An Apple A Day . . .

I Really dislike going to the doctor. I dislike the doctor so much that my husband has to wheedle and pester me to death before I’ll go for my yearly exam or whatever they’re called. He finally got me to go for the first time this year in probably about 9 years or so. It’s not that I don’t like my doctor or think they don’t know what they are doing. I don’t have anything against modern medicine, that’s for sure. I am just of the sound opinion that Dr.s are for sick people and if I’m not sick well . . .

I hardly ever take my kids to the doctor either, besides which they are hardly ever sick. ( I would take them if they were really sick) I do make sure that my children go to all of their well child appts. and get all of their immunizations, but before now I could take kids to the doctor the most about 4 times a year (and that was only when they were a baby and had to go that many times). That was before.

I have been to see the doctor 4 times in the past month. 4! In one month!! It would be understandable if it invovled different kids, but nope, it was all Jacob. First he had to go in for his RSV vaccine, then he had a double ear infection, then he had a small infection on his chest by his incision line (that made my blood pressure rise a bit, but it isn’t anything for me to freak over, yet anyway. Don’t you love that? They always say, “It’s nothing to be concerned about yet.” So it just sits and festers in your head driving you crazy. I have decided that the Lord is trying to teach me patience and I am a particularly stubborn learner), then today he had his 9 month well child check up, which was good because he had another double ear infection. So I get to go back to the Dr. in two weeks time. I’ve gotten to know the kids’ Dr. and nurse so well that I sent them Christmas cards this year! (That might be common, but I have never done it before.)

And I wonder why I woke up this morning with a headache the size of Texas? Hooray for modern medicine and Advil. 🙂

Tooth Fairy? Who’s she?

Elizabeth had her first loose tooth a couple of weeks ago. She comes running into my office, “Look mom! I have a loose tooth! When it falls out I am going to put it under my pillow!”

“How come?” I ask.

“I don’t know, I’m just going to put it under my pillow!”

She finally lost it last week, the first tooth in the family. She was delighted when she discovered why you put it under your pillow. So now I have an adorable toothless kid (Jacob has teeth now so he doesn’t count anymore in the toothless category). It was one of her bottom front teeth and now the other bottom front tooth is starting to get loose. I hope she looses it before the other one comes in, I love kids with big gaps in their teeth, I think it’s adorable. Hee Hee. 🙂

My Little Angels . . . er . . Devils???

We had a lovely Christmas day. We went to church and I played for the choir during the service which was just over an hour. We even made it up to the hospital as we did on Thanksgiving to serve dinner to those on the pediatric floor. We enjoyed the evening singing carols and drinking hot chocolate with our best friends. We played and read stories together as a family. It was spectacular, really and the kids had been amazingly good. Then we hit bed time. It was as if our darling children were simultaneously transformed into miniature Tasmanian devils. Leaping from the bunk beds, somersaulting through their room, jumping on the bed, spreading blue toothpaste all over the bedroom, and streaking through the house in their darling little birthday suits.

Finally we wrestled them all in bed and Paul and I gave an audible sigh of relief as we closed their door. No less than 5 seconds later a shrill scream echoed from their room. With three girls shrill screams are anything but rare. So we calmly walked into their room and found Emily crying on the floor. Her sisters had informed us she had fallen off her bed (she sleeps on the top bunk), which is not rare either and seldomly results in any serious injury. We gave her the, “If you had stayed in bed and not goofed around . . .” lecture and Paul picked her up to comfort her. We were being moderately sympathetic but not overly so and I went to pat her on the head and send to bed when I noticed she was bleeding. Lots. Of course head wounds bleed a lot so it looked worse than it was. I exclaimed and we rushed her into our bathroom where we began to try to clean her up. We couldn’t see around all the blood so we finally plunked her into the bath tub. Now we really did feel sorry for the little tyke. We got her all washed up and she was just getting back to her smiley self when she slipped getting out of the tub and gashed her ankle. So now she had a gash in her ankle and a gash in her head. Paul slapped a band-aid on her ankle and I began to examine her head.

Thank goodness it wasn’t bad enough to race her in for stitches but I did have to cut her hair away so I could butterfly it shut. So now she has a little bald spot on top of her head. Poor little tyke, what an eventful end to such a wonderful Christmas Day! It must just be written in the cosmos some where: each perfect day must have a disastrous end and each disastrous day should have a perfect end. Ah well . . . *sigh*

Hush Little Baby

Elizabeth came and knocked on my office door the other day while I was wrapping presents.

“Dorothy accidently woke Jacob up, so he’s awake now.” (I love how they have to say the same thing in as many different ways as possible)

“Ok, I’ll be right out.”

I finished up the package I was on and emerged from my office. I heard a faint sound in the background which continually grew louder. It took me a few seconds to recognize that it was Dorothy . . . singing. She wasn’t just singing she was belting at the top of her little lungs a somewhat mournful out of tune song. I was half way to the baby’s room when I recognized what she was singing.

“Hush little baby don’t cry a word, mamas gonna buy you a mocking bird . . . ”

Then I heard Jacob squealing and giggling. I peaked into the baby’s room to spy and the image was so sweet. There was Dot standing on the edge of the chair leaning over the crib singing away. And there was Jacob looking up at her with the biggest grin on his face. Pure joy, for both of them. No one cared she wasn’t in tune and missed half the notes it was absolute adoration for both of them.

P.S. While I was sitting here writing this blog Strawberry Shortcake was playing in the background for the girls to watch. Suddenly Paul calls out, “Honey I think there is something wrong with this picture! (I am thinking, with the TV? You’re the mechanical one, what do you want me to do about it?) The girls are in the kitchen painting and Jacob and I are sitting here watching Strawberry Shortcake. I just had to giggle. I’ll have to stowaway all these little “tortureous” moments to tease Jacob with when he is a big “manly” teenager. Hee Hee.

Midnight Visitor

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house

Everyone was sleeping, except for my spouse

Around the tree the floor was bare

And in the stockings nothing hung there.

Mom was sacked out asleep on the couch

And dad slaved in his office in an ominous crouch.

When who do you think would appear at our door?

Why Santa Clause! And small feet hit the floor.

A squeal, a scream and a stampede of feet

Knocking Santa right onto his seat!

Mommy was up with her camera ready

And Daddy came out from his overworked study.

The kids each in turn sat on his lap

He gave them a present and they gave a clap.

Each Christmas wish was filled to a T

And none of the kids was left with a plea.

Then off to their beds the kids did scamper

For nothing of Christmas did they want to hamper.

Then out stepped Santa with a wave of goodbye

But no one saw him soar into the sky.

For sleepy eyes drooped and slid into sleep

But the memories forever will be theirs to keep.

-J.H. Schmidt

On Christmas Eve we arranged for our good friend to come over. He has a full Santa suit, complete with snowy white beard and black boots, the whole works. He was supposed to come over shortly after bedtime so Paul and I could set up Christmas but didn’t actually make it until midnight. I fell asleep waiting for him on the couch and Paul worked on fixing someone’s computer so they would have it for Christmas. We had figured he had forgotten when he called to say he was on his way. He came to the kids window and “Ho! Ho! Ho!” as he smacked the side of the house and shook the jingle bells. We helped the kids awake to see Santa outside and then they all stampeded out to the family room. Each kid had asked for basically only one thing for Christmas (except for Emmy, she had asked for presents). So I had wrapped and given their requests to Santa ahead of time. As each kid in turn sat on Santa and told them what they wanted he handed them a wrapped gift. Imagine their ecstatic cries as they found exactly what they had asked for inside each package. The kids gave him the milk and cookies they had set out and then scampered off to bed. Paul and I very sleepily bid our friend farewell and then set up Christmas. I think we finally crashed around 2:30 a.m. It was a very magical time with our midnight visitor and I think as long as we haven’t gone anywhere we will have a repeat next year.

Reflexigirl

I was watching the Incredibles with my kids (for the umpteenth time) and my mind started to wander. It was right about the time Elastigirl was keeping the kids from fighting (which always made me laugh). Then I had a sudden horrifying thought. I had missed my calling! I could have been a super hero! Lightening quick relfexes, super intelligence, and such speed and agility! No? (I know you are shaking your head and laughing right now, admit it!) Alright, you might be right, but just hang in there and hear my reasoning. It all began on a warm summer day in Utah . . .

I was in highschool and we were visiting my two sisters, one of which was newly married. Her husband had a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses. They were like gold. Especially considering my sister and brother-in-law were poor starving college students. We went on numerous family outings, gallavanting all over the country side. After one such afternoon the sunglasses were forgotten on the dash board. A pretty safe place for said glasses, right? Only if you have “Reflexigirl” on your side.

We had no airconditioning in that particular van and so we had the windows rolled down all the time. My mom likes to zip around corners (and my hubby wonders why I drive the way I do, hee hee) and on one particular corner those sunglasses picked up a bit of momentum. Mom gave a shout and my eyes followed those poor glasses sailing right out the window.

Quick as a flash a transformed, I was no longer Julia, but “Reflexigirl”, quick as lightening my hand shot out of the window and snatched those glasses right out of the air. Outside of the car! Woohoo! I quickly reverted to normal, but not before my secret identity was given away.

So you see, I missed my calling in life. But every once in a while you can see her dart about and snatch things flying through the air as if they were standing still, and you know: “Reflexigirl” is here. (Why do I still get the feeling you all keep laughing at me? It’s the agile part, right? Well how can you have a klutzy super hero. Hmmm? Answer that one!)

Tweaking

I have been inspired. Actually I was just feeling like everybody’s blogs looked really cool and mine was well, boring. And I hate to be boring. So after I read Fourth Fret’s blog I decided to take action! This was the result, I’m not sure if I am done tweaking or not or if I even like it. I just couldn’t resist that cow . . . by the way I am new at this so if you have any suggestions, feel free to share them . . . 🙂

Smoke

Weekly Anamnesis #4

I am prone to disaster, cooking or other. Some of you may have read my “Peril of the Pears” blog, or my “I am Goofy, Goofy I am” blog, and understand what I am talking about. There was this particular time . . .

“Hey mom!” I walked into the house after high school and headed straight for the kitchen. The piano plunking away in the background as my mom taught her student. I was always hungry after school. My stomach roaring like a lion I was surprised the student couldn’t hear. I grabbed the toaster and shoved some bread in. I didn’t think to move it out from under the cabinets. But then, at the end of a school day, when is thinking for a tired teenager a forte?
“Hi dad.” I pecked a kiss on his cheek as I passed him reading the paper at the table. “Mmm, you look good,” I said to his cottage cheese and peaches, making a mental note to myself to dish some up once my toast popped. And I secluded myself in my father’s office to work on a paper.

One could pride me on being so diligent in my home work, or scorn my forgetfulness. See I had forgotten that, just a few days before, the toaster had quit working. It wouldn’t pop up on its own. I was peacefully oblivious to this, until . . .

My father doesn’t have a sense of smell. Can’t smell a thing. We would ask him to smell the scratch and sniff stickers as kids and then feel terribly guilty that we had forgotten, again, that he couldn’t smell like we could. It was fascinating though to see if such strong scents such as skunk could be picked up. But all in vain. So my dad didn’t smell the smoke. He was blissfully reading when a waft of smoke curled around his head. Surprised he turned around and gave a shout.

I came charging into the kitchen, the shout having reminded me that I needed to pop the toast. There were flames leaping, and I mean leaping, out of the toaster! Dad ran over and yanked the plug out of the wall and pulled the toast. I was amazed to see that even the toast itself was on fire. Little flames dancing all over it. While he ran to the sink with the toast I dove for the baking soda and emptied the entire box onto the toaster.

By now my mom and the piano student had joined the fray and I stood in the center. A very guilty look on my face and an empty box of baking soda in my hand. I gave a sheepish grin, and said, “Oops.” My parents just shook their heads. I think they were used to my escapades by now.

“Well, at least you saved the house.” Mom says.
“You wanted a new toaster right mom? Make a note of that dad.” I say. Then we, the piano student included, dissolved into laughter.

The mark remains to this day. The burnt bottom of the cabinet (the toaster is long gone). My family is now living in my parents house (they are serving a mission for our church so we are house sitting while they are gone) and my husband proudly points out my marvelous cooking skill to all who enter. “My wife can’t even cook toast without burning it, there’s the mark to prove it!”

He then gets an elbow in the ribs and we giggle and laugh thinking of all of my other misadventures.

Snow!!

It snowed yesterday! We came home from church and were eating lunch and I looked out the window and saw beautiful white flakes floating to the ground. Upon hearing my exclamation of surprise the girls started off in squeals of joy, Jacob joined in without knowing why. The kids threw on their coats and stampeded out onto the deck. It wasn’t coming down very hard and barely dusted the deck but the kids were dancing a jig and making snow angels on the deck in the little snow there was. It was fun to watch and made me smile. The snow was replaced by freezing rain though and by nightfall everything was a sheet of ice. Thankfully it warmed in the morning and we woke to the sound of rain beating softly upon our roof and safe roads for hubby to drive on to work this morning. No more snow though, and that makes me sad. Hopefully it will really snow this year. In Oregon you never know.

There is something so joyous about watching your children play in the snow and building a snowman together. Maybe its their giggles and laughter. Maybe it is the rosy cheeks and nose shining through the cold and the big grin that lights even the darkest corner of the soul. Maybe it coming inside and driving out the cold with hot chocolate. Maybe it is the remembrance of past years and your own childhood joys being mirrored in the children’s faces. Or maybe, just maybe it is love. Love for the snow, love for each other, love of joy. Yes, I think that is it. It is love.

Juggling the Ocean

When I was little I would often wonder what it would be like to be able to contain a piece of ocean in your arms, with out a container. As if it were a tangible thing, the waves leaping and jumping, constantly churning. What a juggling act that would be trying to keep the playful waves from escaping back into the sea. Spilling over my arms and shoulders only to be hauled back into their niche cradled softly in my arms. It seems silly, but I could almost imagine it, so slippery, slick and smooth, my little fingers trying desperately to clutch it as it frenziedly tried to escape. I imagined my self an octopus needing all my arms to keep it in place, but it would still ooze through the cracks in my fingers and arms. Today I finally had the ocean in my arms . . .

I held my nine month old son. (Boy, can he wiggle!!)