midst of tragedy, horror, and sin. We may never know the full repercussions of Russell's death, but I think it would be equally tragic for us to assume that none of them could possibly be good. As Fr. Marc said, God loves Russell. Nothing he did in life will ever change that.
His death has touched our family in ways I wouldn't have predicted. We are saddened for the young man that we never knew, but even more, we grieve for and with his family, whom we do know, and know very well. Dn. John was asked to be a pallbearer, and I can't help but wonder at the strength it took for my husband to serve in that position for a man he'd never met, but grieved for anyway. In the end, as I witnessed him comforting our friends after the funeral, I came to the conclusion that God wanted him as a pallbearer so that he could be on the "front lines" so to speak, and no more than a footstep away from our friends when they needed him most.
Today was Russell's burial. His family was granted special permission to bury him in the National Cemetery on Fr. Richardson, where his father lies. As the funeral procession drove through the base, we witnessed an extraordinary thing: every soldier, upon seeing the hearse, pulled their vehicle--be it a police car, a civilian vehicle, or--in one case--two camouflage Hummers--to the side of the road, got out, stood to attention, and saluted. Having never been a part of a military funeral, I had no idea as to the protocol involved. Seeing all these men standing and honoring Russell, despite the fact that they had no idea who he was, moved me to tears. God bless them for the honor and support, however small, that they gave to Russell, his mother, and his sisters.
My thoughts and prayers continue to be with Russell's family. The grief that I witness is two fold...one for the loss of a beloved son and brother, and secondly remembering the time 20 years ago that they went through this same process for a father and husband. I can't pretend to know how raw that grief is, nor how incredibly difficult it must be to endure the same horror twice in a lifetime. Please pray for them, and pray for us as well, to be able to offer the friendship and support that they need during these most difficult days.
Memory Eternal Russell. May your soul dwell with the blessed.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
She sleeps!
MELANIE IS SLEEPING BY HERSELF. Throw a parade! Break out the champagne! I've been working with her today to try and teach her that my lap is not the only place she can sleep...and it's going decently well. Megan is happy to rock her when she fusses, and this has given me a chance to clean up, make bread, and do some other random tasks. I also haven't taken any pain medication today, and while I'm moving a little slowly, I feel pretty good. It's one of those "back in the land of the living" moments...despite the fact that the land of the living includes very little sleep and two arguing children. But we're only looking at the positives, right? :)
I have reached a critical juncture in bread making, in that it has yeast and is rising right now, so if Melanie flips out and I forget about it, my bread has the potential to explode all over the kitchen. Here's hoping the peace continues.
Megan ever so kindly asked me yesterday, "If the baby is already born, why is your tummy still so big?" When I told her it just takes time to shrink back down, I was informed I should do some exercise. While she's probably right, that exercise will not be happening for at least another month. By then, I'll hopefully have the doctor's okay, and there will be less ice on the road so we can go for lots and lots of walks. The muni finished a bike path last summer that goes right past our street and into Eagle River. My friend Kari and I have big plans to take our kids for lots of long walks this summer into town...if for no other reason than we can. Round trip from here to the store is four miles, so we'll get in some good exercise, conversation, and lots of sun.
I have reached a critical juncture in bread making, in that it has yeast and is rising right now, so if Melanie flips out and I forget about it, my bread has the potential to explode all over the kitchen. Here's hoping the peace continues.
Megan ever so kindly asked me yesterday, "If the baby is already born, why is your tummy still so big?" When I told her it just takes time to shrink back down, I was informed I should do some exercise. While she's probably right, that exercise will not be happening for at least another month. By then, I'll hopefully have the doctor's okay, and there will be less ice on the road so we can go for lots and lots of walks. The muni finished a bike path last summer that goes right past our street and into Eagle River. My friend Kari and I have big plans to take our kids for lots of long walks this summer into town...if for no other reason than we can. Round trip from here to the store is four miles, so we'll get in some good exercise, conversation, and lots of sun.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Busy
I may never have time to blog again. Every time I log on, somebody starts to cry. Catch you later!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
