Friday, September 23, 2011

Such drama, such histrionics

When babies learn to poop they often go display super twisted facial expressions and sound all manner of grunty noises. They are learning how to balance the urges and minimize the effort. Once they have mastered the task, the dramatics are lessened.

The same process can be said of learning to deal with owly feelings in the am, espcially for children Mac's size. (LOOK HOW CUTE MAC IS!! ALL VISITING MOMMY AT WORK!! WITH HIS WEE VELCRO SHOES!!). Mac is not a fan of waking up. Well, he likes waking up, but he DISLIKES changing out of his pull ups and putting on underwear. Sadly, until he does this, his acess to the morning oatmeal is blocked.

We are strict parents. Oh yes, it's true.

Thus, the morning requirement of changing one's drawers is met with much protest. Copious displays of dislike! There is falling to the ground, wailing and whining. All while he clutches his wee poo-bear blankie and big bubble tears fall asunder. Such drama, such histrionics.

It gets old.

My usual approach is to get bossy and threaten the time out. It's not a productive strategy. It just makes him dig in deeper.

SO this morning I joined in. I yelped, "I CAN'T FIND MY SOCKS!!" and "MY HAIR IS STICKING UP!" Then, I dropped to floor and starting wailing. Pancake joined in, "MY SWEATER IS ITCHY!!" and "MY BACKPACK'S SO HEAVY!!" Then she dropped right next to me.

And we wailed, and rolled and laughed and wailed some more. And Mac took notice. He stopped for a few minutes.

And it didn't really stop his whining, but it made the morning fun for us :)

hee hee hee

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


That up there, is my daughter's snake. It's a corn snake. She loves Sunset with all of her big, big heart. She named him Sunset because the clouds at sunset are pink. That's my hand though.

But, this post is not about Sunset.

It's about this one time, about 10 years ago, I was driving to the doctor's office because my hands were itching something fierce. I was a wee CNA (nurse's assistant) at the time. I worked at a nursing home, helping the elderly.

SO-I'm driving to the doctor's office, literally rubbing my hands on the steering wheel as I drove. My arms and neck itched too. I was living in this old house, renting the top floor while I went to nursing school. There was NO air conditioning in the house. It was summer, so the temps were in the 90's most days. Sticky hot.

Mr. Hall would visit on weekends. We slept on this old, scratchy, pull out couch. We'd wake up in a hamster pile in the sunken center. Cupfuls of sweat would pool under his Adam's apple. It was miserable.

I think about this and I think, wow, Mr. Hall really loved me. He drove two hours to see me on those weekends. All to sleep in a horrible, scratchy, broken, pull out couch. :)

So of course I would have a heat rash from the couch.

Turns out, it was hand-foot-mouth disease. Google it if you want. Go ahead, I'll wait.


Totally contagious too. Which is why I got it working at nursing home. I also picked up scabies from there too. Working at hospitals and nursing homes is dangerous business. Lots of closeness, lots of shared, lots of hosts for viruses and such to thrive.

I was thinking about this today, as I am running a fever and have a sore throat. The kids are back in school. Which is why we've been sick the last week. Kids are vectors.


The thing is, Mr. Hall never once caught anything I ever caught. He never gets sick from anything we ever have. Or. . . maybe he doesn't complain about it :)

Monday, September 12, 2011

Come come, oh light

This blog was started to show this little life of mine. To tell my story and let it all come to the light. While my story is not extraordinary, I find wonder in it. I find curious joy too. Even in the saddest of sad parts.

My innate sense of wonder and curiosity brings me adventure. I am a seeker. This leads to mini obsessions, things that become my whole world until I am done. Then they become something I did once.

There are many paths I've traveled and some have brought me great gifts. Like the music of Johnny Cash, the taste of spicy hummus and the sweet loving of Mr. Hall. These things I sought. They were not brought to me.

The life I lead now is beyond my wildest dreams. There are so many blessings my arms are sore from the carrying. The most blessed gifts of all are my children. And OH! What children I have. They are loving, kind, gracious and will do amazing things.

All of this swirls in my head as we get closer to the foster care system. When Mr. Hall and I were dating we decided to have a few kids, then adopt. We've had two kids and now perhaps, it's time. Time to adopt I think. We don't want to adopt babies, we want to adopt from the foster care system.

This sounds very noble typed out. It sounds reasonable and kind. It sounds merciful. However, there is abstract loftiness and then there is hard and heavy reality. The reality is sinking in these days, as we get closer to making this decision.

My fears are many. I fear that this will be another obsession, something I bring into my life for the wrong reasons. I fear that I cannot be prepared for this. I fear I don't even no where to start. I fear for my kids, that I'll bring something into their lives that is not good. I fear I am not healed enough.

My fears are not unfounded.

As I read about these children from the foster care system, I am learning to differentiate between diagnoses and behaviors. This is what I do, divide and conquer in my head. I do this because these foster care kids are hurting. They came into the foster care system because of great pain and sadness. For children, pain is expressed through behaviors. They haven't the words to say I'm hurting. Sometimes, they don't have the ability to accept love that can heal them. It's overwhelming, reading all of this.

Yet here I am, still reading. Reading foster parent blogs and articles on psychological issues common with foster kids. I read narratives from foster kids. I learn the story from a personal and clinical perspective. Some of it is so sad, I cry out loud.

Yet here I am, still reading. I do the reading because I have stomach for it. I can withstand reading through all of it. Mr. Hall is strong, but I am stronger in this way. This is how we can reach out towards this.

At my roots, I am a kind hearted Mom. I am hard wired for mercy. I am woman of faith. At my roots, I feel a pull towards these children. I've determined it's their needs pulling me, not mine. I'm not trying to replace the babies I've lost in pregnancy. I can say this with full confidence.

Yet, I am still scared. I am scared because once I begin this, I won't be able to stop.

I can say this will not be done alone, I will do this with my husband and my children. I won't be adopting alone, our family will be adopting.

This will take a gigantic amount of prayer and faith.

And so I bow my head.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Things I want to learn to do (or not)

Things I want to learn to do
in no certain order:

Sculpt wood

Push ups
Hand glide
Blow Fire


Which one should I learn first?

and more importantly-


Tuesday, September 6, 2011

messing with my fertility

Warning: this post is a bit graphic, but power through and it'll be worth it.

So, last week came the time for me to FINALLY schedule the appt. The appt to stop my fertility-aka-have a mirena iud placed.

In the last two days, I've been kind of a mess. First off, I don't like going back to that place-the hospital where I learned of my miscarriages and where my d & c's were performed. I don't like dealing with my high powered OB GYN, I don't like her. It's not her specifically, it's that she never once gave me a hug during what was probably the most horrible times in my life. Not that I want a hug, in fact, I don't want anything to do with it at all. All of it, the hospital and the ob-gyn, it triggers large buckets of sadness and my heart to ache.

This doesn't change the fact that Mr. Hall and I are still fertile. But, we don't want to make any decisions right now-about having babies I mean. I gently suggested we just throw caution to the wind, not actively prevent any pregnancy. And he said no, that would be making a decision. We need to heal, he said.


En route to the appt I was losing my shit. I was honestly second guessing everything. I was thinking-maybe just go on the pill for a few months-or-the depo shot, that's an option. Then I started to get really pissed off. Then I almost turned around. I don't want any of this. I still want to be pregnant. I was due December 18th! I still should be pregnant!

BUT I'm not.

This was horrible, thinking and feeling all of this. Especially the last part, where I realize I still want to be pregnant but I'm not. It's a horrible snap back to how I felt two months ago. I'm two months on the other side of losing the last baby now. It's still raw and tender.

Mr. Hall is right about the need to heal some more.

In the clinic, I was crying on the inside when the nurse called my name. I made polite small talk. Told them 14 times I hadn't had sex since my menses started. They asked 14 times and had me take a pregnancy test. Which was negative.




Getting pregnant is not something I want right now. I don't want the scared, the sad, the frightened. I don't want the waiting, the positive pregnancy test, the throwing up and out of commission for two months. I don't want to go through another miscarriage. And even if I could possibly guarantee a problem free pregnancy with a bouncing healthy baby at the end. . . .

It's just not something we're capable of right now. I don't think we'll try to knock me up again.


I layed back,and in the IUD went.

Then a funny thing happened. I felt better. I remember the OB GYN telling me it went well, no problems down there. She told me to make an appt in a month so she can check things.

To which I thought:


Mr. Hall can, ehem, 'check things' just fine.

Then, in the elevator, heading back to my car, I started giggling. I felt this rush of happiness come over me. I started dancing a wee jig. In the elevator. I felt free.

Then, on the way home, I felt even better. I got excited about going shopping for smaller clothes, I'm down 13 lbs now. Look below-only one chin!! I got excited about roller blading with my kids. I got excited about having more of my body back now that I have the wee IUD.

I'm so very thankful for what has been given to me, fertility wise. I'm so blessed to have all that I have.

And now, we'll give it a few more months and then pursue the other avenues of growing our family. :)

Friday, September 2, 2011

It's never as good as you think it's going to be

1. The cupcake.

Been feeling really well lately, eating right and exercising does wonders for everything. So, then, I spotted a cupcake. All little with frosting and sprinkles. I went for it. I went for it because if you eat healthy, you can eat these things once in a great while.

Turns out, it just about tore my stomach apart. STUPID STUPID STUPID factory made, bleached flour, artificial colored cupcake. NOT MADE WITH LOVE. My stomach hurt for almost two days. BAAHH!!

Stupid cupcake.

2. My husband left his email open.

It's not uncommon for my husband to leave his email open. And I have access to his texts. This should be fun, peeking into my husband's stuff. IT'S NOT. Men email like this-

(friend email)

"meet at sports bar at eight?"

"see you there"


(work email)

"cathy client says her computer is running slow-maybe it's the server"

"will check server when I get there. should be there around 9"


(family email)

(from his sister) "mom has . . . . FIVE PARAGRAPHS . . . and what do you think we should do?"

"will give her a call, maybe 6 tonight. shouldn't be too bad really."

I mean SERIOUSLY? That's all he writes?? Why do men have such derth of conversation? Why do I feel compelled to sneak through his email? Well, not really sneak, I mean, he is sitting right next to me as I go through them. And I've complained about this, that he doesn't write enough.

Well, then he writes to me. It tends to be a bit longer and more focused. Those emails are not for public perusal though :)

hee hee hee

Thursday, September 1, 2011

They took my stapler. . . my swingline stapler

When I was rising up the ranks from nurse to nurse practitioner I had a mentor. He said, "Holly, you need to embrace the mantle of your authority."

He basically told me to be a badass, embrace the power of being in charge.

Then, I did, with those flu shots. It was a total accident but dang. GANSTA!


I am going to do it again. I've dealt with too much this week. And yes, some of it is my fault. But, it's also my responsibility to do something about it. I'm drawing some lines in the sand.

They took my stapler one too many times. They moved my office too.

So yeah, try to move me ONE MORE TIME. Go ahead, try and move me to the basement.

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