Letter to a Middle School Parent

Mommas and daddies of middle-schoolers, I have to tell you something.

We pretend like the first day of kindergarten was the hardest first day.

We pretend like those tears we shed were just a one-time thing, and that it’s just because they’re so small and vulnerable.

That’s a lie.

Listen, we know how hard it is to send your vulnerable not-always-little guys off to a building with 1000 other vulnerable kids just like yours. It may even be harder than that time you discreetly wiped tears as your 5-year-old ran to climb the huge orange slide. 

Because so many of our 5-year-olds knew what they wanted out of life, at least that day, and that was enough. They were looking for fun, they were looking for knowledge, they were looking for friends. And many of them just knew that those things were waiting for them on that playground. That kindergartener knew that his answers were right, that her parents loved her, and somehow that friends would miraculously appear. Even if he wasn’t sure, you could be sure for him. You knew that, even if not right away, she'd make friends, letter sounds would click, and she'd do great. You may not have thought you knew that, but, you did. Deep down, you knew your kid would eventually learn to read, with very few exceptions to that rule. Sure, we worried, but we really figured it would all work out in kindergarten. But now, your sweet little boy or girl knows that school can be hard, and friends come and go, and that when they're gone, it hurts. She knows about insults and rumors. He is so unsure of everything, and nothing you can say can bring back that 5-year-old confidence you once admired. What's worse, is you no longer have that deep-down assurance. 

Like your child, your fears have grown. They're bigger and hairier and maybe even an octave lower. It's not a matter of "Will the other kids let him play tag?" anymore. Now it's school shootings, and bullying, and suicide, and sex. And even when it’s not those, it’s the right friends, and for your kid, the right clothes, and suddenly that’s a puzzle you can’t decipher.

Look away from that hairy fear. I want you to look over here at me, your kid’s teacher.

What you need to know is that we know. And we care. 

We know how hard it is. For you and your kid. 

We know what it's like to walk down those halls, lockers slamming, basketball players rushing past, girls snickering, and wonder what planet you fell onto, and how to survive. 

We may not know what it's like to watch your child walk through those big double doors, but we try to imagine (and some of us do know). 

We know which kids are quieter and have a hard time finding friends.

We know which kids are louder, but are really insecure.

We know they struggle with concepts that are beyond them for a time. 

We know they’re just trying to figure out who they are and where they stand. 

We know they’re stranded somewhere between kids and teenagers, a place our culture doesn’t acknowledge.

We know the cool kids in middle school are often the worse off as adults. 

We know all these things because we care about them.

We care for them because we want so many things for them.

We want them to succeed.

We want them to be people who have compassion for each other, who not only see, but fight for the underdog.

We want to see them figure out that they have a talent for something, and how to make it grow. 

We want to protect them, and keep them safe from all types of harm. 

We will never care or watch as carefully as you do. Maybe that's good. This is an early step of the process to becoming an adult who does all of these things outside the view of his guardians. They have to learn how they will stand when you're not there. But, for now, when you're not there, they're not alone. They have us. Watching them, cheering them on, fighting for them to accomplish the challenges that necessarily are put in their way. 

You remember how hard it was to walk away from that small human that first day of kindergarten? It might actually be harder to drive away from a middle school, knowing what awaits them inside. But, just like back then, they have a teacher - or 6 or 7 - who is waiting for them with a smile, hoping to calm their fears and create a safe place to become the teenager they will soon be. 

One more thing. This letter isn't only for you. It's for me. See, we teachers are sometimes parents too. We see your kid walk in our room, and we see our own. This week, I dropped off a kindergartener and a middle-schooler, (and a 2nd grader for the first time in public school, and a 4th grader who hated public school, and a preschooler for the first time - momma's gonna need a good cry), and I had that same feeling of entrusting my very heart to another person each time.

Relax, mommas and daddies, myself included. They're in good hands. 

A middle-school teacher

Another Conspiracy About Frozen

Warning: Spoilers! (if you live under a rock or something, haven't seen it yet)

Most of you have, by now, heard that Frozen is not a beautiful film about real true love, but it is, in fact, a huge marketing ploy to make our children gay.

First off, I believe those people are entirely welcome to their opinion. I believe that we all bring our own bias to everything we encounter. We interpret these things through the lens these biases give us. If you're hyper-focused on how homosexual marriage is ruining America, you'll see gay propaganda. If you're struggling in your faith, trying to sort how the religious zealots claim to worship the same God who keeps telling you to love, you'll see a similar struggle.

So, if we're going to throw around theories that are entirely based on our own biases, I have a new one for Frozen. 

Elsa's curse is religion.

It's important to note that I'm saying religion. Not a denomination, not a belief, or faith, even. Religion. To me, religion is the rules, the specific doctrines that separate us into factions, the "shoulds" and "should nots." It's the thing that causes us to think we are the only ones who could possibly be right. In short, I think Religion is of the devil.

Near the beginning of the movie, Elsa was just trying to help her sister with her powers, and inadvertently hurts her. If we're honest with ourselves, most of us, at one point, have tried to help someone with our knowledge of their sin, or what they need, only to actually hurt them.

When Anna is taken to the trolls to be healed, Grampa Troll says, "You're lucky it wasn't her heart. The heart is not easily changed, but the head can be persuaded." [this is probably my favorite line in the entire movie]. This is how Religion affects us, when it's deeply entrenched in ourselves, when it's become a part of who we are, it's so hard to remove the negative parts of it. If you take religion, and bury it in your heart (not love, or Christ, but religion), define yourself and your worth by having chosen the right one, it's hard to separate the Lover of the Soul from that Religion. If Religion is just something in your head, it's easier to release, although still difficult. He also tells her that her power has beauty, but that it can hurt as well. I was not shocked by Young Elsa's fearful response. I was shocked by her parents' response though (well, except for the fact that it pushed the plot along). Why did they only see the bad? Why didn't they just teach her to use her powers and control them? Encourage her? Provide safe limits? So many times, Religious parents think that all they have to do is shelter their children, and they'll be safe. Yet, the sheltering itself can hurt, as we see for both Anna and Elsa. Anna leaps into the arms of the first person who accepts her, and Elsa shuns everyone. Our Religion can have different effects on different people. We need to teach and show our children how to work things out about their beliefs. Show them reliable places to look for answers; show them our struggles. We can't rely on others to show us how to define our own beliefs. They don't have our biases. They can't tell us how to think. We've got to figure it out on our own.

When Elsa realizes she "can't control the storm inside," she runs off to be alone, and revels in the beauty her curse/power can create. While it may be harmful to other people, she benefits from her powers. She abandons her community, before they have the chance to abandon her. She realizes it's a part of who she is, and if she has to be lonely to be true, then so be it. I've felt this. I've thought about how I don't want to hurt people with my faith or my Religion (when I was unable to separate the two), so I'll just keep it to myself. If it doesn't hurt anybody else, and provides me with comfort, and the ability to see beauty in a desolate place, then that's enough for me. Still, I sometimes don't let people in, just because I'm sure they'll shun me because of the faith, or lack of faith, I hold inside. I run to my hiding place and say "the cold never bothered me anyway" - I don't need them.

Then, when Elsa sees she hasn't escaped the curse of hurting people, she gets angry and sad, loses all control, and hits her sister right in the heart, accidentally. When all we know is religious rhetoric, and we that's all we have to allow us to relate to people, or to help them, we are unable to actually help them. We can only hurt.

Then, there's a search for true love, which is not in all the places Disney previously told us it would be. In fact, it's found when one person offers her life for another's. Hmmmm, where have I heard that theme before?

Suddenly, Elsa realizes the key to controlling this power is love. She unleashes her love, and uses it to temper her power. When she does this, she is able to use her power to help people, but she's not a slave to the power itself. She can hold hands with her sister again. She's not afraid to touch people for fear of hurting them. She can have relationships. She's no longer lonely. Oh, this! When we let Love temper our Religion, we take it from a big, powerful Proper Noun, and make it into a common noun, religion, available to everyone (can't help it. I'm a linguistics nerd). When we allow Love to flow outward and inward (because Elsa accepts herself in this moment as well), we are not lonely. We don't have to be afraid anymore. (is anybody else singing?)  Now, we can actually help people.

And, the bad guys in Frozen?

The bad guy in the story was not the one who was struggling, but the one who was greedy and deceptive. We see all along that Elsa doesn't want to hurt people. When Hans shows us his true nature, suddenly we see all his actions for what they were. ("I've found my place" ugh! jerk!) If only we had noticed it earlier!

The minor bad guy was the one looking for sorcery and evil, determined to find it even when it wasn't there. (side-eye at people who see gay propaganda in children's movies)

Oh, oh, oh! Have you heard of the huge hit song "Let It Go"? You know, the one with the line "be the good girl you always have to be"? Yeah, there's no way you can convince me that that isn't about being a good, little Christian girl. (Side note: when she lets go of that, she gets to wear cooler clothes! yes, they happen to be more revealing. big deal if you ask me! just more proof, honestly. "I don't care what they're going to say!")

Do I think any of this crossed the creators' minds as they brought Frozen to life? Perhaps. If they've had similar experiences to mine. At the same time, a gay person might think of when they decided to come out when they belt out "Let It Go" in the car. Or, someone who was abused could think of when they finally escaped their torture and chose to move forward. A creator may have felt the words of that song rang true for any number of reasons. That's sorta the point of music, and even movies, to an extent.

Obviously, this isn't going to be a perfect allegory. Mainly because I made it up.

We will always see what we look for. 

Do you have any other crazy interpretations of Frozen?

Birth Story: #5

It had been weeks. Weeks of that same annoying, sometimes painful sensation. Weeks of the same hope, rising, despite my resolution to not get excited. Weeks of wondering, waiting. Weeks of exhaustion and painfully swollen feet and ankles.

It was September, and I was full-term pregnant with my 5th baby in 8 years. I wanted nothing more than to have that precious little baby out of my body. People said things to me like, "Oh, once she's out, you'll wish she was back in." I just stared at them with dead eyes when they said that. This was not my first rodeo. I hate being pregnant. There's about 27 minutes of the entire pregnancy that I enjoy. I actually enjoy labor and birth more. With labor and birth, the end is nigh. The pain is intense, but it will be over soon. And, every single time, I've told myself, "If you just get through this one, you don't ever have to do this again." This time I meant it. Just as much as I did last time, but this time my husband had a better doctor.

So, on September 18th, when I started feeling that tightening of muscles again, I told myself I wouldn't believe it. I didn't even tell my husband. I told him I was going to bed early because I was tired. He looked at me funny - it wasn't his first rodeo either - and asked if he should start cleaning the house for the midwife.

We were planning to induce the next day. I don't really remember my due date - either because she was my 5th baby, or because I know it's just a wild estimate of one day within a month of possible days, I don't know. I think I was pushing 42 weeks though. Maybe 41+3? Either way, I had no qualms about inducing. My sweet midwife had been putting me off for several days. At the time, I believed her stories, but now, I think she was testing me to see if I could try to wait just one more day, just one more day.

The day before, on September 17th, we were going to induce, and another midwife - who is now a friend - called me and said she hadn't seen Sherry in awhile and wanted to take her out and could I please, please put off trying to induce labor. I said yes, and then hung up and cried and cried.

I don't know for sure, but I think that Sherry knew that I needed to wait, and she wanted to see how badly I wanted to induce. I'm so glad she did. Whether it was Sherry's brilliance, or just that things working out the way they were intended, I'm so thankful.

We couldn't induce on the 18th because that was a Sunday, and my husband was a pastor. Not happening. So, it was supposed to be Monday sometime.

Sunday night, as I had the same contractions, I also had the butterfly feeling that this was really, truly IT. I knew it in my heart, but I refused to believe it. I laid down and tried to sleep.

Of course, I had to pee. 10 minutes later, I had to pee again. I thought, "That's weird. Even for a hugely pregnant girl!" I began to realize that I was "peeing" a little with each contraction. Could my water have broken?

That may sound like a weird question for a mama who's already birthed 4 kids - 3 of them naturally, 2 in her own home, where surely she'd be aware of her water breaking... right?

My water had never broken on its own before. Kids 1, 2, and 4 all had the water broken before going into "real" labor, because I was miserable and wanted to speed things along. Kid 3 had the water broken as he was crowning. He might have been born in the caul (on a full moon! lol), but the midwife asked if she could apply pressure to the bag of waters, in order to make delivering him easier. He still has the world's largest head, and I'm not inclined to believe superstitions, so I'm immensely glad she did that. I had discussed in length with Sherry about how maybe my body just needed my water to be broken. I was ok with that.

Except, looking back, I realize that this time, my body did it all on its own. I needed no help to bring her here, only hands to help catch her. That is something so empowering, so thrilling, I have no words. This body is not broken. It can do things I didn't even believe it could do. To be clear, I did not think my body was broken, not in the least. But to realize its power, its strength, was beyond what I assigned to it, based on my fears, was one of the best lessons I've been given in this life.

Back to that night. I told Scott to call the birth tub lady, and maybe the photographer. I already knew the tub could be set-up for a day or two with no issues, so I felt comfortable with that. I was texting my midwife. I still didn't want to believe that it might really be that I was in labor, and just be disappointed again. I didn't want to call all these people in my house to have them look at me, them patient, but me feeling as if I should be progressing. I believe that's why #4 was born so early (37 weeks). Perhaps, if I had waited to call people, it might have been days or weeks before her birthday. I decided that this is what these birth professionals are paid for, they were used to that aspect of their job, and, moreover, they were women that cared about me, and would not be mad even if they drove all the way to my house for a false alarm. I told Scott to go ahead and call the photographer.

I stood in the shower, still unsure if my water had actually broken, despite gushes of water with each contraction. I couldn't stand anywhere else, even, except in the shower. Thankfully, it was the perfect place. I laid my arms on the bathroom counter, my head on my crossed arms and swayed my hips from side to side to get through the contractions. Scott mostly left me alone, which was what I wanted. I eventually moved to the bedroom floor, on hands and knees, no longer worrying about amniotic fluid on the carpet. At some point, Naomi (the birth tub lady, and also a doula, and midwife-in-training), asked if she could set up the birth kit. She put one of the chux pads (they look exactly like puppy house training pads), under my knees. I continued to sway, and continued to text Sherry. She asked if she needed to come now, I wasn't sure, but I couldn't text her back because a contraction was coming. After that contraction, I figured, if I couldn't text through the contraction, it was probably a safe time for the midwife to come over. It was about 11:30 , I believe, and I had finally accepted that I was in labor.

Naomi came in my room and said that the tub was set-up, but it didn't have much water in it. I could still get in, because at least it would be warm, and maybe provide some comfort. Scott helped me walk out to the living room where it was set up. As I walked out, I said, "Hi" to the photographer, who was mostly a Facebook friend. It was awkward for about 13 seconds, and then it was just fine. I'm so glad she got these pictures for us.

I took one look at that tub, with its walls as high as my hipbones and told Scott simply, "There's no way." before leaning on something in front of me for another contraction. I knew Scott was starting to get nervous, but Naomi just continued about her business, and cooed things like, "You're doing great, mama." "Gooooood." "Good breaths. Just breathe that baby out." Naomi was not even my doula, but I will forever love her for those words of encouragement. (Ladies, you want a doula. I promise. They will be so much more level-headed than your husband, and often, know exactly what to say, by some gift of womanly intuition.) Scott rubbed my back, and put the icepack on my lower back, where I always feel the brunt of contractions.

I have photos somewhere without the watermark. But, I don't know where they are, and I don't mind giving a shout-out to my amazing birth photographer! 

After awhile of this, I told Scott, "You're going to have to catch her, because she's coooooooooommmmiiinnng." That last word was caught up in a contraction-starting-to-push-moan. I heard him say, "uhh... uhh..." and I could tell he was frantic, and looking around, for what, I don't know. Maybe Sherry, who lived a good 45 minutes from our house.

Let me pause again to say, my husband was 100% on board with my homebirths. But, he had told me he had no interest in catching, and no interest in cutting the cord. He was absolutely fine with that. My best friend cut the cord with #4.

I just said over and over to myself, "Naomi is here. She's a doula. She's experienced. She won't let my baby fall on the floor. She won't let my baby fall on the floor."

My body started to push on its own. I moaned through the contractions. Some part of my brain said, "I can't do this." A louder part of my brain responded, "Of course you can." It was at that moment that I fully understood the power of my thoughts for the first time.

As I was pushing, I was aware of Scott behind me. Next, Tiffanie, the other midwife, arrived, and I began to feel more comfortable starting to push. I was trying to push slowly, because I always tear, after that first episiotomy. Then, I heard my front door opening, and Sherry's voice behind me almost immediately. She arrived just in time to catch the baby. She held her through to me, and said, "Meet your baby." I picked her up, and just like all the others, said, "Hi! Oh! Hi baby! It's so good to see you!" and then to the people around me, "I did it! I did it!" I remember Tiffanie being closest, and her warm smile as she said, "Yes! You did!"

  This time, we had only just barely chosen a name, so I looked at her, and asked her what her name should be. She confirmed that the name we had chosen hours earlier was the perfect one. It was one I had liked since we first started thinking about names.

#1 had asked us to see #5's birth. She had seen #4 be born. She was upset we didn't wake her until after baby girl was born, but she immediately fell in love. 

As I've mentioned, I feel like all my births have taught me things. This birth taught me to trust my body, and at the same time, that I have control over my thoughts. I can't even imagine my life without those important lessons. Thank you baby girl!

Happy 2nd birthday!

Taken the night before her birthday. (Her sister cut her hair a few weeks ago.) 

I'm Going on a Diet! But It's Not What You Think.

Today is July 1st. That means the first half of the year is over. How is everyone doing on their New Year's Resolutions? Most of us have forgotten about them, much less accomplished close to half. I shared my New Year's Resolutions with you guys back in January. I'd say I'm doing ok on them. I'm definitely doing better at enjoying the moment I'm in and focusing on the little things. I've been reading a classic each month, although several times it's taken me into the next month to finish (still working on June's Little Women as we speak). That's fine with me. You guys know I absolutely haven't been writing as much as I wanted, and still want. to do. I'll keep working on it. I'm still fighting a writer's block that I can't seem to put my finger on, as well as battling the clock.

Now, the typical one - get healthier/lose weight. I haven't lost any weight this year, and it's been driving me crazy. I haven't exercised but once or twice in the last two months. But, I have been paying attention to a lot of fitness and health-related things. So, I've decided to go on a diet. A very strict, no exceptions allowed kind-of diet. If I mess up, I'll lift my chin, square my shoulders and do something to make up for the mistake I made. There will be no cheat days. No vacations. This diet will be in force every minute of every day, so that it will become my "normal." I will not set aside times to indulge. I know I'll slip up, but I'll get right back on track ASAP. If any of you are like me, you're thinking: that's ridiculous. You can't do a diet like that. You'll quit in a week, 2 tops. If I were talking about food, you'd be right (except that I wouldn't make it 2 weeks, ever.)

I'm going to go on a diet from negativity as it pertains to my body. (Notice I can't give up all negativity. Snark is just too much fun sometimes.) I am going to choose to see the positive. I'm going to love my body. This does mean that I'll make healthy choices, and I'll exercise. But those two things are not my only goal. My goal is to love this body, as is. I do want some physical changes to occur, because I am unhealthy. I believe I will become more physically healthy. More than that, I know that mental changes will occur. Before I spend any more time worrying about my physical health, I'm going to change my mental health. If nothing physical changes, then I'll be better prepared to make physical changes happen.

I'm going to be making a list of things that I like about my body. From the way it looks to the things it does. This body carried and birthed 5 babies. It can help other women to do the same. It can run. It can carry sleepy toddlers up the stairs and to their beds. It can prepare food for my family. It can swim. It nourished all my babies with breastmilk for varying amounts of time. It can hike up mountains. It can do yoga and dance and all sorts of other movements. It can clean the house. It can walk with the dogs. There are so many things it can do that are so much more important than what size pants it can fit into. [You might notice that list is all about what it can do. There aren't many things I like about the way my body looks. I love my hair, but that sorta seems like cheating when we're talking about loving your body. I'm going to change this. I'm going to discover things that I love about my body.]

So, for the next 6 months, I'm committing to speaking and thinking no negativity about my body. Going further, I'm committing to speaking and thinking positive things about my body. If I have a negative thought, I'm going to replace it with a positive one. I'm going to ignore shame-based "fitspiration" stuff like this (there are other, good images on that site, too, like this) and focus on loving my body as is, for what it can do right now (on my FB page I'll share a few other pages I like to follow). Additionally, I'm going to make sure my kids see that I love my body. One of them asked me recently when he would have to start thinking about losing weight. I can't describe how sad that makes me. He thinks that's just something that adults do. I want to model for them a healthy lifestyle, including loving themselves.

Part of loving my body, for me, has to be about making healthy choices. I feel better when I exercise and practice clean eating. That is one method for me to love my body. But, I will make no rules or lists or goals as far as what or how much to eat or exercise. I believe that once I have the freedom to make choices just because I want to, not because I should, that I will make the better choices and not be resentful about it. I may decide to track calories and nutrients at some point, because I don't think I get enough calories most days (any Weight Watchers leader will tell you that it's common among overweight people). For now, the only thing I'm restricting or changing is my perspective.

If you've been with me for awhile, you might have noticed that changing my perspective is sort-of a theme around here. I've been working on changing my perspective for a long time now, from the day I felt God told me "What you dwell on will become your reality," to changing the words I use and even the name of the blog. I've thought about it a lot as it relates to how I see things outside of me. Lately, I've really been convicted about the way I see myself. Now, I'm going to change that too. If someone gave me flowers, I wouldn't dream of saying they were ugly because they had thorns. I wouldn't dream of pointing out the small imperfection on one petal. I would relish their beauty, glossing over the imperfections as part of the beautiful whole. I would celebrate its petals and enjoy the purpose of its thorns. I'm going to give myself the same consideration as the rose. 

Anybody with me? Ready to start a diet for the second half of the year?

Less-Than-Crafty: Design Your Own Mug

Ok, so you've probably seen the Pinterest picture of a hand-designed mug, and it says something like, "Just write with a sharpie and bake at 350!" Right? This is my thought process the first time I saw that:

"OOH! I have tons of quotes I could put on mugs! Birthday presents for everyone! Christmas! With biscotti! YAY!

...

But who wants a mug with my chicken scratch on it?

(sigh of resignation)

I suppose I could pay $29.95 for someone on Etsy to custom make me one..."

So, days, weeks, months went by, and one day, it hit me! So, here's my tutorial for the less-than-cutesy among us if you want to design your own mug. Just in time for Teacher Appreciation Week! (I'm going to just apologize up front for the poor quality of the photos. I'll learn how to do better, I really will.)

Materials needed:

• Oven-safe mug (check thrift or dollar stores)
• Sharpie or Sharpie Paint Pen (I used the regular Sharpie, but I think the process is the same, check the paint pen packaging if you're unsure.)
• tape
• Computer with internet access and word processing software
• Printer and paper

1.Obviously, you have to choose your quote first.

If you know the gift-recipient's favorite book or author, you can go to www.goodreads.com and look for quotes. (Log in. Click the drop-down menu next to "Explore" and choose "Quotes".) For my sister's birthday, I chose the following quote: "Words are our most inexhaustible source of magic. - Albus Dumbledore" My sister is a writer, and a huge Harry Potter fan, so I knew this quote was perfect for her. [Technically speaking, the author of the book is who the quote should be attributed to, no matter what character says it. However, I knew hoped that my sister would agree that the quote is so much better coming from Dumbledore than J.K. Rowling.]

Don't forget to consider song lyrics, plays/movies, and poetry!
Some good quotes for teachers are:
A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops. - Henry Adams
The best teachers teach from the heart, not from the book. - Unknown {Can I change "book" to "test"??}
I am indebted to my father for living, but to my teacher for living well - Alexander the Great
It's easy to make a buck. It's a lot tougher to make a difference. - Tom Brokaw
They will never forget how you made them feel. - Maya Angelou
Teaching might even be the greatest of the arts, since the medium is the human mind and spirit. - John SteinbeckDisclaimer: The only one of these I fact-checked is the Angelou quote.

Ok, so that should have been the easy part.

2. Find a font that you like and download it. I usually use http://www.1001freefonts.com/ . It's got tons of fonts, and, they're all free (they named it really well, don't you think?). Follow the directions on the site to install it on your computer. This link has links to directions for different types of computers.  

3. Once you've chosen and installed, open your word processing software and write the quote in the font. 

4. Then, play with it a bit. Make important words larger than less-important words. You also have the option to  print out the different words separately and arrange them in that "subway" style, or to simply print them in a line. You can even use different fonts together like this style, or just change the font sizes like here. Look around on the internet to see different displays of quotations. BUT, this is important: if a product is for sale, do not simply rip it off. Use it for inspiration, but don't steal someone else's intellectual property. 

5. Print it out, and place it on the cup to make sure your size and placement are good. Use regular, old printer paper, or tracing paper if you have it. Do not use thick paper! If you're like me, you'll have to change things and print again a few times to get it the way you want it

6. Once you're certain you have the words where you want them, tape them onto the mug. You may choose to cut the paper into small strips and do one part at a time, so that the paper fits onto the curve of the mug. Again, play with it until you have it the way you want it. 

7. Use your sharpie to carefully color over the words. This should allow the sharpie to bleed through, faintly, onto the mug. In the picture above, I have just started to color the words. 

8. Carefully remove the paper and use the outline to fill in the words. Only peel off one section at a time, or tape a new, clean piece of paper over any words that your hand might touch while tracing. This will keep it from smudging. I left the top paper on while I did the bottom. Then, I retaped the bottom to trace the top. Set the paper you removed in front of you to refer to as you fill in.

As you can see, you only have an outline, but it should be enough to fill in without having to truly freehand the writing. 

After tracing

9. Once you have all your tracing done, you can erase any mistakes with a cotton swab and rubbing alcohol. 

10. This step is a little different than some of the Pinterest tutorials.  Set the mug in the oven BEFORE turning it on, and heat to 350*. When the oven is hot, let it "cook" for 30 minutes, and then turn off the oven, leaving the mug in there. Let it cool down in the oven. Let sit for 24 hours before washing. Gently handwash only. 

I gave my sister her present in December, and she says it still looks great! If you have any other helpful hints for this project, leave it in the comments! 

Going Solo

I'm planning a solo trip to Zion this weekend, to do some hiking, writing, and reading (and, let's face it, uninterrupted sleeping).

Two days of making decisions for only me, not sharing my food, listening to whatever music I want, and not handling other people's bodily fluids.

Two days of communion with my Maker, pouring out my soul on paper, thinking until my brain hurts, reading until my eyes ache, breathing fresh air, enjoying simple natural beauty, believing that my legs will get me just a little farther, to be rewarded with the views.

What are you doing for yourself this weekend?

P.S. My husband is encouraging me to do this, volunteering to keep all the kids by himself for over 48 hours. Isn't he amazing?

Coming Out...

I saw these two images this morning:

From The Federalist Papers

From Human Rights Campaign

So, I decided it's time for me to "come out," so to speak. As a Christian In Support of Gay Marriage. First, my reasons:

1. Our country, and our government, is founded on freedom. It is NOT founded on any one religion, despite what many Christians seem to believe. Our Constitution guarantees that all people have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. What's unwritten is that these guarantees are true regardless of the individual's beliefs, race, or sexual orientation. As a whole, we believe this phrase applies to all races now, although 150 years ago, you would hear much of the same argument we're hearing today. Simply, I believe in our Constitution, and I believe our Constitution would allow these rights to all individuals (with the obvious exception of protecting children, which, if you're interested in, I'll give you some resources for in a minute).
2. Aside from marriage falling under "the pursuit of happiness," do you realize that there are countless other issues that these couples must face?

• Homosexual couples are often denied the right to visit each other in the hospital, even with domestic partnership laws. A woman here locally was not allowed to have her partner with her while she was experiencing a miscarriage, and we have domestic partnership laws protecting that. Regardless of your dogma, a person should be able to have the person who loves and supports them the most in their time of need. 
• Employers are required to allow sick leave to take care of a spouse or family member. Individuals could lose their jobs by choosing to stay home for their partner. 
• They would  lose out on any financial benefits they would normally receive if their partner dies. For married couples, even without a will, the spouse gets many benefits automatically. 
• Taxes become incredibly complicated and expensive.
• Lots of things are more expensive: from legally changing your names to renting a car.
• For more, go here.

It's inhumane to deny consenting adults these things, regardless of your religious views. Martin Luther King, Jr, who is, I believe, one of the best preachers of our time, also said, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." 

Even if you disagree with my politics, here's one thing you can get behind: There are people, children, dying of disease, starving, and/or forced into slavery, including sexual slavery. Why are we wasting our time sticking our noses in other adults' personal lives, and not batting an eye at all the injustice in the world? 

I love these lyrics from Tenth Avenue North's song, "Losing": 

Why do we think that hate's gonna change their heart?

We're up in arms over wars that don't need to be fought

But pride won't let us lay our weapons on the ground

We build our bridges up but just to burn them down 

We think pain is owed apologies and then it'll stop

But truth be told it doesn't matter if they're sorry or not

The line that says "We build bridges up, but just to tear them down" - I thought it said, "We build bridges up, but You're tearing them down." I like that better. 

Christians, if you hear nothing else I say today, hear this: Hate will not change anything for the better. Love will. 

It doesn't matter if you believe homosexuality is wrong. What I'm saying is that it's worth it to protect all people's freedoms. Also, there are so many other things you can be spending your time and energy on that truly help people that need you. 

If you're interested in taking a stand against evil today, or any day, consider loving "the least of these."

Excellent organizations:  

• Compassion International  - "You can release a child from poverty in Jesus' name." There are many other child sponsorship groups; choose the one you're most comfortable with. I chose Compassion so that we could write to, and receive letters from, our sponsored child.
• A21 - "We exist to abolish injustice in the 21st century." (focuses on human trafficking)
• YoungLives - "In Young Life, we have the privilege of extending Jesus Christ’s love to kids as they are, where they are. For high school and middle school girls who are expecting or are raising a child on their own, that love takes the form of a program called YoungLives."
• Three Square - "55% of children in [Clark County School District] are enrolled in free and reduced-price lunch programs based on their income." Or, your local shelter. (Our church partners with Three Square and a local middle school to provide food to families in need. It's really amazing to see.)
• The Cupcake Girls - In Nevada and Portland, Oregon, they provide "non-judgmental support, consistent caring, and messages of faith, hope and love" to women working in brothels or the adult-entertainment industry. 

Some simple things you can do:

• When you buy chocolate or coffee, choose Fair Trade Certified. (More info, with videos for you auditory learners!) It's great to buy Fair Trade whenever possible, but these are two of the worst industries when it comes to enslaving children. 
• Love and support the people around you: the mom that's having a hard time, the newly widowed, the child who needs a little more attention (yours or not), the person struggling with their faith.
• If you can't make a donation of time or money, just "like" these groups on Facebook. Share their images and statuses, and make people aware that these things are happening. 
• Consider how you think and talk about people who are not like you. Is it loving? See here and here. 
• Stop. Being. Judgmental. (particularly about things that don't matter much) There are very few people in your life that you to whom you have the right to be judgmental. Pretty much just close family and close friends. These people may benefit from you pointing out something they might need to work on. Basically, if you wouldn't feel comfortable telling them they need to exercise more, you shouldn't feel comfortable telling them to change or believe something else. 
• Extend grace to all people - starting with you - your kids, your spouse, your friends, random Facebook people, that blogger, even that crazy politician from "the other side."

These are just a few options. What charities do you support? What do you do to make the world a more loving place? 

P.S. You're welcome to disagree with me respectfully. All comments must be approved before they are published. Hateful language will not be published. Respectful disagreements will be. Imagine you're at my house, talking with me, our friends, and my LGBT friends before you write. Because, basically, you are. :)

(Edited to add: I do think, however, that churches and clergy that do not believe gay marriage is right in God's eyes should not be forced to perform these marriages. I believe that should fall under freedom of religion.)

Super Easy Chicken Casserole

This is the meal that I make pretty much every time I jump on the casserole-making-wagon for a new mom, or someone fresh from the hospital. It's easy-peasy, I've never heard a complaint, there's little chance of allergic reaction, and NotPasta. It's super easy to throw together, and I almost always have the stuff on hand for it, mostly because you can substitute just about every part of it (you'll see).

I was planning on posting this later this week, but my buddy Beth asked for our favorite go-to meals in her 5 Questions post, and she also says that writing is like life, and rarely goes according to plan. So, here's my chicken casserole, today instead of later.

1. Take whatever size pan works for your family. I use a 9x9 for 2-5 people, a 9x13 for my family. 
2. Put chicken breasts in the bottom. These can be frozen, trimmed, whatever you've got available.
3. In another bowl, mix together one can of cream of something (chicken, celery, and mushroom all work) with a can of milk (refill the can with milk). If using a 9x13, you might want to use 2 cans. 
4. If you want, throw in a frozen veggie. We've used peas (the fave around here), broccoli, green beans, asparagus, and corn. 
5. Pour cream mixture over the chicken, making sure the chicken is covered. 
6. Top this with cheese. Monterey Jack is our fave, but we've also used Colby Jack and Mozzarella with good results.
7. Top the cheese with bread crumbs. Just enough to cover it. Unless you are my husband, who made this recipe recently. This is our conversation when I got home from work: Me: Wow, that's a lot of bread crumbs on top. Him: Yeah, but you normally use about half of a can, right? Me: Well, yes, but that's when we don't buy the can from Costco. (It still tasted good, so don't worry about the amount!) 
8. Cook @ 350 about 1 hour, longer if the chicken was frozen.

Seriously, my kids all love it. It's reasonably nutritious (more so if you're not using pre-made cream of chicken and bread crumbs, but do what works for you). It also works to freeze or refrigerate and cook later.  What more can you ask for from a casserole?

Update 4/2/13: I cooked this tonight, and decided to take a picture for this post. I went to get my camera, and came back to this!

I don't know.

This started out as a FaceBook post. It started simple.

My dad has cancer.

How simple and complex that one statement is! I knew I couldn't put just that, although that's the only thing that's been running through my mind. I know people will ask questions: What kind? What's the treatment? How are you doing? How are your parents doing? Can we do anything to help?

The first two answers are easy. It is thyroid cancer, and since he already had his thyroid removed, the next step is to do radioiodine treatment. Except for the skin cancer that I had a few years ago, it is the most treatable cancer, with the highest survival rate. He sees his doctor on Monday. We'll know more specifics about the treatment then.

The next question is the most difficult, because I really don't know how I'm doing. I've been processing for days. It's not real to me. Something as abstract as cancer can't possible hurt my daddy. 

My daddy, whom I still call when my husband is out of town and I hear a noise outside. My daddy, whom my sister called from California when she couldn't find her car. I'm sure she knew he couldn't help her in any other way than calm her down and talk her through it. It's just that... he fixes things. That's what daddies do, right? How can there be something he can't fix?

 I've never seen him fight anyone, or even play a contact sport. Still, he's not somebody you want to mess with. I remember how he could look at us from across the room - or **shudder** straight down from the pulpit - without saying a word, and we knew we had better change our behavior immediately. Not because he was going to hurt us (he's a pastor, most of the time we would have rather he spanked us than give us a lecture, trust me!), but because we knew that it was not acceptable. I've had grown men tell me that they had a crush on me in high school, but would never date me because they were terrified of him. This wasn't some punk kid, either. It was a good guy, one, who, at times, reminded me of my dad. My dad stands up when he feels something is wrong, and I don't know that I've ever seen him lose that fight. How can something I can't even see or feel or touch possibly hurt him? 

He and my husband are the 2 most godly men I know. I always seek both of their advice on anything serious. He's my favorite preacher. In a recent situation in our church, I thought he was making the worst mistake. He told us to wait, and let it work itself out. It did. With as minimal impact on our church body as one could expect. He's made mistakes. I know he's not perfect. But one of my favorite things about him is that when he knows he's made a mistake, he comes to you and apologizes. I don't agree with him on everything. But he let's me think what I think with only a small amount of teasing. (If you know my dad, you're smiling at that, because you know he just can't help himself.) How can something that God could control possibly hurt my dad? 

It could, theoretically, hurt him. ("It won't. It can't," my heart says, "Something like this can't hurt him.") I can't think about that. As far as God goes, I know he's not upset with God about it. As cliche as it sounds (and I hate cliches so it pains me to write this), maybe this is God slowing him down. My dad does not know how to slow down on his own. Maybe that's not it at all. Maybe God just allowed this to happen. 

For right now, the answer is as simple and complex as my original Facebook status: I don't know. I don't know how I'm doing. I don't know what will happen. I don't know how I'll deal.

I also don't truly know how my parents are doing, though they say they're doing ok with it all. In the end, they're still the parents, and I doubt they would let us know if they were truly worried. I understand that, even if I would like to know how they're really doing.

I also don't know what to tell you to do to help us. Pray for us. Love us. Hug us if we need it. That's about it. I'm sure there will be more things to do when my dad gets his treatment, so, if you're inclined, ask again, and we'll be more specific.

A few things I do know: I know that there is a loving church family here to support us, and family far away to support as well. I know that my heart is overjoyed and filled with gratitude for that. I do know God doesn't promise us that our lives will be full of rainbows and unicorns as Christians. So, we'll take this in stride, see where it takes us. We'll see how this changes our faith, how it affects our lives. I know that I'll learn something through this, as will the rest of my family. I know that nothing reaches us that doesn't go through God's hands. So, whether it's His idea or not, we'll take it and go forward. I know that I will look for the blessings in the journey we're taking. I'll seek out the joy in something that is difficult. By God's grace, I'll find that joy, show it to my children, and become better for it.

Help Me Be Good Enough!

I have some exciting news! I have decided to run the Disneyland Half Marathon on September 2nd! I'm so nervous and excited I could throw up right on my keyboard!

I'm nervous because:
What if I can't do it?
What if I'm not good enough?

I'm excited because:
Me, running a half marathon! {picture me, giddy, jumping up and down}

Running a half marathon is something I've wanted to do for all of my adult life. I've started running so many times, stopping all too quickly. Several of those times I stopped were after I got pregnant again. But, now I'm committed! I've been running steadily for 6 months. And {fingers crossed} shouldn't get pregnant again! (I'll never rest certain in that again, you know. Pastor Hubby can get a negative result 17 times, and I'll still be taking pregnancy tests a day early because I'm anxious.) And I need your help!

Remember my reasons for being nervous? Isn't that everybody's worry? What if I'm not good enough? Running makes me feel like I am good enough. After a run, I don't feel fat or lazy or stupid. I feel strong and powerful and ... enough.
I need you to tell me you think I can do it! You can do that below in the comments, and it will be amazingly helpful.

But, you can be even more helpful! "How?" you ask? "What on earth could be more helpful than the printed word, encouraging you to accomplish your goal?" You can put your money where your mouth is!

Donate to my website.
There's a little widget right there --------------->
that you can donate through. [All donations are secure and tax-deductible. You will receive a receipt at the email address you provide.]

Why will this help me? Your donation will help me in the same way that running for TNT helps me.

TNT stands for Team In Training, and it benefits The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, or LLS. LLS provides Patient Financial Aid Programs, Family Support Groups, and other education programs for schools, patients, and even politicians. My favorite thing they offer is a connection program that matches new patients with a trained volunteer who has gone through a similar experience (diagnosis and treatment), allowing new patients to ask questions and get answers from someone who's been there. One story I heard was of a woman who had decided she didn't want treatment because she didn't want to lose her hair. In speaking with her peer mentor, she found out that hair loss was not a side effect of her treatment. Simply, that peer counseling may have saved that woman's life! I believe in mentors. I know the effect they can have on a life. If LLS funded nothing else, it would be worth it to me. {but they do more!}

I've chosen to run with and for TNT because I can help people, and receive help in return! It's a win-win! LLS has committed that 75% of the money raised will go to supporting patients. I get to train with people with similar goals, be coached by real running coaches, and be cheered along every step of the way. I really have no reason to fail!

So, I'm asking you to add one more reason to win. Put a little money in. That's your way of putting your faith in me. Telling me that I can do this thing. This humongous thing that's been on the short bucket list I've got. (Bonus: I'll cross it off before I'm 30!) You will motivate me to run farther than I think I can on each training run because I know you're standing behind me, trusting that I can and will do it! I know how far we're stretching our dollars right now, and if you have the faith in me to donate some of that to LLS through me, I'll have to cross that finish line. And, honestly, if I don't raise the funds, I can't afford to do it alone.

In the very near future, I'll have short profiles of the "Honored Heroes" for whom I will be running. (sorry to sound all English teacher-y right there - "for whom" - but I just can't knowingly write it incorrectly.) These two people have fought blood cancer and have won their battles, and I'll be remembering their fight as I pound each mile into the ground.

I've committed to raise at least $2800. I'd actually like to raise at least $6000 and do Nike Women's Haf Marathon with them in October. I'd like to have the $2800 by June 20th. For the second, I'd need the other $3200 by August 10th.

What can you do to help me and anyone affected by blood cancer? (running with me is another option, you can find that information at the top of my TNT page!)

Not quite "Location, Location, Location"

We want to buy a house in the next 6 months or so. I've been pinning things to my "Dream Home" board on pinterest. Some things extravagant, and some not-so-extravagant.

So... Pastor Hubby and I are sitting here looking at potential houses to buy. Suddenly, while clicking through pictures, we see this big laundry room. I gasp loudly and say, "I COULD PUT A GREAT WALL OF LAUNDRY THERE!" He looks at me like I've finally, completely lost it and says slowly, "Nooo... We don't need a "Great Wall of Laundry." He didn't use air quotes or anything, but the quotation marks were in his voice. Trust me, I can hear them. I'm an English teacher. So I excitedly say, "No no no! We DO want one! Look!" and then took him to this post by a woman who understands my life (just take a look at the title of her blog!).

Now, being, well, Not-Me he's not nearly as excited as I am, so he made comments like, "So you just dump things in them?" and "But they get all wrinkly!" I told him he could continue hanging his own clothes (because I long ago stopped doing his laundry) and he hesitantly replied, "Oooookaaaay. I could get behind something like that." as if The Great Wall of Laundry was not The. Best. Idea. Ever.  Whatever. I am now only looking at houses that could possibly fit a Great Wall of Laundry.

So, my house list will look something like this:

1. Location/ School zone (you didn't think I'd take that off the list, did you? I'm a teacher, remember?)
2. Big backyard - is it too much to ask that it already have grass and a covered patio? because this mama has GOT to have a place to throw my kids where they can yell and scream and it be somewhat acceptable and in my line of vision. 
3. Great Wall of Laundry possible

Bedrooms-schmedrooms. My kids love "sleepovers" together. As long as I get my Great Wall of Laundry, I don't care.

So, that's it. A place for them to learn, and learn well. A place for them to run. And a place for the massive amount of clothes they require.

The Math of Parenthood

A lot of people think having 5 kids is exponentially harder than having 1 or 2 kids.

 In case you forgot your high school math, this is my explanation. (remember, I teach English!) 2x5=10 but 2^5, or 2 to the exponent of 5 = 32. People think that adding kids makes life exponentially harder. It really doesn't. The kids help. They play together. The act of adding one more chicken breast, or, let's be honest, one more box of macaroni and cheese, is not that much more difficult than what I was doing before. It does get harder, but not exponentially harder, the way most people think when they see us at the grocery store, with 2 full carts, 10 hands grabbing things, 4 sticky chins, and 7 voices saying or singing different things (2 of those voices are saying things like "Stop," "No," "In a minute," and "Please put your pants back on.")

Now, it might be exponentially louder. That has to be true.

There might be one time, though, that it is true, when having 5 kids is exponentially harder, not just 5 times harder - when a stomach flu hits the family. Unless you have 5 kids (or more), you can't fathom the amount of dread that runs through me when someone starts throwing up. It means at least one week of trash cans by beds, scrubbing floors, washing blankets, taking temperatures, making soup and buying gatorade. Unless it happens during the summer (which is obviously rare) or Christmas Break, it also means taking turns off of work. Of course, the days that you do work are exponentially more difficult themselves.

And, then, of course, there are the other kids, running and playing and not understanding why one of them gets to sit on the couch and pick TV shows all day. They want the smelliest food for lunch, prompting the sick one to vomit more. The younger ones will bump into, or even REACH INTO the barf bucket. Don't forget the vain attempt to keep the other kids from touching, eating after, or generally breathing near the sickie.

And all hell breaks loose if mom and dad get sick, especially {crossing fingers} at the same time. For some families, this is just if mom gets sick. Thankfully, Pastor Hubby is amazing and is great at doing the chores listed above. In fact, last night, my oldest came into my room (and turned on my light! what was she thinking?!) and said, "I threw up." A groan, not unlike those in early childbirth, escaped my body before I could stop it. That lovely man said, "You stay here and take care of her {the nursing baby} and I'll take care of that." I don't think I've ever loved him more. Seriously, I could hear him dry heave (he explained in the morning that it involved scooping) at times while he cleaned the top bunk, the wall, the lower bunk, and the floor, as well as tossing linens into the washer.

There comes a point in marriage that voluntarily scooping vomit is better than any amount of flowers.

There are a few other times that it might also be exponentially harder - going to theme parks, or if you're stupid ambitious enough to try to take them all to a doctor's office. The thing is, you can avoid those things. Or enlist family members to help. Nobody wants your sick and germy kids at their house. If the flu comes, you're just stuck. Stuck in a vomit-filled version of hell that you can't escape until it's made its rounds through the whole clan.

So, there you go. Having 5 kids is not exponentially harder unless you're vomiting or at Disneyland. Or, God forbid, both.

The Joy Dare Week 1

Go see this post to see what I'm doing. I started late, so some of these are what I remember this week, other days, I just substituted other gifts to be thankful for from the week. Next week, I'll write them down as I go, or more likely, use the app, so they'll be better, I'm sure. :)

January 1: 3 things about yourself that you are grateful for
January 2: A gift outside, inside, on a plate
January 3: 3 lines you overheard that were graces
January 4: one gift old, new, and blue
January 5: something you're reading, you're making, you're seeing
January 6: one thing in your bag, your fridge, your heart
January 7: 3 graces from people you love

1. Sight - I am so grateful that I can see all the amazing colors and sights, my children's smiles, their eyes lit up with joy.
2. Legs - I have always hated the way my legs look, but I am so grateful that they are legs that can run, bounce a child, chase a kid, kick a ball, pump a swing next to one of my children.
3. A newfound belief in the power of my thoughts - I'm still learning just how powerful the meditation of my brain is on my life.
4. Outside - watching my kids enjoy playing with their new Christmas toys
5. Inside - my whole family, hanging out for what may be the last time before my sister moves away
6. On a plate - ham and dumplins, it's my brother's favorite, I think just about every adult in the family helped with it a little, as we all gathered in my parents' kitchen. 
7. 1 - the 5yo to the 3yo: Oh, let me help you!
8. 2 - the 3yo to the 1yo: I'm in here! I'm in here! (they are best friends)
9. *not according to the list* my parents' living room full of people celebrating my sister's birthday
10. *not according to the list* a van-full of kids eating chocolate chip cookies
11. *not according to the list* a rent check, shelter, provision from God
12. *not according to the list* my daughter's resolution: to help at least one person feel better every day (she came up with that all on her own, and made my heart melt in awe and humility) 
13. Reading - this blog - which came perfectly on a day that I was wondering why on earth I felt so old! it's because I'm {go look at blog to figure out calculation, brain laughs that some other part of brain thought I could attempt such a thing, decide not to figure out actual number}... infinitely older than what my birth certificate says
14. Making - pizza with my kids, super easy, but they loved spreading the ingredients on the dough!
15. *I decided to do reading again. Hey, I'm an English teacher, reading is important to me!* Little House in the Big Woods - all 3 biguns (and, "big" at my house equals 3, 6, and 8, for what it's worth) will snuggle with me onto the loveseat and *actually listen* while I read. all... ok, almost all of their questions are good questions about the book, and I'm just so happy to be reading something to them that I loved as a kid, and have them enjoy it too. 
16. In my bag - 3 candy kisses, from a shy student who occasionally just walks up and hands me little gifts, no words, just a small token
17. In my fridge - half-made batter, tried to make mocha brownies with my sister, only to find we were out of eggs
18. In my heart - one last family gathering, playing Sour Apples to Apples, lots of laughs
19. From my hubby - a night of sleep - he got up with the baby!
20. From some friends - dinner at their house
21. From the same friend - an offer to take all 5 kids so we could both rest tonight

What about you? Are you taking the Joy Dare? What were you thankful for this past week? Comment here or on the FaceBook page!

My NYE

My New Year's Eve:
6-9 goof off with friends, eat dinner and rice krispies, play Pastor Hubby's birthday present - Xbox Kinect, watch the ball drop in real time, even though we're on the West Coast
9:09 begin playing Sorry Spin! other couple husband says, "This is going to be a short game with such a small board!"
10:10 I win game!
10:30 friends leave, everyone's smiling
10:35 begin pilling clothes for tomorrow - church and sister's birthday party afterwards
11:00 daughter brings in relatively new doll with severed head, tears in eyes

11:00 - 11:10 Hubby and I attempt to reconnect head, using tweezers, to no avail
11:15 find out it's more expensive to ship doll to doll hospital for repair than to buy new expensive doll



11:25 finish assembling clothes
11:30 leave baby asleep where she's at, rather than risk her waking, but not before taking picture of how adorable she is holding her little head on her hand

11:35 climb into bed,
11:55 drift off to sleep
11:58 baby wakes up to nurse
12:10 move different, more upright baby bed next to my bed for congested baby
12:15 - 12:30 attempt to get baby to sleep in bed
12:30 pull baby in bed with me, nurse again
1:20  almost-2-year old wakes up, go in, find her 1 baby doll, 1 stuffed animal, and binky, tuck her in, say goodnight, say I love you, stumble back to my room, manage to transfer baby to baby bed
3:16 baby wakes up, nurse in bed with me
4:04 - 4:09 baby's snorting and congestion wakes me up, do dreaded nose-sucker, causing baby to scream
4:10 try to calm baby to sleep, bounce, jiggle, cuddle facing in, cuddle facing out, etc, etc
4:30 try nursing to get baby to sleep
4:46 lay baby in baby bed, know it won't work, but maybe it will buy me 10 minutes of sleep, consider giving baby to Pastor Hubby, but I have agreed not to do this on Saturday nights, curse Saturday night
5:10 bring baby back in bed with me, nurse again, hear Pastor Hubby wake, roll over and go back to sleep, consider whether this would be considered justifiable homicide, decided it depends on the jury, decided not to risk it
5:25 hear washing machine turn on, know that means I intended to be up in 1 hour
5:45 finally sleep
8:00ish eyes closed, shush boys and ask them to play quietly in their room, because mommy is very very tired
8:45 able to open eyes and see that I only have 30 minutes to feed and dress all 6 of us for church... give up and eat a rice krispie treat.


{9:00-9:30 write blog post and polish off the rest of the riee krispie treats! Happy New Year!}

My first natural birth

This is the story of my second-born child, my first son, and my first natural birth; it was also my only birth with a doula. I wish I had hired one for all my births! I did not choose natural because I "want a trophy" or any other similarly silly reason. I chose it because I believe in it. I believe it's possible and beneficial for most women, not all. I believe it is a personal choice, and would not look down on someone for their choice. Choosing natural childbirth has changed the woman I am. It has deepened my faith in God and in myself. I have learned new things from each of my births. This birth taught me that I am strong, even when I don't think I am, even when others don't think I am, even when others think I may be crazy. Each of my natural births connected my husband and me more than my epidural birth. I don't believe natural birth is the only way to accomplish those things, but I know from experience that it can be a good way to accomplish those things. 

On Dec 26, 2005, Scott had the day off and I decided that I wanted to get all the Christmas decorations down so that they would be done before baby boy made his arrival. Who knew that would start a yearly tradition? After the decorations came down, I realized I hadn’t felt C move much in the past hour or so. I laid down and drank some orange juice to try to wake him up. He didn’t really wake, so I called my doula, Sherry Asp, and asked her opinion. She said to head into Reno and check his vitals. I started counting my contractions on the way to Reno, they were about a minute long and 10 min apart. He was moving a little now, but it was about 6pm, and there was a possible snowstorm that night, so we thought we would go ahead and get into Reno before the temperature dropped too much. At the time, we lived in Fernley, NV which required a drive through the mountains in order to get to a hospital. So, we called the Webbs, who were watching #1 for us, and they met us at a McDonald’s in Reno to take her. We grabbed some food for us too. 

We checked into the hospital, #2 was doing fine, and I was dilated to 6cm. We were admitted, and we called the doula to meet us there.

I should mention here that you can be dilated for weeks. I have been. Dilation is a measure, but it doesn't mean that birth is imminent. I believe now that I could have waited a week or more before #2 would have arrived. It turned out ok, but with later births 2 out of 3 later births, I chose to not pay as much attention to dilation. 

I informed the nurse of my birth plan - no drugs, intermittent monitoring (15min/hr), a hep-lock instead of IV, leaving the cord attached until after the placenta was delivered, and immediate nursing for the baby. (Tip: If you have a birth plan, choose 5 or so things that are most important to you, and highlight those. It will allow the staff to actually read your birth plan and help them to not see you as troublesome.)  She did the heplock and left. I knew my doctor was on vacation, he had warned me, so I knew it would be luck-of-the-draw. I also declined the hospital gown. I hated trying to keep that stupid thing closed with my first birth, and I saw no need for it in early labor. After about 20 minutes, the nurse returned to say that the doc on call really wanted me on monitoring the whole time. I politely declined. I also began to sneak chicken nuggets whenever we were alone in the room. While eating at one point, the doc came in. I thought for sure I was in for a lecture. He didn’t say a word. I explained to him that I wanted to be able to move freely, and that I discussed this with my doc (he was a supervisor at the hospital, so I thought a little name-dropping couldn’t hurt). He said he didn’t mind at all, that he hadn’t told the nurse I had to stay on the monitor at all. Hmmmmm. Someone lied. I still don’t know who. After about an hour, the nurse said it would just be easier to go ahead and hook me up to an IV now just in case something went wrong. I had hemorrhaged with #1’s birth, so I had already consented to pitocin after the birth. I asked, “Since I have the heplock, isn’t the time difference less than 5 seconds? I’d rather not. I want to be able to move around.” She tried to convince me that I could still move around, I would just have to wheel the IV cart around. Yeah, thanks, but no. The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. We watched Jay Leno, laughed, and goofed off. If I had been at home, I would have been sleeping, but I was too excited. I did nap off and on. 

The nurses changed shifts in the middle of the night. The new nurse said she had never had a patient choose to birth naturally before. She asked Sherry if I had had a bad experience the last time. Sherry just told her only I could answer that question, the nurse never asked me. The new nurse was very nice, even if a little clueless about natural birth. She seemed willing to experience it right along with us. She also told me that I should just do a shot of pitocin in my leg instead of putting it in the IV. We did decide to leave the heplock in, just in case, since it was already there, even though it was uncomfortable. (We never needed it.)

At about 5am, the doctor came in and said he wanted to check my progress. I was dilated to 9 cm, he told me. He then asked the nurse for a hook. She handed it to him. Immediately, red flags went up in my mind. “A hook? That can’t mean what I think it does? [to break my water] Surely he would ask first...” Very quickly, he had the hook package opened and in hand. I asked, “Wait... what are you doing?” He responded, very matter-of-factly, “I am going to break your water.” My head was saying, “Oh, really? You’re going to break something of mine, without asking me first? Nice try.” I managed to politely say, “I would like to discuss that with my husband first.” He looked astounded that I would dare even consider not going along with his will. He stood from the bed, stormed to the door, ripped off his glove, threw it in the trash, turned around and said, “You’re not at a 9 anyway, you’re only at a 6,” and left. Well, thank you, I didn’t realize they allowed two-year-olds to become doctors. I quickly realized his shift was over in 2 hrs, and he just wanted a paycheck for delivering my baby. I looked at my belly and told my little man to just hang in there till after 7, because I didn’t want that doctor anywhere near us again. I don't think he was quite ready yet anyway, so I never saw that doctor again.  

When the doctors changed shifts, the new woman came in, and was very nice. She was supportive of my birth plan, and checked on us every few hours, but largely left us alone, achieving a really good balance. We walked around the hospital a few times and basically just hung out, trying nipple stim and taking cohosh tincture. One time when the doc came in, at about 1pm, she explained that #2 was head down, and very low and said she would break my water if I wanted to. At this point, maybe I should have waited, but I was anxious to meet him, and had been in the hospital for about 18 hrs. So I consented, and she broke my water. 

Until that point, I had barely felt my contractions, but once the water was broken, they came fast and furious. I found relief changing positions, particularly on all fours. Sherry would gently tap twice on any muscle that I was tensing, something we had practiced. That was a reminder to me to relax that muscle. It was very effective, because it was something we had worked out before. I didn't feel like she was telling me what to do, but rather, using a gentle reminder to tell me something I wanted to do. The fact that it was non-verbal was nice for me also.
Now that I'm more aware of the power of human touch, I think that played a part as well. A gentle touch that not only told me to relax, but told me that she was here with me, supporting me, gently here for me. 

 I got in and out of the shower, each contraction getting stronger. I felt like I was in the movies, groaning and yelling. Sherry used counter pressure on my lower back, and Scott was very encouraging throughout. She did the hip squeeze - standing behind me, squeezing both hips up and in. I felt him move down, and at the same time, felt relief of some of the pain. Without those things, I don’t know if I could have made it through. During one contraction, with Sherry doing the hip squeeze, I thought, "If she did nothing else, this woman is worth every penny." I considered the epidural, but I ran through the reasons I had decided not to use it in my head, and remembered that I was most likely too close to birth to get one. 

C at 4 months

I told Sherry that I thought I needed to poop, and asked if it was normal. She said that it was fine and helped me to the toilet. It was there that I realized I didn’t need to poop, I needed to push! I decided then and there that I was comfortable on the toilet and would birth there. haha! Sherry got to where we were eye-to-eye and firmly (but nicely) said, "Kristi, you can NOT have this baby on the toilet." I trusted her and knew she would not have had that tone of voice with me if it weren't a good reason, so I got off and moved towards the bed. She later told me she has caught babies that way, but you run the risk of them hitting their head on the porcelain, and they go from warm womb to cold water. Obviously, I had not thought of either of those things!

I got back in in the bed, again on all fours. We called the nurse, who, of course, had to check my dilation. She complained to Sherry that she hated checking dilation while I was in that position (hands and knees) because it was hard for her. I said, “Fine, I I’ll roll over.” I was a little annoyed, because, really, I am the one who should be comfortable, not her, but I didn’t want to be a diva. I rolled over, she announced I was at 10cm and fully effaced. By this point, the urge to push was undeniable and unable to be ignored. They called the doctor, but the one on call was in her office across the campus. So they called the perinatologist, whose office was in the hospital itself. I remember the nurses coming in and telling me I couldn’t push yet because the doctor wasn’t there. I said he better hurry up, or I was doing it without him. I looked at Sherry, and said, “I’m fine with you catching this baby!” She was training to be a midwife at that time (she is a midwife now). They told me I could turn back over if I wanted to, but I did not feel like I could move. They also asked if I wanted to feel his head, but I was holding myself up with my hands, because putting my hips down on the bed caused too much pressure. I said, “I would really like to, but I can’t.” I’m still amazed at my ability to form such polite sentences at the time (especially considering I yelled at the midwife with L’s birth, 2 years later. Maybe I was just more comfortable with my surroundings and freedom to express myself with L, or maybe I became less concerned with what other people think of me). 

C at 6 yrs (minus one day)

The perinatologist came in and introduced himself, Dr. Globe, I think. For some reason, I said, “I hope we don’t make a mess on your nice shirt!” I guess I really liked his shirt. It probably had something to do with the fact that all the other doctors had been in scrubs, and he was dressed very nicely. He told me that was not a problem, and put a gown and gloves on. Because I had waited so long, once he got into position, I pushed very hard, and C was out in about 2 pushes. Sadly, the doctor cut the cord immediately. I tried to say something, but he was very fast. I knew he did not have time to review my birth plan, so I wasn’t upset, but I was disappointed. They set him up on my chest, and I said, “Hi, little guy!” Of course, it was love at first sight. He began nursing like a champ right away. The doctor told me several times that he was not pulling on the cord, but that the placenta was coming on its own. I thought that was kind-of cute, and I really appreciated it, considering the doc had pulled it with R, and that is almost certainly the cause of the hemorrhage. They called the time of birth at 3:00 pm, about 2 hours after my water was broken.

They took C and put him under the bili lights while the doctor started to stitch me up; I tore because I pushed so quickly. I know I asked him about 12 times if he was going to use a local anesthetic. Childbirth without drugs serves a good purpose; stitches without them is silly!  He laughed and asked if I wanted them. I was very enthusiastic when I said yes. I said that I wanted my baby back, and the nurses said they were trying to get him warm. I told them that I was plenty warm enough to warm him and he wanted to nurse again. They gave him back to me, and he nursed again. I did have to trade back and forth with him on the bili lights to make the nurses happy, though. 

When they moved me to a new room, I told the nurse I had to go to the bathroom, and she insisted on helping me to the bathroom. She was surprised at how easily mobile I was, which I found somewhat amusing. It’s amazing what you can do when you can move your own legs! (With #1, I couldn’t move anything below my ribs until about 10am the next day, she was born at 12:37am; it was awful.) After the bathroom, I asked her to help me with my sweatpants, I had refused to wear the hospital gown the whole time. She joked about me liking to be covered in my own clothes. I said yes, I was just more comfortable that way. She took me to my new room, and we ate dinner - it was actually very good! Scott went with the nurse to give #2 his first bath, and when he brought him back, he was snugly wrapped in a blanket inside a stocking! I wish I had that picture to show you, but it's trapped on a dead laptop, still in my garage, hopefully awaiting a resurrection. 

12-27-2013, 8 years old