Little Miss and Easter

One day in the shop, surrounded by cupcakes and bags of icing, Little Miss appeared at my arm.

"Mom, which is badder for you; TV or candy?"  Without looking at her, I knew she was taking in what was around the room.  Her question made sense.  We had cut the cable a few years ago, and screen time was limited, but, boy, did she have a sweet tooth.

"Um, I would think TV," I answered.

"I think so, too," she said.

I started to explain. A teachable moment, I thought. "With TV, whatever you see and hear sticks in your mind for a long time, but with candy, the dentist can fix your teeth..."

"Hmm, hmm." She started to wander off.

"Don't you want to know my reasons?" I asked.

"No, I just wanted some candy," and off she went.

*****

Last night during a church service, Little Miss drew this picture of Jesus in the clouds. When asked who he was watching over, she replied,

"The Easter Bunny."

Of course. With all of the things we've taught her about Easter, she's got her own explanation in her six-year-old mind.

Happy Easter everyone.  Know Jesus is watching over you as your kids gobble up their candy.

He is Risen :)

Little Miss on Divorce

One day Little Miss came home from school with homework that involved a discussion topic.  She was to find out what made her or her family special.

"My hair is red," she said.  The standard answer.

"Yes, but you are very smart and outgoing," I reminded her.

"Stop talking like that," she said, looking down.  She hates it when I call her smart.

"Well, what about your family.  What makes us special?"

"We have cake."

"I am sure other families' moms make cake, but yes, I suppose."

Then she says, "You and daddy live together," and I am left speechless.  "Toby's dad moved away to Toronto to a new home.  An apartment.  He's got a new job there so he's not going to be coming back.  For a long time.  Maybe never."  Her eyes were so big and serious, there was her usual "there's no way I've got it wrong" look about her, and her hands were chopping the air with every word.

"Well...I guess we are special then." I gulped.  I hate serious conversations. "But you know what else makes us special?  We believe in God and go to church.  Not many people do that, you know.  And daddy and I believe we should stay together no matter what....wait, are you listening?"

Little Miss is suddenly listening to something outside of the shop.  I can hear Mr. Man's voice giving our son a bit of trouble.

"Are you listening? What did I just say?"

Still she doesn't look at me. "Yeah, we believe in God and Toby's parents don't live together because they don't believe in God..."

"NO, THAT"S NOT WHAT I SAID!"

"What's daddy doing?" she asks, and wanders out the door.  You've got to be kidding.  She's like a dog distracted by a squirrel.

Anyway, to my readers: anything Little Miss says is generally out of her head.  I have nothing to do with it.  Well, most of it.

I'll just write down she has red hair and leave it at that.

It Could Be Worse

Recently, coffee with a friend reminded me of this blog post I never shared.  Written over a year ago, I was just starting to deal with my health in a new way, and was too vulnerable to post it.  But in speaking about processing and handling grief with my friend, today I will share it. 

"Have you ever started your day going in one direction and then have it swiftly changed for you? Was it your health? Career plans? Marriage? So often we ride through our days, just trying to get by, and the Lord can seem busy with someone else. Then other days His presence is so clear and real, and it doesn't matter if you don't get your daily list done: you know what is more important.

He comes in swoops and bounds at times: so evident in the air around us: a smiling face, a section of a novel, similar conversations within a few days. It is at these times that you "hold it in your heart" as Mary did while watching Jesus grow up.

It is when your direction gets swiftly changed that you grab onto the holy times spent with God, even though life comes crashing down.

Driving down the highway to a doctor's appointment this week, I was too overwhelmed to pray. I talked it out instead. Look at me talking to myself in the car. I was preparing myself for whatever God had in store. I've said before I worry, and I was worrying. What if? What if? What if? I imagined the worst case scenario and prepared myself for it.

But instead, I got news that I hadn't planned on. It shocked me. It turned me right around and sent me in the opposite direction. Like in the novel "Saturday Morning" by Lorraine Snelling, God spoke to me and asked, "Do you trust me?"

Even this morning I am second guessing the doctor - maybe I said the wrong thing that brought about her diagnosis? Maybe it was all in my head?

But I know He has me in his hand. He was so real to me leading up to this week. I could see Him everywhere. He was filling me up so I could count on Him within this trial.

And yet, it could be worse. There is always something worse. This is my mantra today. It could be worse.

Perhaps I am in the denial stage. We will see."

I have heard others with this same mantra "it could be worse" and yes, it's true, but lets not diminish the pain we are feeling. And the anger.  I ultimately got so angry I could see red, and I cried and cried, mourning over the loss of the freedom of being healthy.

The grieving process still circulates as symptoms arise and I am reminded of my epilepsy.  Doctor's appointments, EEGs, powerful, expensive drugs will forever be in my future.  But most days I am in acceptance.  If it doesn't get worse than this, I can handle it.  That is my mantra now.  Still not the best mantra, but it is my reality.

And still, I know He holds me in His hand.

A Re-upholstered Chair: part 1

Today I am stepping away from my "normal" nutters posts to share a project I am working on to relieve a little stress (and to persuade Mr. man not to throw it out).

My grandparents gave me a petite arm chair when I was in my teens, covered in royal blue faux velvet. As upholstery hobbyists, the two of them had put together this little beauty themselves.  The seat was deep and low to the ground, and the arms, delicately curved, were set in, making it quite narrow.  It was never built to house a large man, and low and behold, it was broken by a certain caped gentleman.

Several times he has threatened to put it out on the sidewalk with a "FREE" sign on it, but I keep hiding it in different places, out of his reach. This chair has gone with me to every apartment and house I've ever lived in, and since grandpa has been gone for several years, and now grandma, it has huge sentimental value.

So last week I set to work taking it apart, and seeing if I could fix the seat.  This is by no means a tutorial, but I am following several on pinterest :)

I took several pictures as it came apart, so I could go backwards when I put it back together.  I found a beautiful gold striped remnant just big enough to cover the chair, making the cost of fixing this girl at just over $40.00.

I paid Little Miss $2 to pull out hundreds of staples. I pulled out several hundreds more, and together we cut out the pattern on our new material.

There were a few surprises as we tore the chair apart: the webbing had come out the bottom because it had not been long enough, and there were, in fact, no springs in the chair seat at all.  I knew I couldn't handle installing springs, so I figure once this is all put together, Mr. Man will still not be allowed to sit in it (...or kids ...or cats, for that matter).

And, ew...we found horse hair. Bleck.

The chair was made of solid wood, but wasn't very secure, so Mr. drilled some added support into the legs (the first screws that had ever been put into this chair) in between thousands of staple holes and a few ancient nails.

The cat made herself a fast home in among the seat padding for a few days while I was in the cake shop.

So yesterday my son and I fixed the seat.  The Fabricland staff were great at pointing out what I needed, and off I went with the webbing, extra seat padding and gold striped material.  Monster sat at one end of the seat and I at the other, pulling, measuring, weaving and stapling until my back ached.

We were so proud of ourselves!

Whether or not this chair lasts in our busy home, I feel empowered taking on this project, and a bit sentimental. As Monster and I were examining the chair and determining how to put in the seat, I found my grandfather's markings underneath, measuring where to place the strips, and allowing us to follow his silent instructions.  It was surreal to say the least.

Next week perhaps I will get back at it. March break is filling up with play dates, and Veggie Tale concerts.  And my lower back has staple gun aches.  I'll go back to my KitchenAid mixers and convection oven for awhile.

What are you working on this month?
Erin

A Crazy Afternoon with Vertigo

Vertigo |ˈvərtəgō|
- a sensation of whirling and loss of balance, associated particularly with looking down from a great height, or caused by disease affecting the inner ear or the vestibular nerve; giddiness.

Well it sure wasn't giddiness.

More like the "swirly vortex of terror," Marlin, the clown fish sees in the East Australian Current.  

For anyone who has chronic vertigo - I salute you.  It is awful.

Now perhaps with a bit of panic thrown in I was my own worst enemy but after two hours on the bathroom floor in the fetal position, I wasn't sure what was happening.  I rested my head on the floor, waiting to see if I was going to be sick or faint or explode and decided to self-diagnose:

1.  I was awake all night and drank five cups of coffee this morning:  therefore I was suffering from dehydration and exhaustion.  But why was the ceiling swirling around in my eyes?

2.  I made and ate scrambled eggs from a box for lunch: therefore I have food poisoning.  But Little Miss had some and she was happily watching movies...

3.  I have something called vertigo.  ["What's vergo?" Mr. asks.] "No, vertigo! V..e..r.. moan.."  But I can't even sit up to google it on my laptop.

4.  In my sleepy stupor this morning, I accidently took too many milligrams of my anti-seizure medicine.  This has to be a drug overdose.  It has to be.  I can't see straight.  I feel like I'm going to be sick.  My arms are numb and my back is tight (forgetting I had also been in the fetal position for an hour and a half).

Mr. called the pharmacy and they said I would be fine, it couldn't be the drugs.  The paramedics said it couldn't be the drugs.  The doctor said it couldn't be the drugs.

Once the ambulance arrived and checked me out they said it would be up to me if I wanted to go to the hospital. 

Hmm, a quiet room? A ride in the ambulance? Time away from my kids?

"And two good-looking ambulance attendants?" Mr. says.

I THINK I'LL GO!

*****

I will say ambulance attendants work hard to cheer up their patients.  Of course they both wanted to talk cake once they figured out what I did.  One spoke of the wedding cake that never showed up:  

He was from Trenton. ["Sorry 'bout that," I said, grinning.]  He and his bride were taken in by a wedding cake scam where they had to pay everything up front, and on the day of the wedding, the baker calls, says he was in a bad car accident, and that the cake is destroyed.  No refund.

The following week my new paramedic friend says he hears this same story again, and realized it was a scam.  Needless to say, he marched in, ripped the baker's musty, worn neck brace off and introduced him to several of his officer friends.  Everybody got their refund.  Excited stuff for a cake decorator to hear!

Our next conversation involved his line of work, and I told him of the last trip in an ambulance which was from Napanee, where I grew up.

"You're from Napanee?" he asked, grinning.  "Sorry 'bout that."

*****

The doctor at the hospital came in the room right away, shook my hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Janet."  

"Um, my name's not Janet."

She ran right out again.  Then I looked up and saw a poster directly in front of me: We check your identity several times during your visit here at our hospital.  Have your wrist band ready.

I had no wrist band.  Geez, I hope they don't give me the wrong drugs...

Hours later, after watching Mr. Man play Angry Birds on his phone, pace the room and ignore the sounds of stomach flu out in the hall, the doctor came back in again and checked me over.

"Other than epilepsy, do you have any other health problems?"she asked.

"I have a heart murmur, but it's not serious.  I've just always had it." I assured her.

She checked my vitals, made me touch my finger to my nose, my foot to my opposite knee and walk in a straight line.  Then she listened to my heart.

"You know you have a heart murmur?  It's not serious, though.  Fairly normal," she said.

Mr. and I just stared.  She looked over at her chart.  "Oh, you told me that."

Mmhmmm.  And I'm the one worried about drugs...