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Showing posts from September, 2014

Sleep is Not For Me

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Dear Coren,

I'm sorry you had such a difficult time going to bed tonight. I do, however, find it interesting to hear that all the crying about being too scared to sleep scared the fear away and allowed you to sleep. Are you suggesting that next time I just need to allow you to have an epic fit and then you'll calmly go to your room and sleep? I'd rather avoid the crying. Let's talk when you're better rested. 
And...

Dear Husband,

I have no idea what was so important for someone in your dream to look at, but yelling "look!" in your sleep doesn't help me sleep at all. In fact, it helps me have heart palpitations.

And while I'm at it...

Dear Alia,

You are creepy. Especially when you're sleepwalking and stand right next to my bed and stare at me until I wake up. You are even creepier when I ask you if you need anything and you inform me that you can't seem to find your scalpel. Thank you for going back to bed as instructed. I'm hiding all the …

Mister Adorable

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I have a child who is absolutely adorable. He always has been. I have a feeling he always will be.

But he's just turned NINE and therefore he can no longer, not under any circumstances, be considered adorable. He admits to having been adorable when he was little, but most definitely not now. Cute, maybe. But NOT adorable. Not one little bit. So whatever you do, don't tell him that I said he's adorable, and definitely don't mention the title to this post.

He is smart, and funny, and has a memory like you wouldn't believe. He always makes sure to give hugs and kisses before bed, including giving me some to give Daddy when he gets home from work. He can be completely oblivious to the world around him at times, and at other times notices everything all at once. He has a kind heart and a gentle spirit. And he's adorable.


I'm sorry, Coren Ryu, but you are adorable.

You are charming, delightful, and inspire in everyone you meet a great affection for you. You just can&…

A Special Bunch of Heroes

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Today I remember a select bunch of heroes. 

Thirteen years ago, I loaded my precious cargo into the car, turned on the radio, and heard the words, "Smoke is pouring out of one of the World Trade Center towers." I ran into the house, told my husband to turn on the tv, and got back into the car. As I drove, I listened to an NPR reporter who was on the streets of New York City. I listened as the second airplane hit. As I pulled into a parking space in front of the fire station, the first tower fell. Upon entering the fire station, I wasn't sure what to say first - to wish my sister a happy birthday or to break the news in case she hadn't heard. That's when I noticed the tv in the office and the firefighters gathered around it. Approaching the fire fighters, I was assured that our fire station field trip would continue as scheduled. 

As our group of adults, toddlers and preschoolers explored the fire station, learned about the different types of fire trucks, the firefi…

The Prince of Cures

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It's the antidote to anger, sadness, to what ails us. As unexpected as it seems, it really works! This revolutionary cure was discovered quite by accident. My life will never be the same. 

It all started one day when I had a chocolate craving. I decided gluten-free brownies were in order, so I baked a batch. Well, it might be more accurate to say I attempted to whip up a batch. One would think that I would learn, after numerous failed attempts, that brownie baking just isn't my forte. Too crisp around the edges, the brownies were more than a little gooey in the middle. There was no saving them. 


As the "brownies" were baking, one of my children, who was having an exceptionally bad day, all but locked himself in his room. Even the prospect of brownies wasn't enough to alter his mood. Good thing, too, because what a disappointment it would have been to have his mind set on a rich, crumbly brownie only to be let down. 

Darn prednisone. Now all I can think about it brow…

Back to Life

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It's that glorious time called Back To School. It's the time when all the schoolchildren are off to school, leaving homeschoolers to run free. Nothing against schooled children, mind you - we have lots of friends who go to school, it's just when kids are in school, it's a bit different in the world.

To us, it's more like Back to Life. Our busy Summer is over, and we can move at a more leisurely pace. It's nice having much-less-crowded museums and science centers to explore; parks basically to ourselves, especially during little kid naptimes. We love movie matinees in nearly-empty theaters and walking beaches without tripping through a maze of beach chairs and blankets. 

It's back to homeschool co-op on Fridays and Tuesday Night Sunday School. It's back to sermon notes and daily journal writing. It's back to the library to explore new topics and then out in the world to expand our horizons. 

It's staying in our pajamas all day if we want to, remembe…

A Dose of Angry

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I took my dose of angry not too long ago. The kids are starting to get super annoying, even though they aren't doing anything out of the ordinary. Random electronic noises are really grating my nerves and there's nothing good to read, to listen to, or to watch. Suddenly there's something wrong with everything and everyone. 

It doesn't help that my pain levels are through the roof, even though the angry is supposed to be helping get rid of what's supposedly causing the pain. It's frustrating that the angry makes me want to do ALL THE THINGS, but my body does not want me to do any of the things thankyouverymuch. 

My children have been warned, and my husband knows the drill. Once I'm on mass doses of angry, I'm a ticking time bomb if I don't keep myself in check. The littlest thing can set me off. And yet I willingly subject myself to angry just so I can function - and this time, in addition, for diagnostic purposes. 

The angry is supposed to be helping, …

Hoping for the Worst

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It's strange. I brought my child in for a medical test, and part of me hopes, prays that what we suspect is wrong is wrong. Even though it will require surgery and an unpleasant recuperation, I pray it's the answer. The poor kid needs to sleep!

Last week I took Zachary, age fourteen, for a sleep study. He arrived in pajamas, movie and books in hand, and got hooked up to all sorts of monitors as he settled in for the night. I got to stay the night, too, in a recliner in the same room. My prayer for the evening: "God, please let the boy sleep. Please let him sleep poorly. Please let them find the cause of his frequent waking at night and the exhaustion he feels even after what he thinks is a good night's rest. And please let it be his tonsils." This child has huge tonsils. He snores nearly every night. Of all the possibilities for his sleep disturbances, big tonsils is on the not-too-bad end of the spectrum, so I guess it's not really hoping for the worst, but it…