You have no idea how excited I get when I hear the 'T' sound. Ethan's latest love is trucks. We'd be driving along and he would begin making noises and pointing. Each time I turned, I didn't see anything. The problem was, I just looked past the big semi-rigs. I had no idea that these large machines fascinated him so.
His mom noticed. So she set out on teaching him how to communicate this. I don't know how she did it, but she taught him to say 'Tttttt.' So now when I hear the 'T' I look with enthusiasm to see what he is referring to. And I try to reinforce the 't'ruck when I see it. The only problem is he also likes Trains, Tractors, & Transformers and has found the 't' sound works for all of those.
But it brings such great pleasure hearing him 't', 't' 't'ing. He is communicating.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Monday, December 01, 2008
The Gift That Keeps On Giving
Growing up, my mom never insisted that I make my bed. She had more important things to think about. Besides, if I'd made my bed, it would have taken the fun out of jumping on it. As an adult, I love having a nicely made bed. It makes my bedroom look clean and tidy.
Sometime last year, I made a deal with Michael. Whoever crawls out of bed last makes the bed. This sounded like a perfect arrangement to me. You see, 5 days a week, I get up first. On the weekends I sleep later. Plus it makes sense. If I get up first, I can't make the bed right away. It's a chore to come back later just to make the bed.
It never ceases to put a smile on my face when I walk into the bedroom & find the bed made. For me, it looks like a beautiful gift, wrapped in perfect packaging. Michael makes the bed so much nicer than I do. I've never actually watched him do it, but it looks like it takes him a long time. The pillows aren't just thrown, but neatly placed. (I figure throw pillows should be tossed and land where they may.) The comforter hangs down evenly. The sheets and blankets are tucked so they don't fall below the comforter. A simply delightful gift that brings joy each time it is presented.
The bed makers gift? He gets to sleep a little longer.
Sometime last year, I made a deal with Michael. Whoever crawls out of bed last makes the bed. This sounded like a perfect arrangement to me. You see, 5 days a week, I get up first. On the weekends I sleep later. Plus it makes sense. If I get up first, I can't make the bed right away. It's a chore to come back later just to make the bed.
It never ceases to put a smile on my face when I walk into the bedroom & find the bed made. For me, it looks like a beautiful gift, wrapped in perfect packaging. Michael makes the bed so much nicer than I do. I've never actually watched him do it, but it looks like it takes him a long time. The pillows aren't just thrown, but neatly placed. (I figure throw pillows should be tossed and land where they may.) The comforter hangs down evenly. The sheets and blankets are tucked so they don't fall below the comforter. A simply delightful gift that brings joy each time it is presented.
The bed makers gift? He gets to sleep a little longer.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thanksgiving Leftovers
Outside everything is blanketed in snow. I love how it clings to the bare tree branches, as if to clothe their winter nakedness. It's a perfect day to put on a pot of homemade soup and bake bread. So soon after Thanksgiving, one would think I'd whip up turkey vegetable soup. And I would. If I could.
After a lovely Thanksgiving dinner, our wonderful guests cleaned up everything. It wasn't as if I just kicked back and did nothing. I put a few things away. But as I looked at the paltry leftovers in the refrigerator, I couldn't recall stripping the last of the turkey meat from the bones. Nothing was saved for soup-making. Michael, as usual, carved our bird. He removed only as much meat as he thought we'd eat, and saved the rest to be removed later. In their zeal to help, someone must have ditched the carcass without realizing how much meat was left. Sigh. Oh well. I did feel sorry that we had no leftovers to share with our guests. There was only enough for us to enjoy sandwiches the next day. Selfish, I know.
When I awoke the next morning, I found a dirty pan sitting on my clean, kitchen counter. Sometime during the night, Michael had awakened. I don't why, but he remembered putting the turkey back in the oven when we sat down to eat. And there it sat for the next 12 hours or so. When he remembered at 5, bagged it up and threw it out. I chastised myself for mentally accusing my dinner guests of disposing of the remaining turkey. I really feel guilty for not sharing the leftover bits.
So instead of turkey stew, a big pot of chili is in the crockpot.
On a more positive note, I do have a leftover can of whipping cream. MMMM...my mocha mint coffee was delicious topped with whipped cream, and a dash of red sprinkles.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thankful
I wish I'd cleaned my oven before today.
I wish I'd cleaned my refrigerator out too.
But I'm thankful that I have a lovely oven and a refrigerator full of food.
I wish I hadn't gotten a root canal right before Thanksgiving.
I wish I didn't have to get another root canal.
But I'm thankful I can still chew, just very carefully.
I wish I'd cleaned my refrigerator out too.
But I'm thankful that I have a lovely oven and a refrigerator full of food.
I wish I hadn't gotten a root canal right before Thanksgiving.
I wish I didn't have to get another root canal.
But I'm thankful I can still chew, just very carefully.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thanksgiving Memories
Thanksgiving Memories
(Previously posted, but as I prepare for Thanksgiving, and pumpkin pies, this memory comes to mind.)
My first attempt to make an entire Thanksgiving meal on my own, and my inlaws were coming to visit. I had 2 small children, and I worried how I would get everything done. Preparing for houseguests was stressful. Cleaning our 3 bedroom home, picking up toys, the day to day activity of a 4 year old, compounded by a toddler that loved making messes...did I mention lots of cleaning? Add that to Thanksgiving with all of the trimmings, & I felt more than overwhelmed. I wanted so much to provide a comfortable, relaxed home for my inlaws to enjoy & to serve a delicious meal, eaten in the company of sweet, well-behaved grandchildren.
The day before Thanksgiving, our guests arrived the day. I stayed up late that night, wanting to get a start on the big day. After everyone had gone to bed, I baked the pumpkin pies. The next morning, I was exhausted, and didn't hear my children get up. How must that look to the grandparents? A mother who doesn't get up and have breakfast waiting for her children? I dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. There stood my little boy.
"Yum, yum! This is good Mommy."
Christopher was covered in orange goo. So was the chair he stood atop and the table. Both pies were missing most of the pumpkin. This was before digital cameras, but I doubt I would have grabbed the camera. This was not a Kodak moment. I started to cry.
Thankfully, I have the best inlaws in the world and should not have worried. In fact they probably cooked more of the dinner than I did. They were a huge help and very encouraging. I never felt the need to impress them again. Afterall, they'd had 5 kids and understood that little boys loved eating pumpkin pie. Somehow, when you are a grandparent you don't stress over those things.
Eighteen years later when I awoke to find another small boy eating the middles of my pumpkin pies, I grabbed my camera. Yum, yum! I love being a grandparent to Ethan.
(Previously posted, but as I prepare for Thanksgiving, and pumpkin pies, this memory comes to mind.)
My first attempt to make an entire Thanksgiving meal on my own, and my inlaws were coming to visit. I had 2 small children, and I worried how I would get everything done. Preparing for houseguests was stressful. Cleaning our 3 bedroom home, picking up toys, the day to day activity of a 4 year old, compounded by a toddler that loved making messes...did I mention lots of cleaning? Add that to Thanksgiving with all of the trimmings, & I felt more than overwhelmed. I wanted so much to provide a comfortable, relaxed home for my inlaws to enjoy & to serve a delicious meal, eaten in the company of sweet, well-behaved grandchildren.
The day before Thanksgiving, our guests arrived the day. I stayed up late that night, wanting to get a start on the big day. After everyone had gone to bed, I baked the pumpkin pies. The next morning, I was exhausted, and didn't hear my children get up. How must that look to the grandparents? A mother who doesn't get up and have breakfast waiting for her children? I dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. There stood my little boy.
"Yum, yum! This is good Mommy."
Christopher was covered in orange goo. So was the chair he stood atop and the table. Both pies were missing most of the pumpkin. This was before digital cameras, but I doubt I would have grabbed the camera. This was not a Kodak moment. I started to cry.
Thankfully, I have the best inlaws in the world and should not have worried. In fact they probably cooked more of the dinner than I did. They were a huge help and very encouraging. I never felt the need to impress them again. Afterall, they'd had 5 kids and understood that little boys loved eating pumpkin pie. Somehow, when you are a grandparent you don't stress over those things.
Eighteen years later when I awoke to find another small boy eating the middles of my pumpkin pies, I grabbed my camera. Yum, yum! I love being a grandparent to Ethan.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thunk Thursday on Friday
How hard is it to say, "You're Welcome?" The phrase is traditionally said after the "thank-you" offering. So where does a "no problem" response fit in this equation? People, it doesn't.
I'm walking along. The woman passing through the door in front of me stops to hold it open. I turn and say, "thank-you." Flippantly, the phrase seems to roll off her lips, "no problem." I'm sorry. I didn't think it WAS a problem. Was it really that difficult of a task that you felt the need to let me know it wasn't really a problem? Next time I'll hold my own door, thank-you-very-much.
Is "you're welcome" more difficult to say than no problem? It's 3 syllables. It isn't as if "no problem" is quicker and easier to blurt out. Like I said, 3 syllables.
"You're welcome" implies that the person was glad to offer their service to you. To me, it's a simple way to say, "anytime you need the door held open, I'm happy to do it for you." It sounds kind, courteous.
The "no problem" response does not express this same friendly attitude. It comes off as, "I'm trying not be rude, so I'll answer "no problem," but truthfully my action to help you out IS an annoyance to me.
I phoned the doctor's office this morning. It took some doing to schedule an appointment. I thanked the receptionist for the extra effort she put towards working with me. Her response: "no problem." Grrr...this is my newest pet peeve.
The next time I hear someone squelch my thank-you with "no problem," I'm going to ask, "is it sometimes a problem?" Or maybe, "I'm sorry, is it often a problem for you to hold the door open?" Or what if I am rude back and tell the receptionist, "you're right, it wasn't a problem for you to set the appointment. It was your job."
I'm walking along. The woman passing through the door in front of me stops to hold it open. I turn and say, "thank-you." Flippantly, the phrase seems to roll off her lips, "no problem." I'm sorry. I didn't think it WAS a problem. Was it really that difficult of a task that you felt the need to let me know it wasn't really a problem? Next time I'll hold my own door, thank-you-very-much.
Is "you're welcome" more difficult to say than no problem? It's 3 syllables. It isn't as if "no problem" is quicker and easier to blurt out. Like I said, 3 syllables.
"You're welcome" implies that the person was glad to offer their service to you. To me, it's a simple way to say, "anytime you need the door held open, I'm happy to do it for you." It sounds kind, courteous.
The "no problem" response does not express this same friendly attitude. It comes off as, "I'm trying not be rude, so I'll answer "no problem," but truthfully my action to help you out IS an annoyance to me.
I phoned the doctor's office this morning. It took some doing to schedule an appointment. I thanked the receptionist for the extra effort she put towards working with me. Her response: "no problem." Grrr...this is my newest pet peeve.
The next time I hear someone squelch my thank-you with "no problem," I'm going to ask, "is it sometimes a problem?" Or maybe, "I'm sorry, is it often a problem for you to hold the door open?" Or what if I am rude back and tell the receptionist, "you're right, it wasn't a problem for you to set the appointment. It was your job."
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Wordless Wednesday
Thankfulness: I am thankful to live in such a beautiful state and witness the handiwork of God every day.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Urgent Text Message
I am in the kitchen washing dishes, when I hear the ping of my phone. I dry my hands wondering who is sending me a message. I read:
~Mom, are you near the computer?~
I remember 9/11. We were glued to the t.v. all day watching with horror. It couldn't be anything like that, Michael was at his computer. He checks in with CNN regularly. I text her back:
~No~
I remember April 20, 1999. It was another day in Colorado we sat riveted to the screen as we watched the tragedy of the shooting at Columbine High School. Ping! My hands are wet again. I grab a towel.
~Can you get on the computer for me real quick?~
Cell phone in one hand, a kitchen towel in the other, I head to the computer.
~Ok, what do you need?~
~You know that chicken on bugs bunny and friends and his name was like Colonel something and he was big what was his name? My history class wants to know.~
I'm a little confused. But like any good mom, I begin a google search.
~Foghorn Leghorn~
~Well which is it?~
~No, that is his whole name.~
~LOL cool thanks~
I'm still texting my reply
~Foghorn is his first name, he played with the dog. Nobody said his name really.~
~Thanks Mom! That was driving us crazy~
That evening I ask her what that was all about. She said she was in history class and they couldn't remember the chicken's name. It was driving the teacher crazy that nobody could come up with it. So he told her, "Hilary, text your mom. You're always texting her in class anyway."
I'm thinking I need a raise for providing entertainment to the school history class. Either that or I just need to get a job. I obviously have way too much time on my hands-at least that's what everyone thinks.
Thankfulness: I am so very thankful I've been able to stay home and raise my children.
~Mom, are you near the computer?~
I remember 9/11. We were glued to the t.v. all day watching with horror. It couldn't be anything like that, Michael was at his computer. He checks in with CNN regularly. I text her back:
~No~
I remember April 20, 1999. It was another day in Colorado we sat riveted to the screen as we watched the tragedy of the shooting at Columbine High School. Ping! My hands are wet again. I grab a towel.
~Can you get on the computer for me real quick?~
Cell phone in one hand, a kitchen towel in the other, I head to the computer.
~Ok, what do you need?~
~You know that chicken on bugs bunny and friends and his name was like Colonel something and he was big what was his name? My history class wants to know.~
I'm a little confused. But like any good mom, I begin a google search.
~Foghorn Leghorn~
~Well which is it?~
~No, that is his whole name.~
~LOL cool thanks~
I'm still texting my reply
~Foghorn is his first name, he played with the dog. Nobody said his name really.~
~Thanks Mom! That was driving us crazy~
That evening I ask her what that was all about. She said she was in history class and they couldn't remember the chicken's name. It was driving the teacher crazy that nobody could come up with it. So he told her, "Hilary, text your mom. You're always texting her in class anyway."
I'm thinking I need a raise for providing entertainment to the school history class. Either that or I just need to get a job. I obviously have way too much time on my hands-at least that's what everyone thinks.
Thankfulness: I am so very thankful I've been able to stay home and raise my children.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Bad Grandma
Not only did Ethan not take his leg braces home with him, but this is what happened to his other pair of shoes.
Monday, November 17, 2008
We All Need Support
Ethan & Christina came over on Saturday. As usual, the first thing he did when he came inside is kick off his shoes. There was one differnce. He was also wearing his braces. Those came off too.
He stayed with me Saturday evening, while Christina had a night out. We played cars, watched a movie and did laundry-Ethan's choice. (I am thankful I remembered to cap everything tightly.) We filled the washer with dirty clothes. When it was full, Ethan insisted on filling the dryer with them too. Made me wish I'd taken the clean clothes out first.
Before he went to bed that night, I set his braces neatly on the bottom shelf, so they'd be easy to find. But when Christina went to leave yesterday, they were no where to be found. She and I searched for over an hour. The clothes hampers, laundry chute, the toy boxes...all of the places he'd been where he might have placed them. I couldn't imagine when they were moved or where. We finally gave up and they left without his braces.
I was frustrated, as I'd been so careful to put them neatly away. This doesn't happen often. I continued wandering around the house trying to imagine what a 6 year old might do with his foot/leg supports. And then I prayed.
"God where are these? I know that YOU know what happened to them." I wondered aloud if he even needed them. Were they doing him any good? Maybe it was good they were lost. "But Lord, it would be nice to know what has happened to them. Would you please help me find them?"
I went into my bedroom & opened the storage closet. There atop my boxes sat the braces. I have no idea why he would put them there & shut the door. But I am thankful that God answers prayer.
(Speaking of prayer, in my sidebar is a link to Terry's blog. His wife Julee is having a biopsy of her breast today.)
He stayed with me Saturday evening, while Christina had a night out. We played cars, watched a movie and did laundry-Ethan's choice. (I am thankful I remembered to cap everything tightly.) We filled the washer with dirty clothes. When it was full, Ethan insisted on filling the dryer with them too. Made me wish I'd taken the clean clothes out first.
Before he went to bed that night, I set his braces neatly on the bottom shelf, so they'd be easy to find. But when Christina went to leave yesterday, they were no where to be found. She and I searched for over an hour. The clothes hampers, laundry chute, the toy boxes...all of the places he'd been where he might have placed them. I couldn't imagine when they were moved or where. We finally gave up and they left without his braces.
I was frustrated, as I'd been so careful to put them neatly away. This doesn't happen often. I continued wandering around the house trying to imagine what a 6 year old might do with his foot/leg supports. And then I prayed.
"God where are these? I know that YOU know what happened to them." I wondered aloud if he even needed them. Were they doing him any good? Maybe it was good they were lost. "But Lord, it would be nice to know what has happened to them. Would you please help me find them?"
I went into my bedroom & opened the storage closet. There atop my boxes sat the braces. I have no idea why he would put them there & shut the door. But I am thankful that God answers prayer.
(Speaking of prayer, in my sidebar is a link to Terry's blog. His wife Julee is having a biopsy of her breast today.)
Saturday, November 15, 2008
A Bad Hair Day/Updated
Maybe he is more observant than I thought. Or maybe not. Michael was perusing my blog and the photos from yesterday's post. He noticed something "strange." So he asked me about it.
"When did your dad begin parting his hair on the other side?"
"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
He went on to point out that in the older photos his hair was parted on the left, but the newest one it is on the right.
Do men really care or notice these things? (I think I could come home with my hair blue and it would be awhile before he noticed.)
I surmised that in older pictures, taken with film, the image was possibly flipped. While in newer, digital photos, they were correctly oriented.
We studied more photos. Nope. Michael pointed out that in one photo Dad had a pen in his pocket. He assured me he had it on the left side of his shirt. I argued that my dad is left handed and maybe he put them in his right pocket. My detail-oriented husband noted that his shirt only had one pocket. Men's dress shirts often have only one pocket, I was informed. And that would be on the right. Who knew these things?
So we are waiting for my dad's response. Why would he begin parting his hair on the "wrong" side? As women, we do side parts, middle parts, no parts. Men do not change the side on which they part their hair. Not a man who goes to the barber shop. I've been told.
So Dad, which is it? My last guess is that occassionally the barber parts it incorrectly and cuts it that way. Dad then has to live with it until the next haircut. To me, that would be like having a bad hair day for like a month. Horrors! I would hate that.
I received this response from my dad:
I grew up with my hair being parted on the left side. I never questioned it, that is just the way it was. I don't know if my mother parted it that way because I was left handed and it would be easier or if the crown was more on the left. Anyway, years later after I quit parting my hair and just combed it straight back, I decided to start parting it again. I noticed it didn't seem to part so easily on the left side, but my hair seemed to naturally lay over to the left making it easier to part on the right. I started parting it on the right and have done so ever since. Being left handed, it would be easier to part on the left, but my hair doesn't seem to cooperate. Funny you should bring that up. It has been quite awhile now that I parted it on the right. Can't remember the last time I parted it on the left.
"When did your dad begin parting his hair on the other side?"
"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
He went on to point out that in the older photos his hair was parted on the left, but the newest one it is on the right.
Do men really care or notice these things? (I think I could come home with my hair blue and it would be awhile before he noticed.)
I surmised that in older pictures, taken with film, the image was possibly flipped. While in newer, digital photos, they were correctly oriented.
We studied more photos. Nope. Michael pointed out that in one photo Dad had a pen in his pocket. He assured me he had it on the left side of his shirt. I argued that my dad is left handed and maybe he put them in his right pocket. My detail-oriented husband noted that his shirt only had one pocket. Men's dress shirts often have only one pocket, I was informed. And that would be on the right. Who knew these things?
So we are waiting for my dad's response. Why would he begin parting his hair on the "wrong" side? As women, we do side parts, middle parts, no parts. Men do not change the side on which they part their hair. Not a man who goes to the barber shop. I've been told.
So Dad, which is it? My last guess is that occassionally the barber parts it incorrectly and cuts it that way. Dad then has to live with it until the next haircut. To me, that would be like having a bad hair day for like a month. Horrors! I would hate that.
I received this response from my dad:
I grew up with my hair being parted on the left side. I never questioned it, that is just the way it was. I don't know if my mother parted it that way because I was left handed and it would be easier or if the crown was more on the left. Anyway, years later after I quit parting my hair and just combed it straight back, I decided to start parting it again. I noticed it didn't seem to part so easily on the left side, but my hair seemed to naturally lay over to the left making it easier to part on the right. I started parting it on the right and have done so ever since. Being left handed, it would be easier to part on the left, but my hair doesn't seem to cooperate. Funny you should bring that up. It has been quite awhile now that I parted it on the right. Can't remember the last time I parted it on the left.
Friday, November 14, 2008
One Week Later
Last Friday we celebrated my parents' 50th wedding anniversary.
I flew into town on Wednesday evening. Friday morning we met at Greg's home and began working feverishly. Greg cleaned and moved furniture. His wife, my sisters, and I decorated & cooked. As we worked, I couldn't help but notice how each one of us gave of our gifts and talents. The creativity & organization was truly amazing. I caught a glimpse of how God gifts His people and by working together we can do awesome things. Everything flowed smoothly and a great time was had by all.
Thank-you Mom & Dad for being the best parents ever. We've gleaned much from your guidance & wisdom in knowing when to speak truth to us and when to step back and give us room to learn from our mistakes.
Your love and generosity extends not only to family, but so many others.
Your faith and commitment have stood strong and set a firm foundation for your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren & future generations.
Your spirit of adventure gives us the courage to journey into deeper waters.
Happy 50th Anniversary Mom & Dad!
I'd share the video I we gave to mom & dad, but it's 12 minutes long. Instead, here are a few photos from it:
November 8, 1958-Mom & Dad's Wedding
(Yes, they were teenagers, 18 & 19)
Mom & Dad 2007
And just for fun, I submit the following:
1975-Me & Dad, My Confirmation
Homecoming 1976, My date, Me, my brother Greg and his wife Kathleen
1976 Mom & I with their first grandbaby, Michael (& yes, those were my silver teeth years)
1978 Me, Dad, and the first grandchild, Michael (and the fancy van conversion dad bought as he neared his 40th birthday)
1989 Me holding Elisabeth, my mom holding Sarabeth the day we had her dedicated, Christina & Christopher
Mom, my sisters Carolyn & Laurie, Me Can you guess the year by the hair and big glasses? (Since I have curly hair, I wasn't sporting the perm look and didn't need glasses, lol.)
I flew into town on Wednesday evening. Friday morning we met at Greg's home and began working feverishly. Greg cleaned and moved furniture. His wife, my sisters, and I decorated & cooked. As we worked, I couldn't help but notice how each one of us gave of our gifts and talents. The creativity & organization was truly amazing. I caught a glimpse of how God gifts His people and by working together we can do awesome things. Everything flowed smoothly and a great time was had by all.
Thank-you Mom & Dad for being the best parents ever. We've gleaned much from your guidance & wisdom in knowing when to speak truth to us and when to step back and give us room to learn from our mistakes.
Your love and generosity extends not only to family, but so many others.
Your faith and commitment have stood strong and set a firm foundation for your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren & future generations.
Your spirit of adventure gives us the courage to journey into deeper waters.
Happy 50th Anniversary Mom & Dad!
I'd share the video I we gave to mom & dad, but it's 12 minutes long. Instead, here are a few photos from it:
November 8, 1958-Mom & Dad's Wedding
(Yes, they were teenagers, 18 & 19)
Mom & Dad 2007
And just for fun, I submit the following:
1975-Me & Dad, My Confirmation
Homecoming 1976, My date, Me, my brother Greg and his wife Kathleen
1976 Mom & I with their first grandbaby, Michael (& yes, those were my silver teeth years)
1978 Me, Dad, and the first grandchild, Michael (and the fancy van conversion dad bought as he neared his 40th birthday)
1989 Me holding Elisabeth, my mom holding Sarabeth the day we had her dedicated, Christina & Christopher
Mom, my sisters Carolyn & Laurie, Me Can you guess the year by the hair and big glasses? (Since I have curly hair, I wasn't sporting the perm look and didn't need glasses, lol.)
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Do you hate going to the dentist?
I often hear people complain how much they hate going to the dentist. When asked why, their answer usually suprises me. I expect to hear a horror story of a mad, tooth-yanking dentist with wild eyes and a crazed look. Usually I hear, "I don't like someone having their hands in my mouth," or "I hate it when he scrapes the plaque off my teeth."
Normally I don't mind going to the dentist. Running my tongue over perfectly polished teeth gives me a thrill. But at my most recent dental visit, I fought off tears throughout. Several times the doctor's assistant patted my shoulder in her attempt to comfort me. The funny thing is, I LIKE this dentist.
I don't have a harrowing story to recollect for you, at least not outside of my own imagination.
After this particular visit, I climbed into my car. I told myself "this isn't a big deal, why the tears and emotion?" I found the answer in an old familiar sadness, perched atop my heart. I recognized the message it was transmitting: Forever Changed, never the same. It was as if I'd just received the permanent stamp marked "defective."
Even my beloved dentist had said more than once during this visit, "I wish I had a magic wand to wave, that would take you back to before you had this dental work done. But I don't." I had so hoped he could work a miracle, & change what another dentist had done. But his words told me know he didn't possess that kind of power.
What brought about this wish to go back to before? A crown. Plain and simple, only it wasn't. I suppose I was naive about the true definition of "crown." It actually sounds a bit glorified. I imagined a crowning bit of gold atop my tooth, raising it to the status of royalty. A crowned king. The dentist never explained that to crown my tooth he would attack it with mighty power tools. He would grind it down to a mere nub, cover it up with an imposter tooth causing excruciating, unending pain. Then he would declare it call it a king, er, crown. And that is what he did.
My life isn't the same. I don't like the change. I want my old tooth back. The one that emerged 44 years ago. I've experienced this before.
I remember having the same painful desires from November, 1971. I woke up that cold morning, hoping it had all been a dream. The night before, my siblings and I had created a slick ice slide. Outside our back door stood a long ramp leading to the back yard. Originally built to accomodate a wheelchair, it became a form of amusement to the four of us. We were fascinated to find that a glass of water, when spilled at the top, would freeze before reaching the bottom. We tried larger cups of water. To our amazement, no matter how much water we poured, it froze fast to the cement. We began using buckets. Before long, we had our very own tilted ice rink.
Two at a time, we raced to the bottom of the ramp. This continued until we were shivering cold. My competitive brother challenged me to one final race. Just wanting to go indoors and get warm, I reluctantly agreed.
"On your mark. Get set. Go!"
Down we went. Realizing he was about to lose, Greg swung his arms forward. Using me as a spring board, he shoved ahead to win. My feet slipped beneath me and I fell face forward, leaving my 2 front teeth broken off & stuck in the ice.
An emergency trip to the dentist left me with 2 new teeth. Nobody called them crowns, and they weren't made of gold. When I looked in the mirror the next morning all I saw were shiny silver teeth.
I wanted my old teeth back. The ones I'd had before. I wore sadness. Life would never the be the same. Marked with "forever changed/defective," my smile was stamped shiny and metallic. Forever was 10 long years.
My teeth now sport white fronts, but the silver backs remind me that they are unnatural. The pain of my crowned tooth speaks the same. I want my old tooth back.
I've joined the group that hates going to the dentist.
Normally I don't mind going to the dentist. Running my tongue over perfectly polished teeth gives me a thrill. But at my most recent dental visit, I fought off tears throughout. Several times the doctor's assistant patted my shoulder in her attempt to comfort me. The funny thing is, I LIKE this dentist.
I don't have a harrowing story to recollect for you, at least not outside of my own imagination.
After this particular visit, I climbed into my car. I told myself "this isn't a big deal, why the tears and emotion?" I found the answer in an old familiar sadness, perched atop my heart. I recognized the message it was transmitting: Forever Changed, never the same. It was as if I'd just received the permanent stamp marked "defective."
Even my beloved dentist had said more than once during this visit, "I wish I had a magic wand to wave, that would take you back to before you had this dental work done. But I don't." I had so hoped he could work a miracle, & change what another dentist had done. But his words told me know he didn't possess that kind of power.
What brought about this wish to go back to before? A crown. Plain and simple, only it wasn't. I suppose I was naive about the true definition of "crown." It actually sounds a bit glorified. I imagined a crowning bit of gold atop my tooth, raising it to the status of royalty. A crowned king. The dentist never explained that to crown my tooth he would attack it with mighty power tools. He would grind it down to a mere nub, cover it up with an imposter tooth causing excruciating, unending pain. Then he would declare it call it a king, er, crown. And that is what he did.
My life isn't the same. I don't like the change. I want my old tooth back. The one that emerged 44 years ago. I've experienced this before.
I remember having the same painful desires from November, 1971. I woke up that cold morning, hoping it had all been a dream. The night before, my siblings and I had created a slick ice slide. Outside our back door stood a long ramp leading to the back yard. Originally built to accomodate a wheelchair, it became a form of amusement to the four of us. We were fascinated to find that a glass of water, when spilled at the top, would freeze before reaching the bottom. We tried larger cups of water. To our amazement, no matter how much water we poured, it froze fast to the cement. We began using buckets. Before long, we had our very own tilted ice rink.
Two at a time, we raced to the bottom of the ramp. This continued until we were shivering cold. My competitive brother challenged me to one final race. Just wanting to go indoors and get warm, I reluctantly agreed.
"On your mark. Get set. Go!"
Down we went. Realizing he was about to lose, Greg swung his arms forward. Using me as a spring board, he shoved ahead to win. My feet slipped beneath me and I fell face forward, leaving my 2 front teeth broken off & stuck in the ice.
An emergency trip to the dentist left me with 2 new teeth. Nobody called them crowns, and they weren't made of gold. When I looked in the mirror the next morning all I saw were shiny silver teeth.
I wanted my old teeth back. The ones I'd had before. I wore sadness. Life would never the be the same. Marked with "forever changed/defective," my smile was stamped shiny and metallic. Forever was 10 long years.
My teeth now sport white fronts, but the silver backs remind me that they are unnatural. The pain of my crowned tooth speaks the same. I want my old tooth back.
I've joined the group that hates going to the dentist.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I'm Back
I didn't think I could do it. I went an entire week without so much as logging on to the computer. It wasn't necessarily by choice. Did you know most airlines now charge $15/each way to check a bag? This coupled with the fact that I don't own a laptop, I managed to do avoid staring at a computer screen for days. My eyes are rested, as are my fingers. I think my elbow feels better too. But gosh, do I feel out of touch. I didn't realize how much time I spend on here.
The last week of October, I did it. It must be contagious. I began playing Christmas music. The very next day, across the street, the neighbors lights showed up. No, they weren't for Halloween. These are most certainly for Christmas. When I arrived home this week, Christmas lights twinkled next door also. It is beginning to look and sound like Christmas. (I wonder if it is too late to decorate for Thanksgiving.)
I had a wonderful time while I was gone, but it is good to be home.
The last week of October, I did it. It must be contagious. I began playing Christmas music. The very next day, across the street, the neighbors lights showed up. No, they weren't for Halloween. These are most certainly for Christmas. When I arrived home this week, Christmas lights twinkled next door also. It is beginning to look and sound like Christmas. (I wonder if it is too late to decorate for Thanksgiving.)
I had a wonderful time while I was gone, but it is good to be home.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Decision Day
The day has finally arrived. Never have I heard such venomous arguments between people of opposing political sides. Friends, family members, co-workers spewing angry, degrading remarks at one another, because of their particular party persuation. What a show we have put on for the rest of the world in the "United" States of America.
The phrase "United we stand, divided we fall resounds in my ears." Patrick Henry used the phrase in his last public speech, given in March 1799, in which he denounced The Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions. Clasping his hands and waving his body back and forth, Henry declaimed, “Let us trust God, and our better judgment to set us right hereafter. United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs.” At the end of his oration, Henry fell into the arms of bystanders and was carried almost lifeless into a nearby tavern. Two months afterward he was dead.*
The Kentucky & Virginia Resolutions were written to keep more control at the State Level in order to oppose Federal Laws. Power. Control. Who is in charge of making decisions for the people?
Doesn't seem like much has changed, but I did find the little tidbit of Patrick Henry's demise interesting.
*From Wikipedia
The phrase "United we stand, divided we fall resounds in my ears." Patrick Henry used the phrase in his last public speech, given in March 1799, in which he denounced The Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions. Clasping his hands and waving his body back and forth, Henry declaimed, “Let us trust God, and our better judgment to set us right hereafter. United we stand, divided we fall. Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs.” At the end of his oration, Henry fell into the arms of bystanders and was carried almost lifeless into a nearby tavern. Two months afterward he was dead.*
The Kentucky & Virginia Resolutions were written to keep more control at the State Level in order to oppose Federal Laws. Power. Control. Who is in charge of making decisions for the people?
Doesn't seem like much has changed, but I did find the little tidbit of Patrick Henry's demise interesting.
*From Wikipedia
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
A New Week
Ah, a brand new week. Normally I don't like Mondays, but today is different. I looked at my calendar and what did I see?
No costumes to create.
No school parties to plan.
No cupcakes to bake, no decorations to make.
Nothing. I have nothing to do.
Honestly, I never thought I'd see this day come. I couldn't imagine it in my wildest (or calmest) dreams. But it is here.
I was warned by older ladies that children grow up in the blink of an eye. It isn't that I didn't believe them. But back then, I didn't have time to blink. It was one of those things that would have to wait. Somewhere along the way, my eyes grew weary & closed. The blink happened.
This week, I will watch moms rush about with their little ones. I will smile. I won't bother to tell them to stop and enjoy the moment. One day down the road, their eyes will momentarily shut. They will glance at the calendar, but it will look different. It will be empty. A smile will spread across their face. Together we will relax and enjoy the memories.
No costumes to create.
No school parties to plan.
No cupcakes to bake, no decorations to make.
Nothing. I have nothing to do.
Honestly, I never thought I'd see this day come. I couldn't imagine it in my wildest (or calmest) dreams. But it is here.
I was warned by older ladies that children grow up in the blink of an eye. It isn't that I didn't believe them. But back then, I didn't have time to blink. It was one of those things that would have to wait. Somewhere along the way, my eyes grew weary & closed. The blink happened.
This week, I will watch moms rush about with their little ones. I will smile. I won't bother to tell them to stop and enjoy the moment. One day down the road, their eyes will momentarily shut. They will glance at the calendar, but it will look different. It will be empty. A smile will spread across their face. Together we will relax and enjoy the memories.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Speaking of Dancing
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Anyone Care To Dance?
In some Christian circles, dancing is controversial. The school associated with my church does not allow the high school to have dances. Kids from over 150 different churches attend. To avoid divisions, they chose to opt out of dance activites. The funny thing is, the church has no problem with dancing during worship services. I know, some reading here might be horrified to think of me moving my feet and (gasp!) dancing during church. But we do. Why not? King David danced before the Lord. His bride mocked him and found herself barren the remainder of her life.
Here are some dancing photos from the wedding:
(I have no idea...)
Here are some dancing photos from the wedding:
(I have no idea...)
Friday, October 17, 2008
Thoughts
I'm not sure why. I guess it takes time to digest a big event. Months of planning, preparing, anticipating and then it is over. Every night, before falling asleep, memories of the wedding/rehearsal/reception/brunch, etc. play in my head. When I awaken, it is the same. It has a hold on me, like a favorite book or movie.
I look forward to the return of the newlyweds. There was no time to spend with them after the big event. I want to hear their thoughts, feelings, and such. What moments were most memorable? Moments of joy, stress, tenderness...I want to know how it went for them. Without a doubt, they are reliving every part of their celebration.
At the rehearsal, Michael made a toast to the couple. I wish I'd had a video camera. After reminding Christopher of the longevity of marriages in their family history (we are at 25 years, Lauren's parents 33, my parents are getting ready to celebrate their 50th, Michael's parents their 59th,) he went on to give Christopher a few words of advice. I hope I get this right.
He said to tell his new wife he loves her at least once each day.
Tell her often how beautiful she is.
And lastly, if she sends him to the store, he should get very specific instructions so as not to bring home the wrong thing. (I think I might have forgotten something, but that was the gist of it. Maybe he will comment or someone else whose memory is better.)
Did I post a pic of my girls yet? If not, here they are:
Elisabeth, Hilary, Sarabeth, Christina, & Ethan in the front.
I look forward to the return of the newlyweds. There was no time to spend with them after the big event. I want to hear their thoughts, feelings, and such. What moments were most memorable? Moments of joy, stress, tenderness...I want to know how it went for them. Without a doubt, they are reliving every part of their celebration.
At the rehearsal, Michael made a toast to the couple. I wish I'd had a video camera. After reminding Christopher of the longevity of marriages in their family history (we are at 25 years, Lauren's parents 33, my parents are getting ready to celebrate their 50th, Michael's parents their 59th,) he went on to give Christopher a few words of advice. I hope I get this right.
He said to tell his new wife he loves her at least once each day.
Tell her often how beautiful she is.
And lastly, if she sends him to the store, he should get very specific instructions so as not to bring home the wrong thing. (I think I might have forgotten something, but that was the gist of it. Maybe he will comment or someone else whose memory is better.)
Did I post a pic of my girls yet? If not, here they are:
Elisabeth, Hilary, Sarabeth, Christina, & Ethan in the front.
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