A Teacher's Grace

Over this past crazy weekend of moving,
we also had a visit from my special needs son, Dean.

We had planned on having him here months ago,
long before we knew it was going to be a crazy weekend.
We didn't dare cancel,
because, seriously, I sleep better when he's
within arm's reach.
I just do.
All is right in my world,
when Dean is visiting.

And he loves to be needed,
loves to help,
loves to be where the action is--
so this was a perfect weekend to have him visit us
when you know this about Dean.

We worked hard all day long on Saturday.
All. Day.
Packing and moving
packing and moving.
And he never once complained.
I wish I could say the same for the rest of us.
We're so much a bunch o' whiners.
I get so cranky that I consider calling
ARC to come n' get whatever they can fit into their truck
n' call it a day
cuz we own more stuff than is legal in some countries.
And the little yahoos whine so much
that to get them to help is akin
to bowling with broken fingers.

Anywho, we worked hard all day Saturday,
and come Sunday morning,
well, we didn't go to church.
Two reasons really:
Dean didn't bring his Sunday clothes,
and I couldn't find the box with my underwear in it.
I'm not kidding. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

ANYWAY,
Sunday morning, I was looking at our family picture
where all of us are smiling and looking all radiant
after being sealed as an eternal family
in the Salt Lake temple right at 7 years ago,
I got all choked up n' stuff
like I do.
Dean came over to me and gave me a big hug.
I mean, a really big hug
where he didn't let go immediately,
because normally he's a hard one to get a good hug from
as it just stimulates him too much to bear.
But not this time,
he hugged me good and tight.
When we both let go a little,
I held his hands and said,
"I want you to know that I know you have been sent here
to teach me.  Thank you for being so patient with me.  I love you so much."
And then I wrapped my arms around him again.

Then, I pulled away to wipe the tears from my eyes,
and he started to walk away towards to back door,
when he did something unusual--
he turned back to me,
smiled
and slowly
took a bow.
The whole arms stretched open,
head down,
bending at the waist
like a
"it's-my-honor-to-teach-you"
bow.
It will ever remain the most gracious bow
I have ever seen.

And made my crazy weekend
awhole lot sweeter.

I love him.

She has a Wii Face

I'm in the middle of moving...
today should be the last big push to get our
belongings from one house to the next.

I hate moving.
I'd rather have a root canal than move crap.

And you know this if you're in a big family,
with grown children--
we still have their stuff to move too!
Not even kidding.
The stuff that they can't take with them while they're in school,
living in tiny apartments, etc.
Yeah, it's all still in my basement.
And where are they during this move?

Well they ain't here, that's for sure.
Ugh.

We have filled up the Suburban to the roof
and taken excess to Good will.
There will be another trip there today.

Yes, I have taken pictures of the mess--
(thanks to Tauna for encouraging me to keep it real),
but I think the camera got packed.

I have also had to work during this process.
When I left a few days ago,
I had specific tasks for the yahoos to do while I was gone--
go thru the toys,
pick out the clothes that don't fit anymore,
etc
etc.
Not on the list?
"Pluck your little sister's eyebrows."
Yet, when I came home last Wednesday night,
the Caboose asked me if I "noticed anything different?"
I looked--
"what happened to your eyebrows?"
"Dara plucked them!" she beamed.
I looked closer--
to see that Dara had done an awful job--
not only did she pluck them,
but she used tiny scissors to cut them when the Caboose
said she'd had enough of the pain--
and to cover it up, she'd used dark brown eye shadow
over the tiny little hairs to fill it in.
It looked awful.
And I said that outloud.
Which brought tears to the Caboose's eyes--
"I thought I looked beautiful!" she cried.
I hugged her and told her she IS beautiful,
but she also looks like Groucho Marx.

She stopped crying to ask who Groucho Marx is--
just then,
the Boofus piped in,
"She looks like a Wii face!"

A what? I asked.

" A Wii Mii face. You know, from the Wii. You can pick your eye brows n' stuff for your own Mii face."

Got it.

I look at the Caboose again.

Yes, yes she does look like a Wii face.

New rule in the house:

No. 421: 

Dara is not allowed to pluck anyone's eyebrows. Ever.

Have you had to make rules based on ridiculous choices your kids have made?

The High Points

*The  closing for the new house is *supposed* to be on Monday.

*I'm a cleanin'-packin'-tossin' machine.  Nothing I don't L.O.V.E. is moving into my new nest with me.

*The yahoos are hidin' their stuff, pretty sure.

* The past few days have felt like months.  There's a story to tell about this, and I'm savin' it up to tell once I get to THE END.

*"I've still been readin' my favorite blogs...that is a true addiction, right?

*I'm too pooped to write.

The End.

SOLD!: The House Lucy and Ethel Staged!

Remember this post?

Like a homerun,
it is OUTTA HERE!


Got a house on the market?
Use a stager.
Do what it takes,
and get the results you want!

A Remarkable Birth Story

What a night.
And a day.

On my way to the hospital,
I looked west to see the last rays of the sun
hitting the backside of Pikes Peak--
it is always so beautiful.
No matter how many times
I look,
it is always different
always remarkable.

That beautifully describes the miracle of birth...
always different
always remarkable.

The young couple that invited me to be their doula
is a couple we've known for quite some time.
Papa M. is a young man that won our hearts
as a dear friend to our family
about eight years ago or more.
He remembers when The Caboose was still
in diapers.
When he was ready to pop the question to his lovely girlfriend-at-the-time, Momma A.
he was kind enough to let us know
and then brought her over to meet all of us,
and that's when we all came to know and love her as well.

My children go out into the world and bring home some remarkable people
whom we are grateful to know and love having in our lives.

So I was thinking about this as I drove to the hospital,
and listening to a lovely instrumental hymns cd--
of course, I got all choked up too.
I do that.
Alot.
But even moreso when I am on my way
to participate in a miracle.

Papa M. and Momma A.'s birth plan was taking a detour
as her medical diagnosis changed and dictated
a planned induction.
Dr. B prescribed cytotec to get labor going--
in increments of 3-4 hours of one-fourth dose
at a time.
This was going to be a long night, I knew that.
After the first dose was administered,
and we saw that Momma A.'s body was handling it very calmly,
I decided to go home for a few hours
so we could all get some rest,
and have Papa M. call me after the next two doses were given.
Also, the hospital waiting room in the L&D area
was packed full of other patient's relatives--
moms, dads, kids, granmas and granpas, aunts and uncles,
friends, grocers, classmates, fb friends of friends--
and there was nowhere for me to rest there.
Can I just say,
I don't understand this practice?
I could write a whole other blog about that topic alone.
Bottom line,
until Mom has delivered baby,
and both are in excellent medical condition,
noone is going to be let in the labor and delivery room--
and if they are,
it's going to be less than a minute.
So wait at home until you get the invitation to
"come and see", okay?
Anyway,
because there was nowhere for me to sit and rest,
I went home.

Four hours later,
I was back and the waiting room was empty.
Momma A. was awake and ready to walk.
So we cruised the halls,
sat on the birth ball,
etc.
Momma A. was making progress,
but here's what's so remarkable about this--
she didn't feel like she was in labor.
She felt no pain whatsoever.
She was the picture of calm.
She wasn't meditating,
or medi-cated,
she wasn't doing breathing or visualization exercises--
nuthin'.
Her pain receptors just didn't react to the contractions of her uterus.

Even the nurses were amazed.
According to the monitoring screen,
Momma A.'s contracting uterus was working very hard,
her tummy was as hard as a basketball,
and yet she only felt a little tightening.
No kidding!

I told her she was the envy of every mother
I've ever known
and noone would ever want to how effortless her labor was!
Truly, up until she was nearly 6-7 cms,
she felt very little discomfort.

At that point,
she did begin to feel her body working,'
and thus began a turn in her remarkable labor--
her labor quickly became the labor we all know.
It had been over a dozen hours since she'd been admitted
and she. was. tired.
And when you're a tired, laboring momma-to-be,
every thing is harder.
Her sweet Papa M. was attentive in every way--
stroking her back,
massaging her shoulders,
whsipering good and kind things in her ears...
he couldn't have been any better.
Whatever she needed or wanted,
he freely gave.
Just as I knew he would.
Yes, he is just that good.

We also had two fabulous attending nurses, Renee and Katie,
whom we all appreciated and valued their knowledge and skills
as they offered very generously.

Each of us were there to support Momma A.
in every second of every minute
as much as we could.
Finally, it was time to push!
Momma A. was very tired--
she wondered outloud if she could finish--
I assured her that she would and did have the energy to go the distance,
she just had to push past the negative thoughts!
After an hour and half of many many good pushes,
a beautiful seven-pound beauty was born!
Tiny delicate fingers,
sweet ruby lips,
dark wisps of hair,
and a cry that makes you smile your biggest smile
and cute baby toes that make you giggle!

It was a beautiful, classic birth moment--
laughter, cheers and many smiley-tears!

As Papa M. took his place at the "broiler pan" with baby G.--
Momma A. looked up at me and said,
"I can't believe I did it."

~~~~
Nearly an hour later,
the placenta had still not presented,
and after a few dramatic attempts to push it out
were made,
Dr. B took Momma A. into the OR,
where she was put under and the placenta was manually removed.
This was noone's fault,
it was simply a human body thing,
and we are so grateful for the quick response of the medical team.

Within an hour,
Momma A. was back in the same room with us
while Papa M. was in the nursery bathing Baby G.
Prayers and hugs were offered and received
and before I knew it,
their families were ooh-ing and awe-ing at the nursery window,
and it was time for me to leave my post.

~~~~
I cast my eyes to the West and over to my snow-spotted Pikes Peak...

life is so so very remarkable.
Women are so much stronger than we think we are...
birth shows us that--
no matter how it goes--
we learn how very remarkable WE are.

Memorial Day in the Mountains

~A day off means a day outside and in the Colorado Rocky Mountains~

We piled the yahoos and the dog into our big honkin' gas-suckin' Suburban
and headed to the west side of Pike's Peak
to The Crags and the trail known as
The Devil's Playground.

These boulders are so fun to climb and scramble around all over.
The trail is quintessential "Colorado"--
and we love it.

This was their first time repelling outdoors.

They spent alot of time at City Rock's Climbing wall

this past winter learning the how-to stuff.

They loved it!

 It was super windy...love her face! 
She said that her "miserably cold" face.

 the Caboose is under there...

huddling alongside the mountain...

 why yes, that is snow...

warmer and less windy once we're off the mountainside...

lady bugs! 

Daisie and her friend, Chelsa--
they hiked to the top and back.

Okay time to go home...
and boy! did we all sleep so good that night!
We were worn out!!


We love these mountains so!