Waking up.

This is not intended to be humorous. There's your warning.
I've been praying for a few years that God would wake me up again. I think I've written about this before. "Wake up baby" etc.... But I've been praying and longing that my spirit would FEEL deeply, that I would be moved to action, that I would react to things with opinion and energy, that apathy would be foreign to me again. It's been strange to feel like a very significant part of your spirit is sleeping. I don't like it and honestly, just haven't felt like myself for a while.
However, if I pause for even a few moments (and I AM right now. Which means my children are asleep peacefully. Beautiful gifts) and reflect over even the last 6 months, it is painful and powerful to attest to the events and catastrophes that are stirring me again. Truthfully, these should move anyone to tears, or laughing, or something . . .. some reaction that attests to a living being behind it.
I don't want to write about some of these things, and I know you won't like reading them . . . in a much different way than you distaste reading about the details of rotavirus . . . but for the sake of accurately documenting our lives - the outside parts and the inside soulish parts - I will include them.
1. Some of my old college friends lost their second child in a year in a horrible, tragic way. Losing a child is always horrible and tragic, but this is especially so. Losing children is absolutely unparalleled in the ways of grief and shock and confusion. It is hellish. I don't really know what this is like, as my spoonfuls of these emotions grossly pale to what I know these dear parents and extended family have endured. Even so, my own response to their tragedy has been gripping, sobering, confusing, etc...
2. I had another baby. Sweet Vera Elizabeth. And she is . . . . oh she is. Content but still energetic, a tiny bit shy, beautiful and cuddly. Can't get enough of her. Add her sweetness to his royal rowdy. Sort of a crazy house sometimes.
3. My sister, Mel, and family moved to Rajpur India less than 2 weeks after Vera's birth for an indefinite length of time. They are about rescuing, rebuilding, becoming the in-between for the poor and those who have means for them not to be poor. They work with lepers and recovering addicts and street kids and create business for local artisans (who also happen to be lepers and recovering addicts and street kids). I have their web address as a link on my page if you want to know more. But I miss them. Skype is great, but I miss being together and watching my son wrestle hers. I miss hugging her skinny lanky self. But I LOVE what they are doing, love living it through them.
4. A homeless man drowned in the river by our house this summer. I drove home one day to happen upon half of the emergency vehicles and all of the news reporters and many of the locals surrounding the scene. Both kids asleep in the back, I circled three times and witnessed them pulling the body out. It was terrible. And he hadn't been in the water for just a few hours. I still can't get over it. It made me feel so lonely for some reason. Did anyone miss you, Mr. Homeless? Why did the neighbors act like it wasn't that big of a deal? You are a big deal, Mr. Homeless. You were a human being no less than I am. Every time I now go by the scene I get quiet. I've noticed that I try to look your homeless friends in the eyes more. Try to have conversations with them like I might have with my friends. Scold myself for making judgments or giving in to fear. Even if I can't really give them a home and a fresh start, I can give them some dignity and a smile and a conversation.
5. My brother and his wife Holly had another baby, Isaac Michael. Warrick's new wrestle-me-play-trucks-forget-the-dolls buddy. So exciting, so amazing.
6. A friend of my brother, who also happens to be a Bhutanese refugee and a Hindi, told him recently that he believes that Jesus is who He claims to be . . . the Son of God. And that He wants to know Jesus and be like Him. This is a very very big deal. We don't really get the oppressive nature of some of the other world religions, and what individuals risk should they abandon their cultural "religion". Knowing what little I do, I know this statement and the actions that have followed are of landslide quality.
7. Some of my other college friends are currently facing a huge injustice. It seems, on paper at least, that they will lose their adopted daughter who is now 2 1/2 years old. They've been in legal battles for her for at least 2 of those years. They have done everything right but because of the "law" and the tiny lies of some of the people involved, the adoption may be reversed. Reversed isn't the right word . . . I don't know what is . . . . "horrible", "irrational", "inhumane". When should it ever be "lawful" to rip a healthy family apart? I can't get into this right now as it's too soon . . . too heavy right now. How do you explain these things to a child? Can hardly stomach it.
8. WSU hosted their annual "Frostbite" Classic Regatta this past weekend. We had a picnic and watched the "boat races". I couldn't help myself. My old competitive, never-give-up girl swelled out of me and I found myself loudly cheering on perfect strangers. Kids in boats who were hoping the finish line was just 2 strokes away. 2700 meters of tearing pain. I remember. My heart rate was racing with them. I've come to realize that it doesn't matter how in or out of shape I may be, I will still always be a competitor. I just am. Warrick even mimicked my cheering. "Do it! Do it!" From my, "You can do it You're almost there!" Today, there was a peaceful man leisurely (if you can say leisurely about rowing) stroking his way down the river, clearly not racing, and Warrick hung out sideways from his stroller and screamed, "DO IT! DO IT!" I loved it.
These are just the first 8 that came to mind. I could have written a lengthy entry about each one, but the days are full and I don't want to forget. I apologize for the ping-ponging of emotion and lack of transition. I AM waking up and it is good. Even though some of these things are truly horrific, I'm grateful that in it, our Sweet Jesus is raising my stilled soul again.

My cute niece, Whitley Woo.

Good friend Emmi.

My cute mom.

Aunt Amber went to school with Warrick one day.

Gma with Whit

Vera. Nearly 5 months.

I won't tell you what happened shortly after this photo.

Seriously? It's my birthday for crying out loud! Muffins??!! Give me some chocolate cake!

Yeah, I know. Not flattering. Just funny.

The crane that daddy built (with scraps and a fishing reel)

From 5 months to 90 years. Gma Ginny, Nana, me and the lovely Vera.

Breakfast with daddy

Quiet house sitting Mama.

Been almost a month. . . . for good reason, I will add.

But before I do, I will pause and enjoy this quiet house. It is a rare treat these days.

All was well and good, we were managing quite well with two small children - had a system and a plan and even managed to make relatively healthy dinners for us.

THEN, something very evil happened.

Warrick got rotovirus. Maybe from the giraffe at the zoo. We don't know. Many children in the US are routinely vaccinated against it, but need to receive it very young in order for it to be effective. Warrick was born in Australia. We delayed his immunizations. We missed the window. No big deal. Never heard of rotovirus. Must not be that bad.

Not true.

Spent the day at the zoo with Aunter Val and Whit and Jay. Great fun. Sunday morning Warrick is particularly whiney and then throws up a little. Maybe a fluke, get dressed for church, all are loaded and ready to pull away and HUGE PUKE into the car seat. Delicious. Not a fluke. Not going to church. Begins the onset of a 6 day drama. Starts with puking, obviously, and then turns to, I hate even typing this word, diarrhea.

Again, if you are easily grossed out, you will want to stop reading right now. Lots of parts of my life are not gross, but it seems I am compelled to write about icky things. Sorry. There are lots of other blogs about food and decorating if you need to stick to clean stuff.

Rotovirus diarrhea is not like your regular stuff. I will liken it to an elephant urinating. Like a large valve has been opened and substantial amounts of fluid simply spray out. It was uncontainable. I don't know why, but Huggies did not take rotovirus into consideration in the laboratory. Their products get a big fat zero from me on this one.

I will not use the word "leaking" because that is not what happened. "Pouring" is much more accurate. So much so, that if I was careful, I could remove the diaper and carry the fluid in the diaper pouch to the toilet and pour it in. True. I'm not exaggerating. I did many many loads of laundry and used many many clorox bleach wipes. At one point, I changed 4 of these in a short 20 minutes.

Enough of that. It was so sad. He didn't even stand up for two days in a row and didn't eat for 5. He lost 3 lbs. His face was sunken and sad. We made a trip to the ER on recommendation from our Pediatrician. He was okay. On the edge of dehydration, but okay. He couldn't go down the stairs because his legs were so weak and he got scared, "Momma hold you!" (interpretation: Momma, carry me.)

So, he's fine now. Actually the next Sunday, he managed to climb out of his crib. Just when you think your child needs more rest . . . . Brett and I couldn't figure out why he was talking incessantly during his nap time. We sat downstairs on the couches listening for nearly an hour (and studying, etc.). Then I realized he was saying, "I got you. I got you." (interpretation: I'm in a precarious situation and am afraid and could use a little help please)

Definitely. Balancing horizontally on the top rail of your crib for an hour is certainly precarious.

Impressive too, I might add.

So the next week he decides he's not napping.

And this particular week I decide I'm crazy.

This particular week I don't make dinner.

Don't clean my house

Don't do laundry.

Don't shower often enough.

Don't make phone calls.

This particular week I listen to my 2 year old hollering and banging on his door and waking his little sister.

This week, our disciplinary tactics go through an overhaul.

I DO, though, have someone in my hands almost all day long. Bless them.

From 3.5 hour naps to nothin.

Wow.

Those of you working professionals who don't think this is life shattering are ignorant, by the way.



Fast forward to today.

We are playing trains and I build a rockin' track with two bridges and a turn around loop. We play for half an hour. James makes several rescues when Percy and Rosie drive off the tracks. Bob the Builder's cement mixer even tries it out.

I say, "Warrick, in 5 minutes we will go upstairs quietly and take a nap. If you do not bang on your door or get out of bed or cry out loudly, you will get a special treat" (pronounced, SPAY - shull teat). If you disobey . . . . . . I can't add sound effects here, it's unfortunate . . . it's the opening measures of a spooky classical piano song. Can't remember the title or composer. Whatever.

Anyway, can you believe it? He goes upstairs, crawls into his twin bed (we moved the crib to our room so Vera can sleep in it. You don't put your small child to sleep in the same room with the larger child when he is still screaming with enthusiam, "TACKLE BABY!" on a daily basis) and he even gets under the covers and tightly closes his eyes. Thank you Jesus. What a sweet gift.

I love obedient children. I love my disobedient ones too, but life is so much more peaceful, cheerful, restful when we obey.

Cringe. How convicting . . . .



A couple of other intersting tidbits to finish.



1. Vera has been giggling and laughing ALOT. It's contagious, obviously.

2. Warrick is becoming quite skilled in the driving of his John Deere tractor from Grandpa O. and Uncle Kevin. I fear we may be accused of child labor should onlookers misinterpret . . . the child size tractor almost exactly matches the REAL John Deere mower tractor.

Today, he steps on the foot pedal while holding onto the handlebars with one hand and the back of the seat with the other. Bumping along sideways standing . . . he says, "Mama! Like trash truck!" Comparing it to the boys we wave at every Monday morning who ride on the back of the trucks. Yes, sweet son, it is very much like a trash truck.

I really enjoy this season of interesting and usually very accurate comparisons.

3. Vera was an adorable strawberry for Halloween and Warrick was a dragon/dinosaurish creature. Too much cute.

4. Last night, Warrick was hugging his new friend Miles, who is also a big hugger (finally . . . I'm so glad there is another one). They fell to the ground in a hug and Miles now tries to escape the grasp. Brett tries to pull Warrick off Miles and accidentally lifts them both. Clarification. Brett lifts Warrick who will not release Miles and so Miles is lifted by Warrick. Miles is 3 and a half. Warrick is not. Brett shook Miles out of Warrick's man-tangle onto the couch. Thankfully, Miles' sweet mother threw her head back and guffawed. I so wish I had it on video.