Thursday, July 28

Terrible Two

I had errands to take care of, so I told the kids to get their shoes on and go potty.

Then it began.

Baby Bee climbed Little Man's toy shelf and knocked over a box of Legos. Little Man yelled. She began to cry and morphed into a lump on the floor.

A few moments later, I was brushing Tater's hair and trying to explain the importance of brushing ALL of the hair, not just the the hair in the front.

Baby Bee walked into the room and started touching Tater's stuff. Tater yelled at her to get out. Again, she resembled a writhing blob on the floor.

Next, I attempted to gently brush and pull Baby Bee's hair up so it wouldn't be in her eyes. She screamed the entire time. When I finished, she hid under a pillow on her bed.

I opened the garage and told everyone to load up. Tater loaded. Little Man loaded. Baby Bee refused to move.

When I moved the pillow, I noticed that Baby Bee had removed and disposed of her ponytail holder. Her chin-length bangs covered her eyes and stuck to her wet face.

I buckled my screaming, kicking, shaggy toddler into her car seat straps and left the house.

The ride to the doctor's office was uneventful. I only needed to pick up a new box of allergy shots, and I knew we would only be there a few minutes. I thought things would be fine. Boy was I WRONG!

Upon arrival, I attempted to put Baby Bee's sandals on her feet. As soon as I got one on she would take the other one off. Finally, the shoes stayed on and I got her out of the car. She melted into a puddle in the parking lot and refused to get up.

Around this time, Little Man tattled on his big sister. Apparently, Tater said that I was mean.

It took about 10 minutes for Baby Bee to finally decide that she didn't want to be left in the parking lot and to realize that she had to do the walking herself.

I left my older two kids in the foyer with crying Baby Bee and signed in with the nurse. Then I sent the older two into the waiting room while I held my still angry toddler.

Baby Bee finally quietened enough for me to take her into the office. She wasn't happy, quiet, or still, but it was a little better.

When I walked into the waiting room, Tater and Little Man were fighting about a lost paper clip. Ugh!

The nurse kindly laughed and we joked about taking Valium and giving some Haldol to Baby Bee. She game me my new box of shots and we were on our way.

Once again, Baby Bee's meltdown heated up in the foyer. She refused to walk, so I walked out of the building without her. Of course, she ran after me, and I turned back to get her.

Just as I was walking back into the building I heard a woman yelling from the second story balcony of the foyer, "Who's child is this?!"

Some maintenance men (who had see everything) calmly explained to the woman that I was trying to teach my child.

As I picked up Baby Bee, the lady yelled at me, "This is a place of business...Take her out of here." Obviously, her business was very important to her.

I looked up at the obese, middle-aged, overly made-up woman and yelled back, "Get real. This is a pediatrician's office!"

I was almost in tears, but managed not cry as I headed to the car.

Baby Bee screamed as I put her in the car seat, complained that her straps were too tight, and kicked her shoes off again.

As we were leaving the parking lot, Baby Bee calmed down and asked if we could go out for ice cream.

I responded, "NO WAY!" and Baby Bee wailed again.

Monday, July 25

Oh, No!

I'm checking out friends' blogs, but I don't have anything interesting to say tonight.

Yardboy just looked over my shoulder and said about me, "Oh, no! She's blogging! She must be pissed! Did I say that out loud?"

Funny Yardboy. :)

Tuesday, July 19

Thank You Notes

A few days after returning from my mission trip (that was awesome) I had photo collage cards printed to use in thank you notes for my very generous supporters. Late last week, I purchased paper, envelopes, and printer ink and sat down to write my notes.

I don't know why, but I just can't figure out what to say. I'll type up something and erase it. My words don't communicate the gratefulness I have for God and my supporters. Now I just have to put in on paper. Words, please come to me!

So, I've been home from Guatemala since July 3. My guts finally decided to stop squirting, and then I got an unknown virus that kept me in bed for three days and made me feel like crap for another week, or so. I'm finally functional this week, but I can feel some sinus/lung trouble brewing. Ugh! This has to end!

On the up-side, I'm not able to eat much without feeling crummy, so I'm not overeating. :) Maybe I can use this opportunity to train my mind and body to make healthier choices.

God, thank you that I'm feeling better. Continue to heal my mind, body, and spirit. Give me the words to show my supporters how much I appreciate them.

Sunday, July 10


I returned from Guatemala a week ago. The trip was amazing! We served 900 patients over five clinic days. All eleven of us contracted some sort of intestinal bug and no, we didn't drink the water. It is just one of those things that can happen when visiting the third world.

Interestingly enough, I wasn't depressed while on the trip. There were times that I was lonely, sad, angry, tired, sick, nervous, or afraid, but most of the time I had a sense of peace and purpose. I missed my family immensely, and was ready to see them about half way through the nine day trip, but never felt depressed.

Since coming home, I've been having a great deal of fibromyalgia pain, fatigue, and of course, there is that tummy issue and my period. Any of those alone can cause the dark cloud to come, so I guess it makes sense that I was down. Also, culture shock took its toll too. I am thankful that my lungs seem to be very happy, so breathing has not been a problem.

I demanded very little of myself and kids this week. We stayed up late, slept even later, and lazied around the house. I managed to take the kids to the library on Thursday and that was an accomplishment!

Taking the kids to the library on Thursday was good, but I really enjoyed Friday morning. I was wasting away on the computer when a dear friend messaged me. We chatted for a few minutes, then she asked if I could watch her kids while she visited another friend in need. I agreed.

I believe it was good for everyone. The kids had a blast playing sardines (reverse hid and seek)and I loaded the dishwasher, fed the kids, and mopped my kitchen floor. Midst all of the kid noise, I realized that I was happiest I had been since being home from Guatemala. For the most part, I wasn't directly interacting with the kids (except for occasionally instructing them to not hide in the laundry pile), but I was content knowing that my friend was able to help someone else because her kids were with me.

My friend picked up her kids just as I was ready to take my two older kids to gymnastics and dance class. During class, my little one and I went grocery shopping. Somehow, I had loads of time left over after the shopping trip. I decided to go to Dairy Queen for snacks before picking up the kids. BIG MISTAKE!

I ordered three strawberry sundaes for the kids, and a banana split for myself. Really, all I wanted was a banana and a scoop of ice cream, but that isn't on the menu. In case you didn't know, a banana split from DQ is HUGE. Yes, I knew when I ordered it that it was too much. When I started eating it I knew it was too much. Half-way through eating it I knew that I was already too full. I finished the thing and was miserable. I tried to reason that at least the banana was healthy. Ha!

Why do I do that?! I know what is right. I don't want to do what is wrong. But I do it anyway...every single time. Sound familiar (Romans 7)?

This morning at church the sermon was about Joseph and how he was a dreamer (Genesis 37). He dreamed fantastic, unrealistic dreams, and they came true. As he spoke, I looked down at the colorful, handmade Guatemalan skirt I was wearing. I remembered the woman who made and sold it to me. Then I thought of how she and her mother commented on the size of my belly in Spanish when they were showing me how to wear the skirt. I don't like being fat.

The pastor challenged us to dream like him and trust that God can make those dreams come true. Here it is--I'm dreaming that God will use me to serve others, thus lifting me from my pit of depression, and that he will heal me of my addiction to overeating, thus lifting me from my pit of obesity, guilt, and shame.

So, I find myself again at Step Two: We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. Philippians 2:13