Bloom Where You Are Planted

Last night, I shot straight up in bed and declared, "Little guy is going to be eleven when you're finished with your schooling!"

And then I had a "miniature" aneurysm, couldn't fall asleep for like twenty whole minutes (it takes me .003 seconds to fall asleep each and every single night---as in, if you approach me and ask, "You know how when you can't fall asleep?" no, I really don't know), and (probably) successfully made my sweet hubby feel even more pressure than the average medical student already feels 24/7.

In the light of day, I've had time to reflect.

What I keep hearing and coming back to from medical spouse's is the underlying assumption (I'm guilty of this myself) that life really begins when the one-, two-, or three-year fellowship is over. The problem, of course, with this idea is that it is not true.

So often, I feel discouraged when I hear how long the road ahead of us is. Call me naive (I've been through all of college dating a pre-med and he's now in his third year of medical school), but aren't we thinking of this the wrong way?

What happened to learning to be happy in every circumstance? Happiness does not equal complaining at every chance! Happiness does not mean dreading the years ahead! Happiness does not require that I throw enormous comments around that only weigh my husband down!

I look back on the past years, and (guess what!?) they weren't as bad as everyone was saying they were going to be. In fact, when I walk through the stress, what I look back on (other than the general feeling of 'I'd rather not go back there again') is the birth of my first child, taking a family walk, conversations around the dinner table, and that amazing beach vacation.

Something tells me that the next seven to ten years will not be any different.

...And not just something really, but God.

'Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.' Isaiah 41:10

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love Him, to enable them to fulfill the purpose for which they are called. Romans 8:28

I want to be different. When people talk about how stressful medical lives are, I want to say, "What the heck are you talking about!? I am proud of my husband! We might not see each other too much, but when we do, it's great! We have a blast! We have a beautiful son, and God has blessed us tremendously."

I don't want to put my life on hold for the next decade. Really.

When I look back (in my mid-thirties) on all of this, this is what I want to remember:

1. JOY! I want my home to be filled--just positively brimming!--with it.
2. Gratitude that God blessed my husband with an exciting and fulfilling career.
3. Having a house full of little ones that I get to love on and play with and grow with all day, every day.
4. Building up my husband to my children when he's not around. Because (guess what!?), he's going to be! Who remembers what they did day-to-day when they were little, anyway? Not me! And if I speak well and build into my children the fact that their dad loves them and cherishes them, they will know it.
5. NOT complaining about a paycheck that is just as much (if not more!) than what most families make!

Dear So-gal of the future,

I am NOT naive. These are timeless truths--timeless goals. If you are feeling discouraged/angry/sad, please remember that life is taking place right now! Little ones are growing right now! You are a mother and a wife right now! What do you want to be remembered for? You can't put life on hold because of the season of life that you're in. Enjoy it. Bloom where you are planted.

Love,

So-gal of September 2011 (who happens to also be balancing a lot on her plate right now, too)

P.S. Even after the comment that you made last night, this was waiting on your desk for you this morning:

My Guys

I love, love, love these two guys. They bless my life tremendously, and they make every single day happy. :)

Ta Ta For Now

Dear White Skinny Jeans,

Oh, how I hate to wash you and hang you up and not wear you for the next eight months. You are so very cute, and you go with nearly everything. It pains me, truly. But alas, I was born and bred a Southern girl. And all Southern girls know that with Labor Day comes the ta ta for now to the white pants.

See you after Easter.

Love always (unless you ever make my thighs look big),

So-gal

Hi and Bye

Hi!

And bye!

Mother's Day Out

Today was the toddler's first day of Mother's Day Out! Here's the abridged version of how it went:

I. Drop Off:  Toddler = fine   and   Momma = crying (with the pathetic lip quiver as I walked to the car)

II. Driving Away: Tears dry. Freedom, for the first time in 14 months, is realized. Shoe shopping. School work. Work work. Clean house. Four loads of laundry. A quiet, relaxing lunch. Grocery shopping. Did I mention shoe shopping!?

III. Pick Up: Momma = fine   and   Toddler = crying

Fee-fi-fo-fum

This little guy is my best friend.

There is just one teeeensy-tiny problem with my best friend. It takes him three-and-a-half minutes to get all yummy and ready for my toddler to devour. If you're a mom and you're reading this, you understand perfectly that three-and-a-half minutes could just as well be three-and-a-half months when it comes to food.

Maybe you have a kiddo that wakes up all goo-goo, ga-ga. Or maybe you have a kiddo like mine.

Who wakes up like the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk.

Three-and-a-half minutes? It gets tricky, folks. I've found that it's all about listening for the stir--that initial, small whispering of the sheets. It's all I need to fly like a bloody Englishman to the kitchen, rip the top off of the mac n' cheese, throw it like a touchdown pass into the microwave, and hit my knees and beg God to keep him asleep for--you guessed it--the next three-and-a-half minutes. :)

Thoughts on Cheese, From Inside the Crib

Video: Blowing Bubbles

Mother's Day In

I hopped out of bed this morning as soon as I heard the toddler on the monitor. Today was his first day of Mother's Day Out!

Backpack? Check!

Lunch? Check!

Woke up with a fever of 102? Check.

Mother's Day Out just became Mother's Day In.

Bubbles in the Fridge

I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one who stuck a yellow bottle of Miracle Bubbles next to the bagels...

More than my concern over who put the bubbles in the refrigerator (I'm pretty sure we know who the culprit is), is my concern that this little fellow was able to open the fridge. In the words of John "Biscuit" Cage (seen Ally McBeal?), "This troubles me." :)

And The Verdict Is In

This morning, I took the toddler in for his allergy testing.

I was positive of three things:

1. He looked like a wreck. Four days on no Zyrtec was not good to my little guy.
2. He was allergic to dust.
3. He was allergic to dairy.

I didn't know how much the doctor would be testing him for, so I tried to stifle any worries of 5 pricks or 50 pricks? The other side of me was glad that he was having it done so young, because he wouldn't know what was going on. It would be over before he was afraid.

His allergist is one of our long-time family friends that has known me since I was only a few years older than my little guy. So sweet. I love her to death and totally trust her.

The nurse came in and pricked him ten times. Not so bad. We can handle ten.

And then came the bad part. Having to restrain him for twenty minutes so that we wouldn't have to redo the test. Yikers. Yeah, everyone in that entire office could hear my poor child screaming his lungs out for twenty solid minutes (that, and me singing "Mr. Sun" over and over and over).

The doctor came back in, took one look at his back, and delivered the verdict:

Not allergic to anything!

What!? That's not what I was expecting. My mom sense doesn't fail me often, but it sure did fail me today!

I feel two emotions. I'm happy that my child (at least at this point in his life) isn't allergic to any major food/environmental things. Really happy. I don't have allergies, I never have, and I'm not sure I would know how to handle that. The second emotion is that I feel like once again we're hitting a brick wall.

And I know, I know, I know that I could be struggling with something a bajillion times worse than this. In fact, I thank God every day that this is all we're having to deal with! In the big scheme of things, this is no big deal!

But it still feels frustrating. We keep getting the same news. He will struggle with this for a while, maybe years. I look at his sweet little face, arms, and legs, and I feel guilty. I feel like it's my fault. And I get so sick of people asking what is wrong with my baby--MY BABY! My precious child that I would do anything in the world for. I would die for in a second. I would run fifty marathons for. My child that I pray for every day and that I love with every ounce of my being--and that I've loved before I ever knew him, ever knew my husband.

That kills me. I cannot imagine going up to anyone--and especially anyone's child--and saying, "What's wrong with his face? What's on his arms?" Or whatever. Time after time (except once, I'm going to be honest, that I walked out of the room) I just smile and say, "It's just dry skin." And you wouldn't believe how many people say, "Have you tried Vaseline?"

No. Vaseline. That hadn't occurred to me.

We've only seen eleven doctors, five of whom are specialists, and tried about fifty million creams/treatments/medicines.

But thank you for your Vaseline suggestion.

Yikes! Okay, rant over.

All that to say, I'm glad that my little guy isn't allergic to anything! Thank You, God! :)

Better Hurry!

One of the most important skills of any parent is the ability to move quickly!

Because one second, your toddler is innocently playing on the slide...

Then suddenly, he makes it to the top...

And then, he takes off like a rocket, and that's when you better get your hiney into gear!

Free Time!?

The hubbs has been in Virginia all weekend. I haven't worked. I've gotten all of my school work done. There's nothing much on the calendar.

Gasp!

What to do? What to do? I actually turned the television on. It's exciting, people. Really.

Communication

When the little guy was about ten months old, he hit an absolute language explosion. By the time he went to his one-year check-up (two weeks late...oops!), he could say twenty-one words, and after pointing up to the light and announcing "light," and pointing to the picture behind his pediatrician's head of some flowers, and saying, "flower," his doctor said, "He's at the language level of an 18-month old."


Shocking. My son likes to talk. Who would've guessed? :)

But, I am love, love, loving it!

We were in Babies R' Us on Thursday, and he started saying, "Uh-oh! Uh-oh! Uh-oh!" I was in the mom zone*, so I was ignoring my poor child and doing my usual shopping routine of finding what's necessary, and then wandering through the clothing. When we got to the check-out line, I finally said, "What? What is the uh-oh!?"

"Chew."

Sure enough. I looked down and he was only wearing one "chew" (shoe). I had to back-track through the store to where the uh-oh's began. :) I was so grateful for communication, because knowing me, I would've never realized that my child was only wearing one shoe!

The other night at dinner, I said, "Elephants are gray. Pigs are pink. What book is that from?"

His response: "Color." (From A Color of His Own)

"Very good!"

Then my hubby chimed in. "Red bird, red bird, what do you see? What book is that from?"

"Baa-boo, Baa-boo." (From Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?)

This has been the most fun and exciting stage! Now, he can actually let me know what he wants to eat or drink. We can communicate, and it is making me so happy! I know I'm just going to soak up this phase of life where he's so curious about everything and learning about new words and ideas. I can see the little wheels just turning in his brain. Three cheers for finally having a small glimpse into what is going through that kiddo's head! Hip, hip, hooray!!

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*The "mom zone" is that other world that moms occupy when they are able to completely zone everything else out in order to accomplish what needs to be done. :)

How to Eat A Flower

Step 1: Make sure that Momma is distracted. [NOTE: If you do not complete the first step, give it up. There will be no flower eating happening for you today.]

Step 2: Identify the flowers.

Step 3: Pick the exact flower that you want to dine on. Make sure that it looks nice and yummy.

Step 4: Quickly shove flower in mouth.

Step 5: Let the taste of the flower sit in your mouth; let it linger on your taste buds. Savor the moment.

Step 6: Realize that in no way does a flower taste even remotely delicious. Spit that sucker out.

Step 7: Forget the flower. Move onto the next menu item: Dirt.