Prayer request

After several weeks on bedrest, a friend of mine went into labor yesterday. The baby looked healthy and she was past 36 weeks, so they let her deliver.

Sadly, her baby died shortly after birth.

Please pray for this mother, her husband, and their families. They are wonderful Christian people who have such faith in God's plan. I know that He will be glorified through these circumstances, but I cannot imagine it now. My heart breaks for them.

First day of Big Boy School

Flutter

Tiny scraps of paper are riveting,
Their edges fuzzy where they were torn.
Each one, a different shape.
Each one, a different size.
Each one, a different thing.

Held up to the light,
The paper seems thin and webbed.
Falling to the ground,
It seems as solid as granite.

This could pass the day away.
Paper up, paper down.
Minutes, hours.
Where does the time go?
It is swallowed by the paper
With the fuzzy edges.


********

I have a new student. She loves paper and trash. Any scrap or tatter of anything becomes her treasure. She collects the pieces in her tiny fist until she has a quiet moment alone. Then she drops each one from a height a few inches above her head, watching it flutter down to the ground. Within two minutes, she dismantled an entire brand-new pad of PostIts. I think she could probably do it for hours, if she weren't interrupted. If she weren't pulled into my world to do tasks that are more "acceptable." She would probably be happy, just getting lost in the paper.

What are YOU watching?

I have a new obsession. It takes all of my extra time. All of my free moments. I used to think "I should blog about this!" but now I think "I should find a video clip of that!"

Everything you can imagine is there. And there is more of it added every day!

Today on YouTube:

I found some clips of a man who shares different therapies that have been effective with his autistic son. As a teacher of special needs kids, I appreciate a visual demonstration of things I have read about! And this is also a great resource for parents of kid's with autism who are doing training at home. What an awesome use of technology!

See, it's not all Diet Coke and Mentos (althought, that is fun, too)!

Overheard

If you were a fly on the wall of our bedroom this morning at about 2, this is what you would have heard:

A delicate, breezy, lady-like snore. (That is me.)

A loud, obnoxious, punch-you-in-the-side snore. (That is Daniel.)

All of a sudden, his cell phone rings. Blares. At TWO FREAKIN' A. M.

But it isn't just any ring:

Wanna be a BALLer!
Shot caller!
Twenty-inch blades
On the Impala...

At the loudest possible volume.

I elbowed Daniel and said, "Gitchafone!" with my face buried in my pillow.

He lumbered out of bed and over to the dresser, where his phone was flashing lights, blasting tunes, and registering on the Richtor scale with its vibrations.

"H'lo?"

(silence)

"Uh, no. S'okay. W'sup?"

(silence)

"I dunno. I don't think we have any heroin."

(Again, in case you didn't read it right the first time, he said: "I DON'T THINK WE HAVE ANY HEROIN.")

(silence)

"Yeah. I'll have to see if I can get some tomorrow."

(silence)

"I'll get back with you."

(silence)

"A'ight. Later."

That is disturbing on so many levels. Most importantly, it is disturbing that my slumber got interrupted. Oh, yeah, and the middle-of-the-night drug deal is a little concerning as well.


****** Edit: Apparently, I wasn't clear enough on the situation in our home. Daniel works on a Street Crimes Unit for our local police department. They do narcotics investigations, among other things. The caller was a co-worker who was inquiring about a test kit for heroin, since he had gotten some drugs off of someone. But, apparently, we don't have any heroin (test kits) and Daniel will have to find some (heroin test kits) at a later date. In any other home, that conversation would have been unsettling, but here, it is just part of life.

Vocabulary practice

Dillon learned a new word. It is "mine" and sounds a lot like this:

"MMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG!!!"

You jealous yet?

Cold comfort

When the weather is cold and drizzly, and you are wearing sweatpants, a heavy shirt, and thick socks, but you are still cold to the core cause you decided that THIS was the day to weed the yard, a good thing to do is have some comfort food.

I chose plain quesadillas. Just tortillas and cheese, heated on a griddle with some spray butter. Then I cut them up with my Kitchen Scissors (which I love cause they are only used to cut food, and they make perfectly straight cuts, and how fun is that?) and put them on a plate. Then I ate them while they were still too hot. Tearing small pieces with my fingers and chewing them up while I was huddled on the couch under a blanket.

Sounds nice, right? Perhaps my obsession with food as a cure-all is the reason I can't fit into my Skinny Jeans.

How fun, Tracey!

Get yours here.

Changing of the guard

For about the fifth time in his short life, Dillon is changing babysitters. To put it mildly, that really sucks. Trusting someone to watch your child for the majority of their day is a huge thing. To keep having to find someone new to trust really bites.

We have been fortunate to have wonderful private sitters who watched Dillon and other kids in their home. However, long term commitment seems to be the big issue here. I don't blame them! I would not be sane if I had to watch mine, and other people's, children all day for a few dollars an hour. Not worth it.

We decided to go with a daycare.

I drove over to THE daycare in town Tuesday afternoon right after babysitter #4 told me she was entertaining thoughts of going to work. I am no fool. "Entertaining thoughts" means that she already has a job and is probably starting next Monday.

At the daycare (not the only one in town by far, but an established one with a great reputation), an older lady sat behind a desk in the front office. She invited me in kindly and listened to my story.

Clutching Squirmy Dillon, I spilled my guts about The Demise of the Private Sitter. After listening, she furrowed her brow and said sternly, as if I had planned to be so lackadaisical about my son's care: "You know we have a waiting list. We probably can't get him in till at least June. And no place in town has an opening for someone his age."

Well. Gimme a ray of hope here.

My heart sank. Squirmy Dillon squirmed right out of my lap and toddled around her desk.

I told the lady to put us on the waiting list, and to please call if she had an opening sooner than June. Dillon peeked around the corner at her. He laughed and tugged on his fleece cap. "Babagabedeeededdedebeeegaga," he said seriously.

The woman laughed, and commented on his round, pink cheeks.

Then she said, "Lemme see what I can do. Maybe we can get him in sooner. He sure is cute."

Stunned, I gave her my information and left.

She called today, and asked me to come back this afternoon to tour the classes. Of course, I went over right after school. I put on lipstick in the car and smoothed my hair, cause it was drizzling outside. She met me at the door.

"Where's the baby?"

"Oh, he's still at the sitter's. I figured this would be easier... um..."

She was lasering me with her eyes. "It would be nice if you had brought him. I want to see him in the classroom!"

I tucked my tail between my legs and scurried to the car. I went to the babysitter's to get Dillon. I wiped his nose and tied his shoes. I put a fresh diaper on him. I felt so nervous for him. It was almost like an audition.

Thirty minutes later, my hair was frizzy and my lipstick was off. But Dillon was in a fine mood, and was ready to turn on the charm.

Ms. Baby Interviewer let us in the office. "THERE he is! Look at that face. He is so happy! Let's go see the classroom. Oh, come here sweetie!" She lugged Dillon around and I followed, clutching my purse.

She put him down in the classroom and let him play. She took him outside to show him the playground. "He is so good natured!" she exclaimed.

"Umhmmmm..." I said, not sure of what you are supposed to say. I almost wanted to start the circus routine of tricks:

"Dillon! Where is your belly? Where IS it? Show me! Good! There it is! There it is! You are so smart! Now, where are your ears? Ears! YEAH! Those are your ears! Good. Now turn in a circle! Hop on one foot! Lick your elbow!"

He seemed to have passed with flying colors. Ms. Baby Interviewer gave me a packet of information and told me she would call me tomorrow. She is pretty sure she will have a spot available for him on the 29th.

I have learned something. Dillon did audition today. Here is the way it works, probably EVERY TIME they have a new applicant.

First, she told me there was a huge waiting list to instill some fear and panic. She saw that Dillon wasn't ill-behaved, and he is pretty cute to look at. Plus, she found out that I have a steady job that gets out early in the afternoons. This started looking better to her. She dangled the carrot of a possible opening in front of us. Today, Dillon and I came back. She saw that he is pretty well-behaved and cute on two different days of the same week, and so it wasn't just a fluke. She "pulled some strings" and found a spot for him. Now I feel indebted to her, and will never complain or inconvenience his caretakers because I am so grateful for the sacrifice they made on my behalf.

Yeah, we got played. But I don't care.

He is worth it.

Who did that???

Who decided that licorice was a fruit, so that when I am eating a healthy snack of jelly beans, and enjoying all the fruity goodness, and I bite into a licorice jelly bean, my entire morning is ruined because that bite tasted like bitter tar???

Songs of me

Some songs just resonate with me. Certain ones fit my personality, and my quirks and moods. I have been piddling (that is code for "purchasing music") on iTunes this evening, and I have come up with some songs that are all about ME! Don't you wanna know?

1. Unwell/Matchbox 20 - Oh, come on! You aren't surprised are you? Because this is me. Hang out with me for a while, and all is good. Hang out with me too long and you begin to question my sanity. But I'm not crazy. Just a little impaired.

2. Always be my baby/Sarah Evans - If I hear this on the way to school in the mornings, you can bet that when I park my car, I will stumble blindly into the parking lot, snotting all over my pretty school clothes and wailing about Dillon. Cause he is my Little Man, and he makes my heart smile. (See Song #1 for reassurance.)

3. Brickhouse/Commodores - Every woman feels like this is her theme song occasionally, right? Like when, by some freak accident, you fit into your skinny jeans, and your hair is done, and you have makeup on ALL AT THE SAME TIME. And you know you look good, right? Hum this song. It doesn't happen often, and it is good to be a brickhouse. That is way better than vinyl siding.

4. Miss Halfway/Anya Marina - Want a commitment? Um, how about a "sort-of commitment?" I'm your girl! I am only halfway done with this list and I am ready to quit.

5. If you want me to/Ginny Owens - This song is so inspiring. Written by a woman who lacks sight, but not insight, her music is such an honest testament to growing in faith.

6. Sugar, we're going down/Fall Out Boy - I have no idea what this song is about, so don't ruin it for me. I imagine myself running miles listening to this song. But I am sure it sounds just as good when I am sitting on the couch.

7. Ridin'/Chamillionaire and Krayzie Bone - This is Dillon's favorite song. He runs away when we try to change his diaper, and he knows we are always tryin' to bust him ridin' dirty.

8. Mr. Wendal/Arrested Development - Come on, guys! He is homeless! And he has so many lessons to teach us! $2 is just a snack for me, but it means a big deal to him! Really, I remember owning this cassette tape, so I love to hear it.

9. Cowboy, Take Me Away/Dixie Chicks - This is for that part of me that is still a little romantic. I married the runner-up for Least Romantic Man Ever, so I dare not indulge in too much fantasy. So I will limit it to this one song, crooned by some Sista's with Voices.

10. Someone special/Higglytown Kids - I hum this song under my breath when it is not even on television. I sing it just to see Dillon bend his knees and "drop it like it's hot," as only a toddler can. I make up new verses for way funnier professions than "Mechanic" and "Dog Trainer." Yeah, this little ditty definitely makes the list.

12. Amanda/Don Williams - My daddy used to play this record album for me - he in his recliner, me in my little wooden rocker. It made me feel like the most special girl in the world.

13. This mystery/Nichole Nordeman - Man, I just love everything she sings. I can't even pick one song. She has a beautiful voice, plays the piano like nobody's business, and she writes her own stuff! I could spend a LOT of money just on her music.

14. Mo' Money, Mo' Problems/Notorious B.I.G. - I just really like to sing the Diana Ross part, and you can't tell me that this song doesn't make you want to dance. (If it doesn't then maybe something is wrong with you. In my opinion.)

Is that enough? A baker's dozen plus one? I am sure I will think of about a million more songs for My Album, probably when I am trying to fall asleep tonight. What are your songs? You might think of some I forgot about!

What goes up, must come down

We took down Christmas decorations today. It felt a little late in the season, but it was the first time Daniel and I had coordinated our energy levels since the official holidays were over.

I packed up all the inside stuff, except for a few things that I left out "just for fun" so I could find them the minute the attic door closed with all the Christmas tubs safely put away. (Come on! You know you do it, too! Who says you can't have reindeer candle holders out in March?)

After I finished my duties, I went out to help Daniel put away the outside lights. I was rolling up lights and Dillon was behind me on the front porch.

(Go ahead and start humming the scary-movie-Jaws-theme-type music.)

Dillon (not so proficient on his feet) took some steps toward me. I (also, not so proficient on my feet) turned to help him. It was too late.

He flipped off the porch, fell down the three steps, landed with a solid CRACK on his forehead, slid down the pavement on his eyebrow, and came to rest on his shoulder.

(Now count to three and listen to the blissful silence.)

Cue an ear-piercing scream. Everything else is drowned out, which is good, because I don't remember what I said.

I scooped him up and ran inside. We walked around, both howling, for a minute, then we sat down on the floor so I could survey the damage.

An angry red scrape was puffing up across his temple. He had a little blood in his eyebrow, and pink streaks down his cheek. A knot the size of a quarter was coming up near his hairline. He calmed down and started playing with his puzzle.

I just watched him. All evening. During dinner. During his bath. At bedtime. His scrape had crusted over, and the knot on his head had turned purple. But he had forgotten all about it. He had moved on to other things like whether or not he would get to take his soccer ball into his crib.

I tucked him in, and he gave me a sleepy smile. Kids are resilient, right?

Could I borrow some of that resiliency?

Is that all?

I have 400 posts! Hm. Shouldn't it be more than that? I did post every single day for a whole month, didn't I?

Oh well. Happy 400th post, Upheaval!

Words of wisdom

Dillon is talking up a storm. From the time he opens his eyes in the morning until he curls up to go to sleep, he has a running monologue. I know I am going to forget all of this early babble. It will melt into some understandable set of words, then into sentences. Then he will be telling stories and these sweet little exclamations and questions will be long gone.

I held him on my lap tonight before I tucked him in. We had finished reading our stories, and we were listening to his lullaby bear. He twisted around and gave me a hug. His legs dangled on either side of me. His head rested on my shoulder. He is so big! How did he get this big?

Time has never flown as it is flying now. And I am going to forget all of these words! So I am writing them down, and maybe they won't ever go away.

Dictionary of Dillon

January, 2007

Wizzy-DOH? (Where's the dog?)

Wizzy-BA? (Where's the ball?)

Wizzy-Dah-DEEEEE? (Where's the daddy?)

Dow. Dow!!!! (I want down from my highchair, now, please.)

Mmmm. (That was a good fake bite you gave me!)

Muh. (I want some more, and you won't give it to me till I say "Muh.")

Mah! (Mine!)

DAH! Dah. Dah. DAH!!! (That is my sock! Sock. Sock. SOCK!)

Doo. (Shoe.)

Oh, oh. (Uh-oh!)

Bye! (Either we are leaving, or someone is leaving, or I heard someone say this on the phone, or I am climbing down from the bed, and these are all appropriate times to say "Bye!")

Hobby Lobby: An Outlet Store, or Just First-Hand Junk?

You know how some people have categories on their blogs? Like "Baby Stuff" and "Rants" and "My Battle Against Foot Odor?" Well, I think I need categories now.

I have blogged so many times about Hobby Lobby that they deserve their own category on my blog.

I went in today to scout their Christmas leftover sale. It is up to 66% off now, which is not much cheaper than it was three weeks ago, but I thought I would look.

Every single item on the Christmas aisles was broken. Or scratched. Or damaged. It was like shopping at an outlet store. I looked around for a sign: "Some items have flaws and minor imperfections that lend character to these unique treasures!"

But it wasn't there. No sign. Just a jumble of pitiful Christmas leftovers. And don't tell me that it would have been better if I had gone right after Christmas. The quality of stuff in that store just irks me.

That is my complaint for the day.

That, and the fact that I found spiky black hairs in my cute pink razor this morning. But I think I will have to take that up with someone else.