OK, I’m off to New York! See you in a week! And thanks so much for all the encouragement. I promise to come back with many stories!
Have a blessed week!
Hello and welcome to ThreeChannels.
OK, I’m off to New York! See you in a week! And thanks so much for all the encouragement. I promise to come back with many stories!
Have a blessed week!
Summer’s upon us.
And I’m running scared.
It’s not that I lament my children will be home with me twenty-four hours per day for the next several months. I did homeschool them for a few years, so I am used to having them around.
It’s just that “last-few-weeks-of-school” frenzy has me crazed, and has disrupted Edward to the point that I’m considering pulling him out of school. Yet since there are only two weeks left, that makes little since.
Plus I am supposed to got to New York during the last week of school so why would I blow that?
Why would I?
For the past four years I have gone to New York with my best high school and college friend to work a stationery trade show with her. It is desperately hard work, but amazingly fun, and many times I believe this trip has saved my sanity and potentially my marriage.
(Yes, I know I’m overly dramatic, but I’m serious about the sanity part.)
Ok, B just walked in here, saw the title of the post, and told me I should go to New York.
I am just seeing poor Edward melt down in the wake of disrupted schedules, class parties and field days. He simply cannot handle a schedule that switches Social Studies with Art and eliminates Math. Throw in a Third Grade talent show that he is not able to participate in because he is in Second Grade, and I don’t know what will happen!
Do I think that I am the only person who can help him traverse these schedule-trashed waters? Do I think that only I can make sure he is safe, well-fed and has enough books?
Can I go on this trip without crushing guilt?
Am I harboring unhealthy angst because he fell off the trampoline while I was in plain sight?
What is wrong with me?
I have loved Elaine Olsen’s blog, Peace for the Journey, for several years now. Visiting her web site is like sitting down with a trusted friend for a quiet morning devotion where the coffee has exactly the perfect amount of cream and sugar.
Elaine is an incredibly authentic writer and friend. One of my favorite topics she discusses is that peace is not the absence of conflict. Now that is something I need to be reminded of on an hourly basis!
Well now Elaine’s first and most anticipated book is out! I haven’t read it yet, but plan to do so, and I encourage anyone who is interested in learning more about the story God is writing through your own life to read it as well.
Have a blessed day!
My town has received 16 inches of rain in the past 48 hours! Here’s a house in my neighborhood.
We almost bought this house six months ago when we were house-hunting. We even had a contract on it, but pulled out because of some inspection issues:
The sellers told us we wouldn’t need flood insurance…
We do have water running through the crawl space of our house, but thanks to our trench-digging a few months ago, it flows right through the space and into the yard. Not ideal, but certainly workable!
Plus we got to run the fire place all weekend to keep the deluge of rain from spilling out into the floor. Nothing like a fire when it’s 75 degrees!
Earlier today we noticed a seeping brown spot in the playroom ceiling.
H went up to the attic to check it out, but the spot was almost beyond his reach. He called down and asked me to find a long stick and several tampons.
What was the point of questioning him? I grabbed the tampons.
He stobbed a few “medium flows” on the end of the stick and jammed them in the leaky spots.
So far they are working like a charm! It will be simple to change them out if the rain continues.
Please don’t think I am complaining because we are blessed to be safe and dry, but we have been confined to the home since Friday afternoon, and the children have resorted to some rather creative sources of entertainment.
Sue taped paper plates to her feet and scooted about the house.
H finally just went to the grocery store because we were seriously out of most staples.
We even resorted to cleaning out the pantry in search of interesting vittles and found this:
Yes, it’s petrified cotton candy.
Here’s the bottled water aisle in our local grocery:
Oh, and of course school is canceled for tomorrow! And nobody is talking about rabid skunks anymore either, although there was a news story about a man and his parrot who were rescued by jet ski.
Still, seriously the flooding in this area has been epic, and many people are in true trouble. So many homes were not in flood plains and therefore did not have flood insurance.
It’s got the makings of a fascinating week…
It doesn’t take much time spent reading this blog to realize that my 8-year-old son, Edward, is a sensory seeker. Running, bouncing, spinning, crashing–these movements and sensations are all a therapeutically necessary part of his everyday life. These actions provide the proprioceptive input his body craves in order to maintain some sort of focus and order, and without them, he cannot sit still, concentrate or maintain his emotional composure for any length of time.
Edward takes sensory breaks during the school day during which he bounces on a mini (I shudder to utter the word) trampoline; his classroom is equipped with multiple bean bags and large pillows for crashing and smashing. He pops over to the OT room for some intense spinning in a mesh swing, and thrills to careening all over the OT room on roller boards.
Edward spends almost ever afternoon after school outside in the back yard swinging, playing “tackle” football with his brother and rolling around in the grass. We have devoted an entire storage closet in our new house to being a “crash room” outfitted with huge pillows, futons and mattresses. Only after these activities is he focused enough to endure his social skills class or attempt handwriting practice.
So after Edward’s untimely tumble off an un-netted trampoline, (at a friend’s house), and subsequent ambulance ride, we leave the ER with this sage advice from the attending doctor: “His recovery should be fairly easy. Just keep him calm and quiet for the next week or so…no running or jumping or rough-housing.”
My husband and I looked at each other and our shoulders kind of slumped.
The next day we wondered aloud why we hadn’t asked the doctor for a sedative…for all three of us.
We have made it through the one-week mark, and I have to say I am beginning to relax just a bit. When he tripped over his sister’s huge box of crayons yesterday afternoon, my heart did stop for a moment, only to start beating again when he assured me, “That was my hip, Mom, not my head!”
First, let me say how glad I am to have met Dr. Barbara Boucher through the blogosphere. She is an OT, PT and has an PhD in Human Development and Family Sciences. I really wish she would move in next door to me because I need someone like her on an hourly basis, but at the very least I can encourage others to visit her blog which is full of all types of wisdom and insight!
This week Barbara is hosting a blog carnival where she encourages us to write about favorite childhood expressions. Last week, I started this quasi-eloquent essay about a stuffed bear that has seen our family from tonsillectomies to MRIs, elbow casts to, now, concussions, but the essay has grown a life of its own and I need to think about it more. In the interest of actually making a deadline, I have decided to write about some of the the quirky, odd expressions my children have come up with through the years.
I nursed all three of my children well into toddlerhood, and all three devised funny methods of asking to nurse. Joseph crafted this this “Na Na Na” chant that served him well from about 8 months through 14 months when I found myself exhausted during a second trimester of pregnancy trying, unsuccessfully, to nurse a toddler. To this day, if he has a question about that particular anatomy, he will refer to those “parts” as “Na Nas.”
Edward, often direct, did not devise a particular word, but would simply command, “Now,” and aim himself in the general direction of a “na na.” He was also known to propel himself in the direction of strange “na nas” if a familiar one wasn’t in view.
(Not surprising, really.)
Sue crafted this new word “nernie” for nursing, and she, like Joseph, continues to use the word “nernie” to refer to a woman’s bosom, as in the question, “Look at that lady’s nernies! Why are they so pointy?” and the encouraging and accurate, “Why are that lady’s nernies so much bigger than yours?”
I am well aware that one of the taboo subjects in any motherhood blog is potty training or potty-related writing, but I’ve been at this for almost three years and I just don’t care any more.
When Edward turned two, he declared/deduced that poo poo should actually be called “brown” (because most of the time it was brown). He then proceeded to call it such in all situations.
We have had to explain this lexical confusion/genius? to teachers, babysitters, friends’ parents: “If he says he needs to ‘make brown,’ that means he needs to poo poo.”
Our entire family has embraced this terminology for the past six years—even grandparents and great-grandparents: “No, we’ve got to hurry, hurry! He said brown—brown do you hear me?”
This of course changes the meaning of seemingly innocuous comments like “Brown Head” or “He smells like brown.” Or, “I think there is dog brown on my shoe.” “What’s that on the carpet—it looks like brown!”
Or the ever-popular: “This casserole is yuck–it tastes like brown!”
So now, not to be outdone, Sue has labeled tee tee “fountain.”
And now we have conversations like this: “Is it brown or just fountain?” “There’s a little bit of fountain on my princess potty.” “Uh-oh…fountain in the car seat!”
(Fountain over brown any day, I say!)
I am not precisely sure this rather ridiculous post is what Barbara had in mind when she asked us to write about childhood expressions, but this is my quirky take and the best I can muster under the circumstances. (Please remember I am spending every waking hour trying to keep my sensory-seeking-eight-year-old from running or jumping or bouncing or hopping or bopping or crashing or soaring because he has a mild concussion and can’t return to school until Wednesday and then it will only be for half-days. Yep, I’m homeschooling again, at least for this week, and it feels sorta good!)
Please pop over to Barbara’s blog and join the carnival!
I am overwhelmed by all of your kindness and prayers after my frantic tweet last night! Edward has a mild concussion but will be absolutely fine and is home from the hospital happily playing Wii.
For those who didn’t hear, he fell from a friend’s trampoline last night, lost consciousness and was taken by ambulance to a nearby children’s hospital. He gained consciousness during the ambulance ride, and by the end was grilling the techs about Mario.
By the time we got in the trauma room, he was quizzing the doctors and cracking jokes.
The doctors were like, “Does he always ask this many questions and talk this much?” And we were like, “Yes, absolutely!”
(Never again will I complain about answering all of his endless questions.)
Edward has several extremely busy guardian angels, and a God who loves him desperately and obviously has grand plans for him, as He has for all of us. I was continually reminded by this last night, and cannot thank you all enough for all your encouraging tweets and emails.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
They will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
These wonderful sisters came up with this twist on Wordless Wednesday! Please join them if you dare!
Thanks be to the Unmom for her ingenuity!
My disdain for Burger King’s Neopets may soon be usurped by McDonald’s dragon toys that come equipped with, you guessed it, a virtual online world. Don’t get me wrong. I thrilled to Cressida Cowell’s books after Tari turned my boys onto them…this was way before Ms. Cowell got so cool and became endorsed by McDonald’s and all. Someone I don’t think this whole online avatar deal was her idea…she is far too creative and well-read.
I am pleased to report that the free “home warranty” that was part of my recent home purchase is actually costing me money. My dishwasher began leaking and, because we had the “warranty,” I called the sanctioned repair professional who happily pocketed my $50.00 deductible and then told me that all I needed was a $12.00 seal. But alas, “seals and gaskets” are not covered in the “home warranty.” So a stupid seal that would cost me $12.00 at Sears, and could have been installed by my 8-year-old, has now set me back $50.00. Plus my hardwood floors are now beginning to buckle from the leak, although the sanctioned repair professional informed me that he was certain the buckling had nothing to do with the leak and must be related to some faulty hardwood floor installation. So happy!
I have officially solved the problem of Fajita, the guinea pig’s, cage smelling up my pantry/office. Mint hay has completely eradicated this issue. Maybe I should fill bowls of mint guinea pig hay and place them in each bathroom?
I love Sue’s preschool teacher so very very much. Not only did she take down a troubling painting of an elephant with an “evil eye” that was preventing Sue from using the bathroom during the 5-hour school day, but today she found out that Sue thrills to her brother’s leftover pirate costumes and declared this Thursday will be “Pirate Day.” As she explained to me, “Everyone else will need to either find a costume or draw on a beard. Sue has a costume so we’ll have an official day!”
I need a Monsignor. First person to comment who knows what I’m talking about wins a bottle of “Twilight Woods” Bath and Body Works bubble bath!
I seriously could not believe it! Last night was my father’s 73rd birthday party complete with pizza, cake and a fruit tray, and since Edward is GF/CF and Sue has recently become casein-free, H popped over to the local Burger King to procure some suitable fare for our unorthodox brood to consume during the festivities.
My poor sweet husband innocently purchased one kid’s meal.
This should have been copacetic, however, because BK has had rather lame toys of late so nobody has been fighting over them. But what to my wondering ears should I hear than the shrill scream,
“NEOPETS! NEOPETS! Remember the them from last year! There’s one in the bag! This is the greatest night ever!”
(Because a grandfather turning 73 is just small potatoes…)
His or her name is “Jub Jub.”
Compelling, isn’t it?
And then I just cringed because I knew what was coming:
“Where’s the web-enabled code? I don’t see a code! There’s got to be a code! You must have a code for web-enabled play! Where are the BK bags? Don’t tell me you threw then away? Who would do that? Let’s dig in the trash to find the bags and get that code!”
We dug through my sister-in-law’s kitchen trash. We sifted through coffee grounds and old orange peels. We found the crunched bags, but, alas, there were no web-enabled codes to be seen!
Eerily familiar, isn’t it?
We left the party dejected, demoralized, and with me vowing to never, ever step foot or van wheel on Burger King property again.
Still, because I am an good mom idiot, I checked out the BK web site to try to understand more about these elusive codes.
The web site explains that the codes are on the “collectible box.” The site promises: “Be sure to check your Neopets collectible box from BURGER KING® for a Virtual Prize Code. Enter it below to claim your virtual prize!”
Golden! I scan the box. I turn it over and over and inside out. I compare my box to the box depicted on the helpful web site.
Except my box DOES NOT HAVE A CODE!
Do you see a code?
Do you think my family has received a leftover “collectible box” from the days when the web–enabled codes were printed on the BK bags?
Do you think this fluffy, friendly “Jub Jub” should be enough to appease children promised by the Burger King Corporation to receive a non-existent VIRTUAL GIFT?
I just drew a line in the sand, Burger King.
Consider yourself warned.