Intentional bread Lenten pledge

I know that you all all one of you have been biting your fingernails alllll morning, checking in checking in checking in about how our family's Lenten season went.  I actuality, here's a quick recap since my day-to-day happenings are not likely to be fresh on anyone's minds (ever). 

*We committed to make our own daily bread throughout Lent.
*This did not include cereal (though it could have).
*This did include bread-y items like crackers.

Frankly, this was the most purposeful, introspective Lenten season that I can remember.  I'm not so much one for "giving up" things during Lent just because that's what you're supposed to do (says society in general).  However, I do believe in the tenet that this is a season of austerity and intention, which does go well with a meaningful, individualized "giving up" action, even if the act isn't actually doing without but simply a change in behavior, which is more along the course of action for our family.

Do let it be known that this was not intended to be an act of helping my family "eat better" or "be healthier" or (ugh) "diet."  No, no.  We can do that any time of the year, and every so often, we do make a small change in our life that we believe is more in keeping with how we want to be and be in communication with others, and very literally speaking, with our Earth. 

Simply put, here are some thoughts that made the most impact with me not only for myself but in observation of the other three in the house.

*I adore making bread in any guise.  What I thought in advance might be an intentional chore that would border on problematic at times was never that.  There was, every time, an awareness of the chore rather than an element of drudgery or annoyance about it.  To this end, I think we did well.
*I missed the animal crackers and the loaves of French bread that I nearly always have on hand because that goes so well with soup, which we have often--at least once a week if not more.  I appreciated this "loss" from my normal routine, however.  It almost daily reminded me to seek patience and prudence over instant gratification and surplus.
*My girls never questioned the switch about the bread.  That surprised me, actually. 

Overall, I'm happy to report that our Lenten act was successful insofar as it achieved what we hoped it would.  Perhaps it's fitting that I made a rich, creamy batch of lemon kolaches as part of our family's Easter celebration yesterday.  Our oldest has alternately referred to them as "those round, yellow things" and "kolachos," and they were a sweet bit of bread to enjoy. 

As a last thought, I'll leave you with a happy visual.  Leo, our diabetic furball, is currently chasing his tail on our bed behind me.  He's turned into Mr. Frisky these last few weeks now that his blood sugar is back in line where it should be.  His time may be coming soon, but every day now, he is sharing with us a renewed joy and moments of unadulterated pleasure.  I'm a softie for the animals, I know, but the happiness in his eyes is so, so worth it.   

Searching for leprechaun gold and unicorns

Well, it's a bare feet and sunglasses kind of day.  Luckily, I have a couple of little ones who think it's grand to do all of the running so long as they can flop and squeal on Mama every so often.  I call that a "win-win."  They run about and generally act crazy in a controlled environment (namely, a fenced in yard instead of a walled in house), and I bask in the sun on soft, spring grass like a cat. 

That was the happy prelude to what I really got on here to write about.  I've been wanting to take a break and write something for several days now, but often when I sit down to do so my mind either goes blank or feels all negative negative negative, neither of which I generally want to share on here.  Who wants to read any of that?  That's not a rhetorical question because there's definitely an answer, of course: No one does. 

Still, every so often there's a bit of frustration that bounces around my general psyche, and today is the day that I'm going to share this with the inter-web-world.  We are pretty steadfast in teaching the mantra "Everyone is different.  Everyone is special.  You are no better than others.  And that's all okay."  We're down with this ideology in our everyday lives but also mindful of preparing our kid(s) in a manner of ways for life after pre-school when things get real. 

My frustration stems not from anything to do with the wee babes, though, but rather how this affects my own life.  I'm something of a fish not so much out of water but an hermit crab's aquarium.  A tank is a tank, you might say.  Why does it matter whether you live here or there?  Well, it matters a lot.  My talents and areas of interest are decidedly unnecessary and obsolete in the place where we live.  And it's been rough trying to reconcile that with the life that the boy has created for himself insofar as he is right where he needs to be, doing what he needs to be doing.  How does one compromise that?  Either one half of the equation is always happy and the other half isn't or there has to be a complete life overhaul. 

So we're in the process of essentially buying a new house, and the frustration of this, for me, manifested itself readily last night.  I was talking through some inspection/renegotiation issues with the boy as we expected when I got the old "What's wrong?  Your eyes are watering" comment.  (Does anyone else's significant other ask this as discreetly?  "Your eyes are watering."  Well, then.  That's calling a cabbage a rose if ever I've heard it.)  I know that in my previous post I wrote how "zen" I felt about the house-moving-change situation, and most of the time, it does feel like that.  But then there are those times when the "zen" actually feels more like "prisoner to a situation."  Regardless, I'm still sure that this whole situation has happened for a reason, one which we are meant to act on purposefully, but the frustration doesn't dissipate because of this certainty.  We're definitely in the "You don't need it...you want it" stage with our youngest, and this translates to me just as much.  Here's the bold, bald truth: We don't need this house.  We want it.  And it keeps us here, indefinitely.  And I have a stark, blank future being here.  That's about the scariest, most frustratingly un-plannable thing in my life.  At some point, I should learn from the past and work to let go of that insatiable need to plan.  We certainly didn't move out of this present house after 3 years (it's been 8).  We certainly didn't leave this place after a year or two (it's been 9).  We certainly didn't move away straight out of college (unless by "move away" you mean back to your boy's hometown instead of the east coast). 

So the last 9 years have been an ongoing lesson in patience (largely) and learning how to cope.  Apparently, I haven't figured these out yet, else I feel we would surely be called elsewhere.  We're still here, likely going to continue being here, and will remain here until later.  That's the plan.  This will be a new way of thinking! 

In the meantime, I'm utterly unqualified for living in a blue collar town what with a Masters in English Literature and all.  Whenever I figure out how to get paid just for talking about  books, then I will definitely share.  I have a feeling that this job is just around the corner, over by where the leprechaun hides his gold at the end of the rainbow.  Right beside the unicorns. 

In like a lion, out like Opening Day

Well, it's baseball season again, and for that, I am ever so thankful.  These are the best 7 months of the year, wouldn't you agree?  I'm glad that I can't hear you right now, otherwise, I'd have to talk some sense into you.  Just go ahead and agree with me, my lemming friends.  And for those of you who, shockingly, don't share my fascination with this beautiful game, there are only 158 more games this year.  You have plenty of time to find some peanuts and Cracker Jack and then just e-n-j-o-y the game. 

I'm not just here to profess my love of America's pastime, however.  No, no...it's about to become even more fascinating.  Our Leo is kicking his Diabetes to the curb, my friends.  Yes, I get it.  He's just a cat.  But again I say, he's also a breathing animal with the ability to feel pain and display emotion.  I don't care if he's one of those little crabs with a painted shell.  He's given me a little bit of positive energy of late.  I just took a video of him chasing his tail like some frisky kitten, but my videos always play upside down, which makes him look like he's chasing his tail on the ceiling, and I thought for now I will spare you all hypothetical readers this weirdness.  (By the way, does anyone know why my iPad does this?)

Oh, and we decided where to send our oldest to kindergarten next year (undoubtedly, that is if I remember, I will be writing about this later).  And that led to us deciding that if we're going to be in this area for the indefinite future (i.e. no job(s) elsewhere yet...teaching jobs are usually only up for grabs at the end of the school year, which has required another round of I-shall-learn-patience-if-it-kills-me) and if our kid(s) are going to be going to school in a certain school district, then we should probably live in that school district at some point.  So we accidentally found a house that is pretty much everything we've been looking for: 2-story, right school district, 4 beds, 2 1/2 baths (that extra 1/2 bath will be a dream come true, I kid you not), decent yard, decent kitchen, and not insanely expensive or right beside a meth house.  And in the spirit of "patience," we found the house five days ago, have walked through it twice, and are making an offer on it tonight.  The best part is that I am 100% OKAY if we do not get this house and I'm 100% OKAY if we do.  I feel very zen about it all, that what will happen will happen, and either way has it's fair share of challenges.  Either way, life will happen, and we will be okay.  Granted, we might lose a few financial pounds in the process, but who doesn't need to lose a little weight these days?

Here's to good things and resolution happening.  There can be no coincidence that this all has come down right when baseball has started again.  It truly is the harbinger of good, good things.

Living with (cat) diabetes

This...

...is Leo.  He's a beautiful mister.  Sadly, he was diagnosed with diabetes this week. 

Monday was one of those days.  I think I had poop on my hands four different times throughout the day (and seriously, by now, I'm pretty adept at avoiding that).  I spent the night in and out of bed with some sort of short-lived stomach bug.  And, I almost passed out at the vet's office.  So there was that.

The short and short of it is, though, that our big fluffy has been all out of sorts of late.  Shamefacedly, I admit that we've known something has been going on with him for a month or so, but I kept putting off another vet's bill because he was just in for his shots and whatnot a couple of months ago, and those bills aren't cheap. 

I did my Google best to figure out his issues prior to committing to an appointment (did you know there is an animal equivalent to WebMD?), and while "diabetes" definitely came up in my sleuthing, I was thinking he had this other issue, which I can't remember the name of, and for which I wasn't that excited to dole out the money for meds.  Diabetes, unfortunately, it is as confirmed in a couple of different tests. 

My boy is anything buy ferocious, but apparently, he fought the good fight against the vet, who eventually called me for an okay to sedate him just for a blood sample.  The other option was apparently a muzzle, a towel, and likely injury to all involved.  He fought like a true champ against his perceived enemy.  Ergo, he actually spent a pretty miserable night because the vet couldn't even get close to him to move him into a more comfortable cage.  Way to go, buddy.

Prior to that battle, I suddenly had a pretty bleak choice staring at me, which caught me both by surprise and while I was feeling all woozy.  I had to either commit to the medical bills entailed for regulating his blood sugar or I had to commit to having him put down.  Immediately.  So I made the choice, and he's back at home with us for the foreseeable future.  What it really means is that he has about a month of 2 insulin shots a day as well as a very strictly monitored, prescribed diet before we'll know whether he has to continue with the insulin injections.  Unfortunately, this is probably going to be the deal breaker.  They're pricey enough and he's skittish enough around all but 2 people (in the world) that it means one of us has to be with him every morning and every evening while he's on insulin, which overall just isn't feasible. 

Of course there's the standard refrain that He's just a cat.  But that's not really the the issue at stake, now, is it?  Of course, he is a cat, and there simply has to be a price that's too steep at some point.  But we believe in animals and in their emotional capacity.  We believe that there is a mutual love affair and that we have given them our pledge to care for them.  I know that many a person would not be willing to give their cat insulin shots or pay for more expensive food.  I guess my cat is a lucky one that he has a bit of a safety net here.  We're a pretty insular family, and once we lose one of the few pieces that we have, it's a colder, bleaker world. 

He's cuddling with me as I type this, and some day I'll miss that.  But, it's not going to be today because I sure do love his big, throaty purr. 

Case in point why we don't bed share

Actually, there are a number of reasons (even, dare I say, better more scientific ones than what I'm about to throw down here) why we don't bed share with the littlest ones in our lives.

Here's my 5:42 a.m. story.

I'm actually not necessarily adverse to being awake at 5:42 a.m., but pretty much only if I'm a) by myself, b) wrapped up in a blanket, c) in our recliner, d) drinking coffee--dark roast, of course, e) by myself, f) enjoying the full-blast furnace as the house warms back up from the chill of the night, g) reading, and h) BY MYSELF.  I like to be by myself in the morning, ya dig?

This morning, was not one of those mornings.  I was in bed.  Happily asleep.  Warm.  Snuggled.  Relaxed.  My child, however, disagreed with my selfish desires.  She decided that "Mommy!  I need you!" at around 5:14 a.m.  (This is a journey, folks.  I'm getting you to 5:42 a.m.  Just hang on.)  Surely I've mentioned before that child #2 is MY little snuggle bug.  Child #1 is DADDY'S little snuggle bug, for which I have been very grateful many a Saturday morning when she has bounced in all awake/alive/alert/enthusiastic at 6:00 a.m. on the nose cause you know she's there in her bed staring at the clock, just waiting for those digits to change to "a 6 on the left" (our household rule).  And when she bounds in like a little puppy who needs breakfast RIGHT NOW (!!!), Daddy gets the nod to be her star provider and Mommy smiles grandly (nay, luxuriously?) to herself, rolls over, and goes back to dream-ville.  Yet God is one for a good bit of harmless fun, of which I am convinced.  What goes around comes around.  We had to go and pop out #2, who is every bit my cling-on just as much as #1 has spurned my comforting arms in favor of her dad's skinny ones. 

Once in a great while, #1 will snuggle in between us on a Saturday morning and won't insist on breakfast RIGHT NOW (!!!); when she does that, Daddy gets the soft, cuddly end of her, and I get the cold feet kicking me in my back.  I can handle it.  I mean, my pillow is still all soft, I'm still relaxed, and my down comforter is nothing short of fluffy-warm perfection.  (Those ducks and geese know what's what with the down.  W-A-R-M.) 

Well, all this is to say that by 5:42 a.m. this morning, after 3 combined trips into #2's room to re-tuck her in, to fumble compassionately at her downy head, and to whisper sweet please-go-back-to-sleep-right-now-child nothings in her tender ear, I gave up and advised the boy to just bring her in with us.  The day was about to start anyway.  Neither of us were going back to sleep.  But I wasn't ready to give up my cocoon quite yet.  What do you know?  I (yes, I!!!) got the soft, cuddly end of the baby and at one point I heard "You're kicking me, not your sister" (who had also joined us by this point).  When I say "I got the soft, cuddly end" I really mean, I had a hard, downy baby head repeatedly whacking against my back/shoulders/neck/head area as she shifted and shifted and shifted as kids are wont to do.  Blissful dreams, right?

Then she cough/gagged and threw up a little bit in our bed.  Delightful. 

Why do people do this on purpose?  I am truly befuddled. 

This sounds like paradise

About the end of every week, I hit a mental wall of fatigue where I go through this endless pattern of self-pity (really attractive to admit, I know) and longing.  A change of scenery would be greatly appreciated by all around here, not just because we're in the last death throes of winter but just because the same old, same old just gets...old.  So here it is.  This is my paradise right now, in part restricted by budget and in part out of a true sense of this is what I really, really, want to do.

1.  a weekend away
1a.  I'm not sure if this entails a weekend away by myself or with someone else.  I really can't decide, and I've been debating this point for about a month now.  Pretty much every Friday around 2:36 p.m.

2.  a mani/pedi
2a.  If I had to choose one over the other, then a pedicure.  Every.  Single.  Time.  I do love me some pedi action.

3.  restaurants
3a.  This probably goes without saying, but my ideal restaurant situation right now would entail no children.  And it would be plural...like a whole weekend full of them.  They would be local, not chain fare, and something different from anything around here.  There's a reason I hit up Panera so much (which by "so much" I really mean, the once in a blue moon when splurges happen).

4.  plentiful amounts of coffee
4a.  There would preferably be a Keurig on demand, stocked with a veritable array of delish choices that I don't normally indulge in.
4b.  There would also be pastry.  Lots of it.

5.  reading
5a.  I would very much like to combine #4 with a lot of #5.

6.  television
6a.  How sweet would it be to zone out to some HGTV and Food Network?  How epic would it be to do so combined with #4?  Amazing.

7.  shopping
7a.  I like to wander shop.
7b.  I have never been to an IKEA.  I would like to go to an IKEA.  I would like to combine visiting an IKEA with #1.

8.  bed and breakfast
8a.  I love them.
8b.  I've been spending some serious computer time scouring ye olde inter-web for a B & B that will accommodate us when we take a mini trip with the girls this summer.  It's fueled my yearning for #1.

And that's it.  It's not so out of reach, I don't think.  Except, at 2:36 on any given Friday afternoon, especially ones when the bean WON'T SLEEP, it is all out of reach.  We have a fat tax refund within easy reach right this very moment.  If only...

Bless the boy

I got a call from the principal's office this morning, but it wasn't about my kid.  It was about the boy.  Rather, it was about the lack of the boy being where he was supposed to be.  In other words, he didn't show up at school for a while.  And I don't know what I was going to accomplish, but I was 30-seconds away from putting the kids in the Prius and striking out on our own to find our mangled car in a ditch on the way to school. 

Today's weather can best be described as never-before-have-I-witnessed-this.  I got up at 5 a.m. to cram in a week's worth of Bible study homework for today's class that was summarily cancelled.  At that point, it was raining...downpouring, really.  That changed over to sleetishness around 6 with a few bursts of thunder, followed closely behind by big-old-wet-snowflakes-ing at 6:15, which, surprisingly, were sticking immediately.  Bad news bears for ye olde morning commute.  And the electricity kept flickering flickering flickering for over an hour.  It was just one of your typical June-thunderstorm-snow-showers-in-March kind of a morning.

And the boy left in his all-wheel drive vehicle on time.  But didn't make it to work...on time.  And herein lies my biggest fear.  What if something happens to the boy?  My primary fear isn't about my kids; I feel control over their situation.  Nothing is happening to them unless it's happening to me, and I am infallible, right?  I'm in charge over everything, right?  Yes, nothing is happening to them.  It's not really even on my radar.  But time and again I get these little breath-catching reminders that the boy is beyond my control.  He's not protected by my superwoman aura.  I can't correct his car from sliding off of the road or watch for anyone running a red light.  And it has to be this way.  But my kids are also impermanent insofar as they're under my force field for only a handful of years, but the boy I have chosen for good.  He's not getting booted when he gets too big for tween books and high school basketball games.  He's not getting cut off when he's no longer covered on my insurance.  I mean, he's my IT. 

And wouldn't you know, despite his propensity to irritate me in the morning and his love affair with popcorn, I still need him to be here with us.  With me.  What I don't need is anymore calls from the principal's office asking if I have heard from him.  Thankfully, he was late from being overly careful with the lousy driving conditions.  Bless him.