Entries from October 2006 ↓

4:50pm The candy is ready, the costumes are purchased, but there is one big snag. Aidan’s lion costume is too small. Not just a little too small, painfully small. CURSE YOU COSTUME COMPANY

4:55-5:05 Frantic closet dig for anything suitable. I stumbled upon an old black dress… judge no, warlock no… Death a la Terry Pratchett yes!

5:10-5:25 dinner (mine was a Honey I Screwed Up Treat from my husband) the boys had quesadillas.

5:35 Tim runs to Wal-greens we’re out of Motrin for Mark and Death needs some white facepaint. Meanwhile Death amuses himself driving his powerwheel car.

6:05 Daddy returns with facepaint and the jack-o-lantern is lit.

6:15 We’re off Trick or Treating

6:45 I dash home to answer the door, and am greeted by a neighbor who calls me by name, but I don’t recognize.

6:55 Neighbor circles around and I realize it’s the gentleman who lives cattycorner from us. We have a long conversation about paving our street.

7:00 Last trick or treaters in sight.

7:15 I head in to upload pics.

7:26 The Grim Reaper is told to disrobe and put on his PJs chaos ensues.

7:31 I sit here cursing Blogger for not letting me upload the pics.
7:38 All done! Happy Halloween everyone!

While running a few errands this morning I noticed the baby was getting a little warm. Aidan had run a fever over the weekend, so it wasn’t really a surprise. I checked his temperature and he was feverish, but not alarmingly so. I decided to let his body fight the bug. I laid him in his crib, checking on him every so often and he slept peacefully for about an hour until he woke with an angry squawk.

I ran upstairs and while I was checking his temperature he jerked in my arms, a few full body spasms and then screamed in anger. He was running a pretty high fever and I was very concerned about febrile seizures, so I called my mom (I had them when I was young) and then the doctor. While I was on the phone Mark alternated between howling and lying limp. I gave him motrin and tried to keep my cool. He repeated the jerking and screaming several times, then began to perk up.

My mom and stepfather picked up Aidan, for which I’m grateful (thanks Mom!) and I headed for his appointment.* The little stinker ran around the waiting room, squealing with delight and flirting with the ladies. Hey look at me, aren’t I the cutest, healthiest toddler you’ve ever seen? He’d chortle and wave, then drum on the seats for good measure. He peek-a-booed, clapped, and danced; all to make a liar out of me.

My little actor didn’t know that strep is hard to hide. We’re home, the script has been filled, and he’s sleeping soundly. Aidan has an appointment in the morning, as he decided to develop a striking rash and the doctor wants to rule out a complication of strep.

Meanwhile, I have a few new gray hairs to hide.

Watch out Moncks Corner; we’re contagious.

*I highly recommend Berkeley Family Practice. We’ve been using them for almost two years and have no complaints.
**Edit** I found a better link for BFP

I am pretty sure my most recent decision is a sign I need to be comitted. Tim is getting ready to work some insanely long hours. In order to preserve our marriage, I usually pack up the boys and leave town. Trust me, it’s better for all involved. I plan on blogging my decent into madness. I’ll be firming up the itinery over the next week and our tentative starting date will be Wednesday the eighth.

The two boys and I are going to rent a car (with better gas mileage) and drive from Charleston, to Nashville, to Chicago, then to St. Paul, MN where we’ll spend around a week. From St. Paul, we’ll drive back to Chicago then to the outskirts of Detroit. From there, we’ll shoot south back to Nashville for an additional night and possibly stop in Asheville on our way home. We’ll be home just in time for our fifth anniversary and Thanksgiving.

Oh, did I mention it’s just the two little ones and I?

Hang on boys, it’s going to be a long ride.

LittleFoodies

I was sent this link by a non-blogging friend, a little scary, but they do exist. This blog is full of kid tested recipes, with pics. The recipes look outstanding and healthy. I’m always looking to expand my repertoire and most of these look adult friendly, too. The unconfirmed rumor is this mama will be publishing a toddler cookbook. Check her out.

Is it OK if I don’t like anyone, not even my own flesh and blood, at five-thirty in the morning?

I love the still, quiet of the house before anyone is awake.

I enjoy my daily stumble to the coffeemaker.

I like the fact that my husband leaves quickly.

Lately things have been different the sound of my eyelids opening seems to wake up the boys. Typing has been out of the question, not that it really matters, since I’ve been in a state of limbo, just waiting to hear about the job. I’m not sure what has been different with my husband, either. He used to scoot out the door at 5:30 on the dot. Now he sits and sometimes plays WoW until 6:15. I stand there and glare at him; I know he can feel it. Internally I selfishly chant, “It’s my time! Go to work!”

Today has been different. I was able to soothe the baby back to sleep; while I was doing so, Tim quietly left. The rain is falling, the fire is burning, my coffee is strong, and the house is quiet. Today will be good.

What I did on Friday.

Sorry the pic isn’t great. I blame Tim.

I heard from my possible future employer, last Wednesday. They have decided to undergo some restructuring which may open up “additional employment opportunities.” The e-mail stated they are putting the hiring process on hold for thirty days and those of us who submitted applications should be patient.

I’m trying.

I’m really trying.

I took these on Saturday, just getting around to posting them.

I have not spent a lot of time discussing this side of my life, so I’m clumsy and not as articulate as I’d like to be.

I carry my guilt. It is not how we are supposed to live, but I am fallible, so very human. Sometimes I see myself as carrying a bag; in it are my hopes, dreams, and memories. As I wander down the road of life I pick up the stones that cause me to stumble. Some nights I sift through that bag and while each stone is insignificant the burden of the collection is staggering.
I was raised Catholic in a semi-practicing household. Confession was a part of my life, a time where I could sift through that bag and leave my burden at God’s feet. When I was sixteen I went through the process of Confirmation. As the time drew near for me to tell the bishop and the church that I was an adult, I realized I was not ready. I told my father I did not want to receive the sacrement because I lacked faith. That was the biggest fight I’ve ever had with him. It ended with my father saying I would never leave the house if I did not go through with the ceremony.
For those who are unfamiliar with the Catholic faith there are two types of sins mortal and venial. Mortal sins are exactly what they sound like, death for the soul; they are conscious sins of a grievous nature. Venial sins are our small, unconscious sins of every day life. In my eyes, when I stood in front of the congregation and spoke to the bishop, it was not a small sin; it was a conscious decision to lie. I lied publicly and directly to God. I didn’t pick up a small stone that day, it was a tremendous boulder. The weight of the transgression caused me to stop attending Mass and I certainly could not face a priest for Confession, after all I had just lied to the bishop. As is the nature of things, the boulder slowly sank into the bag, slipping to the bottom, buried under my smaller failings. I slowly became accustomed to the burden. In my heart the event was a place I never looked. Years passed and life with it. I never knew it, but my vision of God was warped. God is described as our Heavenly father and my earthly one twisted the metaphor. He does not measure us by our failures.
The past few years have brought about great changes in my life. I have been experiencing spiritual growth, but with it comes pain as old wounds are opened to allow healing. I surprised myself, recently, by talking about my Confirmation and breaking down in tears as I tried to explain how hard it had been to stand in front of God and everyone and lie. I discussed the event with several people, one of whom suggested I speak to a priest. There is a chance that my Confirmation may be invalid, as it was performed under duress. Part of me whispers, you could have stood up to your father, but that part is slowly being smothered as I learn to quit expecting perfection from myself. I was a child and had to obey. The knowledge that my slate may yet be wiped clean, even in the eyes of the Catholic Church helps me to lift the burden from my shoulders. I am setting this millstone down. With strength renewed I am standing a little straighter and walking a little taller.