Sox Win!
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Monday, October 24, 2005
To sleep, perchance to dream
I've had a lot of anxiety lately for no real reason. I worry about stuff I can't control and lay awake in the middle of the night. It must be one of the side effects of motherhood. The temptation to never EVER let Aimee out of my sight is pretty strong. I really have to stop watching Oprah.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Happy Anniversary My Love
It was 2 years ago that we walked down that aisle togather. We promised to submit ourselves to each other and to fulfill God's purpose in our lives togather. Our little Aimee was just a distant dream. We've worked hard to build this happy life togather. I love you.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
More neighborhood madness
The other day, the two 12 year old girls that live across the street came over to see if Brian could help them saw a pop can in half for a school project. He wasn't home, but Aimee was asleep and the weather was a perfect 72 degrees, so I went outside to sit on the front step and listen to them rant about how much they love Orlando Bloom, Green Day, and Simple Plan. The neighborhood kids came out one by one and they all ended up gathering around me to talk over each other and compete for my attention, everyone accept for the tomboy in 10th grade that lives around the corner.
Now, I've had my eye on this girl since we moved in. Having worked with kids in high school and middle school, I've learned to pay attention to the typical distress signals that kids give out when they need help. This girl is a walking billboard.
So she rides her bike past my house and stops at the sidewalk right in front of me to talk to the girls. I called her over and noticed a rather large bandage on her arm.
Me: Hey Sally, what the heck happened to your arm?
Sally: Oh, I fell off my bike.
Me: Oh Really? Hmmm... What grade are you in now?
Sally: 10th
Me: Are you thinking about college yet? You know you have to think about your future starting now. If you want, I can help you research schools.
Sally: Ok. Cool.
So I sent the other kids home to have my serious "college talk" with her.
Me: Hey, So show me your arm.
Sally: Why?
Me: I want to see what happened. Show me.
So she took off her bandage and I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of panic. About 50 small cuts made with a razor blade.
Me: Sally! Did you do this to yourself?
Sally: Yeah.
Me: Praying in my mind: Oh God, Please give me the words to say to this girl. Why aren't you giving me the words? What the heck do I say? Why does everything I want to say to her right now sound so cliche? What am I getting myself into? Well, I guess I'd rather sound like a total dork to her with what I'm about to say then not say anything at all.
I will spare you all the incredibly embarrassing details of what I told her. Let's just say that after fumbling for the words, I decided to just speak from the heart, and as most of you know, my heart is mostly made of sap and cheese.
I know that cutting is a disease, that an overwhelming percentage of woman that cut have been sexually abused, and that this is way out of my league. So if you remember, even if you only do it this once, please say a prayer for her. I know God is still a miracle worker, and that these are exactly the types of miracles he likes to work. I also know that having a bunch of strangers praying for her can only help. I have faith.
By the way, her name isn't really Sally, but He'll know who you are talking about...
Thanks.
Now, I've had my eye on this girl since we moved in. Having worked with kids in high school and middle school, I've learned to pay attention to the typical distress signals that kids give out when they need help. This girl is a walking billboard.
So she rides her bike past my house and stops at the sidewalk right in front of me to talk to the girls. I called her over and noticed a rather large bandage on her arm.
Me: Hey Sally, what the heck happened to your arm?
Sally: Oh, I fell off my bike.
Me: Oh Really? Hmmm... What grade are you in now?
Sally: 10th
Me: Are you thinking about college yet? You know you have to think about your future starting now. If you want, I can help you research schools.
Sally: Ok. Cool.
So I sent the other kids home to have my serious "college talk" with her.
Me: Hey, So show me your arm.
Sally: Why?
Me: I want to see what happened. Show me.
So she took off her bandage and I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of panic. About 50 small cuts made with a razor blade.
Me: Sally! Did you do this to yourself?
Sally: Yeah.
Me: Praying in my mind: Oh God, Please give me the words to say to this girl. Why aren't you giving me the words? What the heck do I say? Why does everything I want to say to her right now sound so cliche? What am I getting myself into? Well, I guess I'd rather sound like a total dork to her with what I'm about to say then not say anything at all.
I will spare you all the incredibly embarrassing details of what I told her. Let's just say that after fumbling for the words, I decided to just speak from the heart, and as most of you know, my heart is mostly made of sap and cheese.
I know that cutting is a disease, that an overwhelming percentage of woman that cut have been sexually abused, and that this is way out of my league. So if you remember, even if you only do it this once, please say a prayer for her. I know God is still a miracle worker, and that these are exactly the types of miracles he likes to work. I also know that having a bunch of strangers praying for her can only help. I have faith.
By the way, her name isn't really Sally, but He'll know who you are talking about...
Thanks.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Changes
It's so weird, but I'm SOO excited! I took Aimee for her 4 month check up today and my little girl's life is about to get more interesting! She can start to each cereal and in six weeks, she will taste her first vegetable and two weeks later, her first fruit! She can also start to play in her Excersaucer! An Excersaucer is like a walker, but it's stationary. The seat part goes around and around, so the baby can "practice" walking without really going anywhere. It has toys all around it to stimulate the baby to move. It's so cool. I will post a picture of it soon.
Anyway, I have a poll on the sidebar where you can vote for Aimee's first veggie. Brian and I will probably taste each of the choices and give her the yummiest. I'm thinking that maybe I'll just make my own babyfood. But I'd like to see what your choice would be!
Love you all!
Anyway, I have a poll on the sidebar where you can vote for Aimee's first veggie. Brian and I will probably taste each of the choices and give her the yummiest. I'm thinking that maybe I'll just make my own babyfood. But I'd like to see what your choice would be!
Love you all!
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Sunday
I stayed home from church today because Aimee was having a difficult morning. We are having to suppliment her diet with formula and she's not reacting well to it.
I was telling Brian that I feel like I'm a total mess. Two weeks ago, I felt so well put togather. I did chores every day. I managed to organize a few cluttered spaces around the house, I even made a few home cooked meals. But this week was just so brutal for me. Work is getting busy because of all of the radical changes that are going on with medicare. Another competitor has entered the market. My company is rolling out 8 new products and scrapping the 2 we've been selling. I am now responsible for working with over 200 clinics spanning from cicero to elgin, carpentersville to joliet.
My house feels so unorganized and messy to me. I can't seem to finish laundry, and who knows what my poor husband will eat for breakfast, lunch, OR dinner.
I had a unique experience today. As out of control as I felt, I made a decision to not care and to just enjoy my little girl and my big man. I decided that even though I didn't check 1 thing off of my to-do list, today was the kind of day I wouldn't mind re-living over and over again.
Marrying Brian and having Aimee are the best things that ever happened to me.
I was telling Brian that I feel like I'm a total mess. Two weeks ago, I felt so well put togather. I did chores every day. I managed to organize a few cluttered spaces around the house, I even made a few home cooked meals. But this week was just so brutal for me. Work is getting busy because of all of the radical changes that are going on with medicare. Another competitor has entered the market. My company is rolling out 8 new products and scrapping the 2 we've been selling. I am now responsible for working with over 200 clinics spanning from cicero to elgin, carpentersville to joliet.
My house feels so unorganized and messy to me. I can't seem to finish laundry, and who knows what my poor husband will eat for breakfast, lunch, OR dinner.
I had a unique experience today. As out of control as I felt, I made a decision to not care and to just enjoy my little girl and my big man. I decided that even though I didn't check 1 thing off of my to-do list, today was the kind of day I wouldn't mind re-living over and over again.
Marrying Brian and having Aimee are the best things that ever happened to me.
Living in the 'burbs
I made my first scene in front of the neighbors last night.
The grandpa to my favorite neighbors, known to many of you as, "The Pakistani Kids" showed up at my front door with a cab driver last night. Grandpa wasn't able to find the family at the airport so he took a cab. Simple solution right? Wrong. Grandpa made a few mistakes.
1. He didn't have a street name, only an address number and city.
2. He got into a Chicago Cab, which tried charging him $160.
3. He didn't have a cell phone or emergency contact number.
The family was still at the airport, frantically looking for him, calling the police, ect.
Anyway, I invited Grandpa in while we waited for the family to come home. I told him that we could call the airline and international terminal information booth to let the family know. He agreed, but the Cab driver had a problem with it. Grandpa still had to pay him.
Grandpa did have enough to pay it, but I wasn't about to let him give what was probably the majority of his cash to the driver. I demanded that the driver justify why he was charging him $160 when the standard fare is $35. The driver then showed me the placard in the cab that states that a City cab will charge a full fare and a half. The meter read $101.00.
"How could you accept him as a passenger instead of directing him to a suburban cab that would have charged him $35? What kind of person does that? You see that he's an older man, coming from another country! And you knew what situation he was in!" At this point I was yelling. See, the cab driver was African, and anyone that is here as an immigrant can understand how scary it can be for our relatives and us when they travel here and plans don't work out as expected. I once spent 12 hours at the International Terminal fighting with customs officers because they wouldn't release my pregnant cousin.
The driver calmly explained that the fare would have been close to $35 had he not spent the past hour driving him to each and every street in Aurora that had the number 3121 in the address. He declared the he had done Grandpa a great favor by finding where he was supposed to go under such circumstances. I asked Grandpa if it was true and he said yes. The cab driver was telling the truth.
At that point, our nosy neighbor Ed, who usually stands in his garage with the lights turned off when he's eavesdropping, was standing in his driveway, lights turned on, arms across his chest. Now let me tell you a little bit about Ed. He's the kind of guy who seems like he can't decide if he likes Brian or not. Brian is the best neighbor a guy could hope to have. He has every tool and machine known to man; he can fix just about anything, and is happy to help anyone fix their stuff; and he is a diligent yard guy. and he shovels snow for the single mom across the street. But it is our impression that in Ed's eyes, Brian has a small flaw. He married outside of his race and is very friendly with the Pakistanis across the street. Who also happen to be Muslim, who also happen to not obsess over their lawn. Ed and his wife completely ignore the family. One day, before they knew about the relationship we have with the kids, in a conversation with us, they called the youngest one (who was only 3 at the time) a "little son of a ....".
What kind of a person calls a toddler a cuss word?
But I digress, I convinced the driver to lower the fare and asked him for a receipt with all his info in case the family wanted to investigate or whatever. Right when we were done, a guy drives up to the family's house looking for Grandpa. He also freaked out when he heard about the fare and the scene played it self out all over again, only that he was even madder than me, and he was on the phone with the family giving them a play-by-play. In the mean time, Brian drives up to the racket we are making in the drive way and starts to freak out, "What are you doing in my driveway? This is my driveway, what's going on here?"
So the family's friend and the cab driver are duking it out, I'm yelling at Brian to calm down and explaining the situation, poor Grandpa is standing on the lawn shivering, and Ed is enjoying the show.
Everything worked out in the end. Grandpa went home with the family friend to wait for the family to come home. The cab driver got paid. The family didn't mind the fare, and Ed got his entertainment for the night and a good story to tell his wife.
The grandpa to my favorite neighbors, known to many of you as, "The Pakistani Kids" showed up at my front door with a cab driver last night. Grandpa wasn't able to find the family at the airport so he took a cab. Simple solution right? Wrong. Grandpa made a few mistakes.
1. He didn't have a street name, only an address number and city.
2. He got into a Chicago Cab, which tried charging him $160.
3. He didn't have a cell phone or emergency contact number.
The family was still at the airport, frantically looking for him, calling the police, ect.
Anyway, I invited Grandpa in while we waited for the family to come home. I told him that we could call the airline and international terminal information booth to let the family know. He agreed, but the Cab driver had a problem with it. Grandpa still had to pay him.
Grandpa did have enough to pay it, but I wasn't about to let him give what was probably the majority of his cash to the driver. I demanded that the driver justify why he was charging him $160 when the standard fare is $35. The driver then showed me the placard in the cab that states that a City cab will charge a full fare and a half. The meter read $101.00.
"How could you accept him as a passenger instead of directing him to a suburban cab that would have charged him $35? What kind of person does that? You see that he's an older man, coming from another country! And you knew what situation he was in!" At this point I was yelling. See, the cab driver was African, and anyone that is here as an immigrant can understand how scary it can be for our relatives and us when they travel here and plans don't work out as expected. I once spent 12 hours at the International Terminal fighting with customs officers because they wouldn't release my pregnant cousin.
The driver calmly explained that the fare would have been close to $35 had he not spent the past hour driving him to each and every street in Aurora that had the number 3121 in the address. He declared the he had done Grandpa a great favor by finding where he was supposed to go under such circumstances. I asked Grandpa if it was true and he said yes. The cab driver was telling the truth.
At that point, our nosy neighbor Ed, who usually stands in his garage with the lights turned off when he's eavesdropping, was standing in his driveway, lights turned on, arms across his chest. Now let me tell you a little bit about Ed. He's the kind of guy who seems like he can't decide if he likes Brian or not. Brian is the best neighbor a guy could hope to have. He has every tool and machine known to man; he can fix just about anything, and is happy to help anyone fix their stuff; and he is a diligent yard guy. and he shovels snow for the single mom across the street. But it is our impression that in Ed's eyes, Brian has a small flaw. He married outside of his race and is very friendly with the Pakistanis across the street. Who also happen to be Muslim, who also happen to not obsess over their lawn. Ed and his wife completely ignore the family. One day, before they knew about the relationship we have with the kids, in a conversation with us, they called the youngest one (who was only 3 at the time) a "little son of a ....".
What kind of a person calls a toddler a cuss word?
But I digress, I convinced the driver to lower the fare and asked him for a receipt with all his info in case the family wanted to investigate or whatever. Right when we were done, a guy drives up to the family's house looking for Grandpa. He also freaked out when he heard about the fare and the scene played it self out all over again, only that he was even madder than me, and he was on the phone with the family giving them a play-by-play. In the mean time, Brian drives up to the racket we are making in the drive way and starts to freak out, "What are you doing in my driveway? This is my driveway, what's going on here?"
So the family's friend and the cab driver are duking it out, I'm yelling at Brian to calm down and explaining the situation, poor Grandpa is standing on the lawn shivering, and Ed is enjoying the show.
Everything worked out in the end. Grandpa went home with the family friend to wait for the family to come home. The cab driver got paid. The family didn't mind the fare, and Ed got his entertainment for the night and a good story to tell his wife.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
The Hole in The Wall...
Brian and I were lucky enough to enter into marriage with the understanding that we were creating a new life together as two very differently flawed and wounded people. Our goal as a couple has been to honor God by honoring each other and serving as intruments of God's healing in each other's lives. I can honestly say that we are accomplishing that. We believe that a marriage without a clearly defined and unified purpose is a stagnant marriage, and if we are going to be stagnant in our relationship, we might as well just be roommates. I in no way want to try to convince you that we have a perfect marriage. The ruined saucepan and hole in the wall (that just so happens to fit the saucepan perfectly) are a testament to my sudden temper and Brian's moments of insensitivity. But our commitment to being honest, promising to give all of ourselves, and to work towards true intimacy ultimately supersedes our personal sinful desires to struggle for the upper hand. By the grace of God, our marriage has been our ministry.
Enter Aimee
I feel an even deeper responsibility to work through all these things that bind me. The wounds that keep me from forgiving, hoping, trusting, and asking for what I want, need, and deserve. See Aimee was given to us fresh from God's hand as a perfect, living, breathing symbol of hope and potential. "...To Whom much is given, much is expected..." If I don't care to become whole, to grow to the potential God has for my own life and to seek and accept God's healing, I cannot fully invest into her life in the way God calls me to.
I have been given much.
It is a painful to accept, but I know that I will hurt this little girl. I know that I will wound her and make mistakes. I know that someday she will come home from school crying because some teacher or mean kid hurt her feelings. I know that someday, some little boy out there is going grow up with his own hurts and will have his own moments of insensitivity when dealing with her. I know that Brian and I won't be able to shield her from the sinfulness of this world that will scar her spirit. But we can pass on the tools to help her deal... The knowledge of the love of Christ. Our own surrender to each other and to the will of God. An environment that helps her discover who she really is.
Much is expected
I am aware. Yes. I am aware that I will never be the perfect mom. My ministry is myself right now. Because I can't be a whole mom, or wife, or anything without that. I am seeking healing, forgiveness, hope, trust, and the boldness to request what I need. I will start with this, a request, remember me as you pray.
ps...Don't worry people. I stopped throwing things a good year and a half ago...
Enter Aimee
I feel an even deeper responsibility to work through all these things that bind me. The wounds that keep me from forgiving, hoping, trusting, and asking for what I want, need, and deserve. See Aimee was given to us fresh from God's hand as a perfect, living, breathing symbol of hope and potential. "...To Whom much is given, much is expected..." If I don't care to become whole, to grow to the potential God has for my own life and to seek and accept God's healing, I cannot fully invest into her life in the way God calls me to.
I have been given much.
It is a painful to accept, but I know that I will hurt this little girl. I know that I will wound her and make mistakes. I know that someday she will come home from school crying because some teacher or mean kid hurt her feelings. I know that someday, some little boy out there is going grow up with his own hurts and will have his own moments of insensitivity when dealing with her. I know that Brian and I won't be able to shield her from the sinfulness of this world that will scar her spirit. But we can pass on the tools to help her deal... The knowledge of the love of Christ. Our own surrender to each other and to the will of God. An environment that helps her discover who she really is.
Much is expected
I am aware. Yes. I am aware that I will never be the perfect mom. My ministry is myself right now. Because I can't be a whole mom, or wife, or anything without that. I am seeking healing, forgiveness, hope, trust, and the boldness to request what I need. I will start with this, a request, remember me as you pray.
ps...Don't worry people. I stopped throwing things a good year and a half ago...
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