Little Bird

Nothing like a trip to the dentist to let ya know you're falling apart. It's not too bad (the guy in the chair next door, whew, that  was bad. I heard root canal, nerve problems, take the tooth out, leave the tooth in, major work, don't chew or bite or use that tooth ...) but it's enough to remind me I am not being careful with myself. Our bodies tell us how we're doing, right? All the little things add up eventually in our bones, teeth and hair. I usually sail in and out of the dentist chair, but this time I have two problems a) a tiny cavity: not a big deal, BUT I rarely get cavities. I have been eating way too much sugar and this is the obvious result. b) apparantly I have been "stress grinding teeth while asleep which has led to some enamel loss on a few teeth." Now that's a problem. My dentist said, "what's been going on the past year and a half?! I said, "a lot." I meant, "let's take it back four years,

September will mark six years in our first house. I love this little house. I go on and on about wanting a bigger kitchen and second bathroom, but I love the arches, the old floors, the tiny closets (for their charm, not their size) and the location. I've been putting a lot of energy into our house, while J pours his efforts into the yard and  house. I love that every room holds something J built or crafted: shelves in the kitchen and bathroom, a closet system upstairs, a bookshelf, a chart to mark the kids' growth ... The backyard has come a long ways. When we moved in there was a tree near that car of B's. A HUGE one that was very diseased. After a giant branch fell during a storm and damaged the fence our first year here we had it taken down. Beyond the tree was dirt. J planted grass, built the woodshed, garden shed, patio and raised beds and last summer we received a play set (off to the side, not pictured) so the backyard is pretty much done. The bamboo

Yesterday I was making bread for Bennett and trying to come up with a clever name for the kitchen. Thinking up a name gave my mind something to think about other than the bread I've made twenty or more times. I got as far as kitchen 1939, or something of that variation, which seemed on the verge; like it could be a nice blog or small cafe if someone polished it a little. I landed on the idea of using 1939 somehow because that's when the house was built. Well, that's when I say it was built. J says 1940, but I think I dug out the deed last time we had this discussion and I'm sure it said 1939. Though most of the time I say 1940 just so I don't have to argue the point. Now that I've read back over this, kitchen 1939 doesn't seem all that clever, or original, or difficult to come up with. I'm not good with names. (I did well with the kids, in my opinion, but I had help with that.) We'll never have a cute moniker for our house so I probably shouldn&

We are one week into life with Ainsleigh and her hearing aid. There are subtle differences in her behavior. She is more attentive. She interacts and follows conversations a little better. Some things haven't changed. Anytime Ainsleigh hears a noise she turns to the right. That won't change. She'll never be able to localize a sound, or noise, or voice properly. Last week I went to the ear, nose, throat doctor we initially saw three months ago. It was a very frustrating appointment. The first thing he said was, "Oh, you decided to aid her." And I heard it as being a negative, but it was the day after Charlotte's birthday and my mood was wonky so maybe he didn't mean it that way. He also mentioned wanting to do an MRI at 18 months, even though we had shelved the idea of an MRI (or so I thought) at our initial consult. On Monday afternoon our teacher, or therapist, or whatever she is called (I don't actually know her title) from the ESD that we are

I never really woke up yesterday. I walked around in a post-watching Return to Zero traumatic haze of patchy remembered moments. I was sad and tired. Oh so tired. I am, apparently, too old and sleep deprived to stay out until almost midnight eating cookies, chatting and watching a movie. (Although the cookies were amazing. I bit into one and nearly fell over with joy because I forgot how amazing chocolate and peanut butter are together. Plus the cookie had eggs which made it fluffy and my life is sorely lacking fluffy food because of Bennett's egg allergy.) One thing Return to Zero brought up for me is, well, I'm not sure I should write about it. I may have written about it before, but I can't remember. There are topics I will always be a little scared to write about because of people and blogs who may use my words against me. But you can't make everyone happy, right? And you certainly can't make everyone see things from your point of view. So here it is:

Return to Zero is real, honest, and brave. I loved it. It was hard to watch, but it captured what it's like to lose a baby. I'm so glad they didn't shy away from showing the birth and how difficult it was. I watched with friends who have lost babies. We all have different stories, and none of our babies were stillborn, but we each were able to say, "I remember that," or "that happened to me." I know what happened to my friends. I've heard their stories. Watching the movie together last night gave us the space to talk about it again. We go over and over what happened to us because it's devastating and traumatic and we will spend the rest of our lives processing it. I'm grateful for the doors Return to Zero is opening and the avenues of conversation it is creating.  I really appreciated the understanding and explanation of miscarriage as a devastating  loss. The movie showed the universality of loss: the well meaning comments

I didn't cry this year. I didn't cry, and I didn't make cookie dough. Are we really making and breaking traditions so rapidly? Although, crying on your dead daughter's birthday is more of a right, or expectation, than a tradition. The cookie dough is less upsetting. I didn't need it. I ate plenty of other things chocolate and full of useless calories. When I went to make the cookie dough I realized we don't stock most of the ingredients in our house anymore. I had thought about that briefly when I bought chocolate chips, but the thought only made it as far as, I should get brown sugar too , before getting lost in the chaos that is grocery shopping with kids. Tuesday night Ainsleigh was sick. I think she ate too much at dinner, her belly not quite used to solid foods. She threw up over and over and over. It was really awful. I was in a state about it, of course. Mad at myself, worried, generally emotional. My irrational fear that J, Bennett or Ains wil

OMSI, cupcakes, a park with a creek, and a stop by the mill for flour. A day to be together and remember Charlotte.

Easter Sunday, 2010 I felt held today. I felt your prayers. I opened cards and read e-mails with thankfulness and gratitude.  Thank you for remembering that tomorrow we should have a little girl bouncing around the house excited to be four and reveling in a day all about her. It's still all about her, just not in the way we imagined. I was patient with the kids today. I was kind. Way, way more than yesterday. I know that was you and the prayers you rained over our house and family. I couldn't have spoken or acted with such kindness today without Jesus on my side. I don't feel well. I can't stomach much food. I am nauseated, shaky - that might be the fault of the diet pepsi I've been drinking all day - and focused on the nervous feeling deep inside that something horrible is coming and I am helpless to stop it. May 13th is hard in a different way. May 13, 2010 was my last innocent day. My last happy, joyfully expectant, thrilled to be in labor

This mama needs some prayers tonight. I was not a kind mama today. I was not kind, or patient, or my usual self. I forget how hard the stretch from Mother's Day through her birthday is. I know it's hard, I remember I don't like it, but the details always escape me. My stomach hurts. I feel nervous all the time, like I'm waiting for something bad to happen, like something is coming and it's going to hurt. I haven't thrown up from the stress of it this year. Yet. Progress! My jaw hurts because I clench it and press my teeth together. All day. I don't want the kids to see me cry. I think there are times when it is healthy. More often I have to keep it together so I don't upset or scare B. This was not a good week to have Ainsleigh's hearing aid placed, but we didn't have much say in the matter. I was trying to learn about her hearing aid and our responsibilities with it this afternoon, but I know I wasn't all there. I'm really overw