I miss Nyquil

I have been ignoring my blog not due to any major event or lack of desire, but due to the fact that those nasty allergy monsters have attacked me. You know the ones you see on the commercials that are absolutely disgusting? Well, they have taken residence in my throat and nose and apparently tehy brought a lot of luggage!

So, here I am infested with yuckiness. Icky, gross, yuciness.

I wonder if I hit my face against a wall would that make the pressure go away? Maybe...

So...the worst part of this whole thing is that I can't take my beloved Nyquil. I love that stuff.

That sweet medicinal nectar that brings my whole body into a state of numbness with it's 10% alcohol content. And since I'm not much of a drinking kinda' girl, just a swig, a tiny shot works wonders as I drift into dreamland and the sandman takes me away.

Well, so much for that. Instead I am resigned to Robitussin. Non effective. No alcohol, no dreamland, no sandman, nothing. I sleep with a cough drop in my mouth and vics vapor rub on my nose. And when I say on my nose, not only do I smear it under my nostrils but throughout the night I take it off my nightstand and lie with the little tub against my nose.

It's great sleep, let me tell you.

So that is where I have been.

I hope those nasty monters find another vacation spot soon.

One more minute

A while back I read an article that said to give your toddler time frames for activities. The article stated that whether they understood the concept of time or not, once it is introduced they will understand the idea that whatever they are engaged in will shortly end and they will need to move on to something else.

I thought this was a great idea.

At the time crazy kid was maybe about 18 months old or so and one of our big issues was bath time. He LOVES his bath and always has and so he wanted to stay in until he pruned up or longer.

I am all for a fun, long, warm bath because it usually ensures an easy bed time routine. At the time, however, getting out was trauma for the child.

After I read the article, I began to use the advice.

I would bathe him, wash his hair and then he was free to play for however long I decided. And when time was coming to a close, I would put up one finger and say, "Ok one more minute and then we are going to brush our teeth and put on our PJ's. Say yes mama." And he would reply, "Yes mama."

After a few times of doing this, he caught on and the transition from bath to bed became much easier.

Of course, not too long after I would say, "Ok baby it's almost time to get out," and he would quickly put up one finger. Soon after that he began to say, "One minit mama."

We learned our numbers and he realized he could add to the minutes and so now he demands two and sometimes even five minutes.

Luckily, though he understand the number sequence, he doesn't understand the length of a minute. I'm hoping that lasts a while for my sake.

This time element has been a good thing. We have fewer melt downs because it sort of prepares him for change in whatever it is he is doing. Sure, it doesn't work all the time but for the most part...

Tonight I was putting crazy to bed and I was in the rocker holding him. This has become somewhat harder, though my belly isn't protruding too much yet, it has come out some. It isn't awkward for him, but when 35lbs are on me, I tend to lose my breath easily, not to mention the heat the boy puts off.

But...I wanted to keep holding him. His little face was facing mine and I was singing to him and I kissed his soft, tanned little cheek and I just wanted to keep that moment.

Of course two seconds later he pushed off of me and asks for his father.

I kissed him and said, "Can you hold mama one more minute."

Just one more minute.

I didn't get my minute. I got a big hug and a kiss and he called for his dad.

Sometimes all I want is one more minute. Or maybe two or five.

"Father, thank you for the minutes. Thank you for blessing me with so many one minute moments. Thank you for my precious boy and all his antics and sayings and his sweet heart. And thank you for the minutes I will have with the one inside me. Father I ask that you help me to not only treasure the minutes, but to seek them out. Not to be overwhelmed by busyness, but to wait and look for the minutes in every day. In your precious name, Amen."

Mission

Mexico, 1998.

When I was almost seventeen my life changed.

Perspective changed. Reasoning changed. My world view changed.

It was one of the best and most memorable weeks of my life.
I would love to do it again.
I would do it again.

My church youth group took a mission trip to Mexico. We went over to Mission, Texas, a city directly on the US/Mexican border. We spent our nights in Texas and our days in Mexico.

I remember those days as if they were yesterday because they are so engraved in my heart.

Our mornings started early, 5 something if I remember correctly. We would meet for breakfast, morning devotionals and then we would split up into groups depending on what you were designated to. There were about 8 other churches staying at our host church as well.

This particular week was dedicated to VBS, where the various churches that we were serving across the Mexican border were hosting VBS for the neighborhood kids.

Since I spoke fluent Spanish, I was in charge of the arts and crafts section; And I was good at it. I always loved kids and at the time, I didn't know I was a born teacher, but I was.

Our church was given the poorest neighborhood.

Dirt roads. Tinfoil for walls and roofs. No AC in 113 degree weather in the shade. Outhouses for bathrooms.

I had seen poverty before when visiting Guatemala where my parents are from, but I had never walked into poverty.

My heart broke. For everyday I looked into the faces of children who had nothing. Had only dreamed of the things we had. I realized how selfish, vain and greedy I was. For just the week before I complained of the silly white keds I bought to wear.

They were in awe of our water bottles. WATER BOTTLES. Everyday we would spend $1.00 on our water bottles with the squirt top. It was the squirt top that was so intriguing to them.

I still can't get over that. Each day we gave them our bottles and like nothing purchased another the next. We all decided to collect every bottle water we could find, including the ones from other churches on the trip. On our last day, we gave them two black garbage bags full of empty water bottles with squirt tops. They were ecstatic. Gleaming, sunburned faces grinning from ear to ear. They stood in line at the measly outdoor faucets and filled their bottle and squirted each other as if they were the best water guns ever.

God was so amazing that week.

Because I spoke Spanish I was able to do so much more. I prayed for people and led people to Christ. It was incredible.

The most amazing thing was the fact that while in Mexico, everyday, I never had to pee. OK. I know what you are thinking..."that was the most amazing thing?"...but let me explain...

My boyfriend (now husband) was very concerned about my water drinking habits. I have a tendency to get very light headed and dehydrated rather quickly and so he found it his duty to be my water boy. He made me drink water constantly. And since he was taking care of me and was cute, I grudgingly would oblige.

The church we ministered at each day was very poor. The only bathroom was one that was outside in an outhouse with a light bulb on a string. We had to bring our own toilet paper from Texas. There were roaches and spiders in the outhouse. And there was no toilet, but a hole. A hole.

I, being 17, still somewhat vain and a big scaredy cat was very worried about this bathroom scenario. And everyday I prayed, along with prayers for the children, church and people, that I would not have to use that bathroom.

God cares even for our silly little vanities. Despite the amount of water I was drinking, which was, if I remember, a cup an hour, never once did I have to use the bathroom. It was 113 degrees, no AC and I suppose I sweat it all out. When we arrived back to our host church at around midnight, I would run to the bathroom. But never in Mexico.

I think that's pretty cool!

Besides that, it was an incredible experience that made me appreciate and have a true heart for the poor.

I can still remember the faces of those precious kids. They were so sweet and so good. Girls of 8 and 7 taking care of their 2 year old brothers and sisters because parents had to work. Imagine an 8 year old holding a toddler in her lap, caring over every aspect of her sibling. Children who thought the simple little beaded bracelets that were made were their most treasured possessions, begging if they could make one for their mother. Precious children who were begging to keep just one marker or one crayon. Sweet kids that come in with old worn out clothing and no shoes, but they still play soccer despite the jagged rocks.

I don't know where any of them are now. Most of them in their early twenties. I hope God made an impact through us. Do they remember the way I do? Do they think back to that week? I hope so. And I hope it was good.


Our sweet little friend, Alejandro. On the first day he was attached to the two of us. He was about 6 and a precious boy.

"My Savior, thank you for reminding me how blessed I am. I ask that you help me not to forget that or take advantage of all that you have given me. You are too kind, my Father and too good. Jesus, help all the children tonight that are hungry and tired. Pour your peace onto this dying world, but most importantly, send someone to them that will bless them and show them the Hope that is in You. In your precious name, Amen."

For more sincerities, head over to We are That family, here.

Goodnight Sweetheart

We have a bedtime routine. Not me, but crazy. As I have said before he is a very routine kind of child.

We do the same thing everynight with few changes.

In the summer (at least this summer) bedtime is at 8:30, mostly due to the fact that the sun is still up till about that time and the time change sort of threw us off and now here we are putting him to bed at 8:30.

We head upstairs, he brushes his teeth, goes potty, chooses his pj's and gets dressed. The reason he brushes his teeth first is because if his shirt were to get one tiny drop of water on it, said shirt would then be "dowty" and crazy would be in a new shirt soon after. After a few "dowty" shirts, the cleaning of the teeth happens before the dressing.

He then jumps into his dada's arms, lower the dimmer on the lights, winds the two Winnie the Pooh water globes, makes sure the closet door is closed, grabs his milk and sits in my lap in the glider.

He prays, "Jejus, help me feel better. Tank choo. Amen." And then says, "Mama pray." I pray, he proceeds to drink his milk. I finish my prayer and he points to his dad who ends the prayer chain with, "And please help him stay in bed until the sun comes up."

At the end of the prayer, my husband kisses him, kisses me and kisses the "baby" or bump.

Now lately, crazy kid is on a dad boost. He wants daddy. Which is great! I love it because it gives me a break.

So usually, my husband will be almost out of the room when crazy says, "Daddy sit." So that is what he does. He sits. And they rock out.

At this time, I lean over and kiss my child and then kiss my hubs.

Lately, however, they both have a routine that was cute. Was. It is now somewhat annoying, that is, it becomes annoying very quickly.

Crazy husband taught my son to say "syke." You remember syke, right? You know when someone would say something nice and then proceed by saying, "syke" or just kidding.

Yeah, it was dumb back then too.

So anyways, my sweet boy says that when I go to kiss him. I lean in and he puckers up, leans forward and then turns his head and screaches, "Syke!"

Yeah. It's cute the first, I don't know, 3 times and after that, not so much. And of course, my husband, being the two year old at heart, joins along and continuously "Sykes" me out as well. I soon get fed up and begin to walk out, when my son says, "Aw mom, come back." And the whole thing starts up again.

So...finally after the parent who doesn't have to sit leaves, we sing two songs. His favorites include, "Itsy Bitsy Spider," "Wheel on the bus," "He's got the whole world in his hands," "Hakuna Matata (Lion King)" and any Veggie Tales song.

He only lets my husband sing, as he calls is, "Hole whirl" that is whole world, mostly because he doesn't know the words to any other song which has led to frustration and hurt feelings. My son is frustrated and my husband is hurt because my son tells him, "No dad, no sing. Mama sing, daddy shhh," and he has even laughed at my husband's "singing." Not a ha ha kind of laugh, but a "this poor man thinks he can sing/Randy Jackson, Ha, ha ha, with a nodding of the head" kind of laugh.

After the song, crazy climbs into bed and jumps down. Literaly jumps. We have had bumps due to the head hitting the rail.

He asks for the parent who is not in the room. If it is me I sit with him for "one minute," and hold his chubby hand. I tell him I am leaving and he says "Cover feet." I cover his feet with his precious "Bie," go to the door and say good night sweetheart. He then will say, "sweetdweams," and I reply, "Sweetdreams."

I close the door and pray he sleeps through the night and doesn't wake till 8:30.

Atleast most of the time he sleeps through the night.

And that's his routine. To think one day he'll go up to his room and go to sleep by just me saying so...Not yet. I'll keep this routine for as long as it lasts.

"Father thanks for such routines. For things we can count on such as this. Help me to not take for granted these moments, but to treasure them. It may seem so distant to think one day he'll turn off his own lights and tuck himself in...God don't let those days come too fast. Even when I'm tired and ready to go, if he wants me to stay, remind me that this only lasts for a moment. In your precious name, Amen."

Gideon

I was at HEB the other day doing our weekly shopping.

My son loves HEB. He loves the tortillas, the cookies and the buddy bucks. For those of you who do not have an HEB store near you I am sorry, for it really is a great grocery store. I'm a fan, what can I say.

Well, we had gone through our routine.

We bought tons of fruit, some veggies, meat, milk, eggs, and the few other things like italian bread crumbs for bistec empanizado and rotel for my yummy rotel chicken.

Crazy had eaten half a banana, half a chocolate chip cookie, 3 tortilla triangles and 8 dried green beans. A wholesome lunch as far as I'm concerned.

So there we were checking out. Money so easily spent. I'm praying we don't go over the allotted budget which I am now the keeper of ever since my tree was cut down.

Luckliy we were under budget and I then proceeded to swipe my card.

In line crazy goes through his routine (he is such a routine child). He asks for a sticker and then buddy bucks and is very pleased over the whole ordeal.

The bagger was a very nice young man, probably 15, if that old. He bagged my groceries well and I always try to be kind to these kids because I have a soft spot in my heart for teens, plus it can't be easy baggin' groceries for houswives all summer long so...

Well this bagger had a very cool name, one I had never seen before outside of the Old Testament.

Gideon.

Names have been at the forefront of my mind lately, due to the bump, and so I am taking notice of many.

As he continued bagging, I said to him, "You have a very cool name. I don't know many Gideon's."
He awkwardly said, "Thanks, my mom got it from the bible."
"Yeah, from the book of Judges, I think. Gideon was a great warrior."
He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess so."
"Well," I said as he finished up, "it's a great name with a great story to it. I'm sure you can find it on the internet or something."
"Yeah? Maybe I'll do that."
"Thanks for bagging my stuff."
"Thank you, have a good day ma'am."

Gideon. He lived in a cave. He tested God. One day there was dew all over, the next day there was dew on one spot. He got together an army. Not a very big one. He probably thought the same thing I would have thought, "God you must be crazy!" God comes through. He has a plan and all we have to do is obey and go with it. And when you are a warrior, that is probably a lot harder to do in many cases. But, the Battle is the Lords.

Gideon. I like that name.

"Father I ask you to help the Gideon in us all. The part of us that questions and sometimes finds it difficult to trust. Help us remember that you have every moment, every trial and every battle in your hands. Help me not to look for signs, but to discern your voice and to obey. And to fight with all my heart for your glory in everything. Help Gideon wherever he may be. In you precious name, Amen."

Really?

I cooked dinner tonight. I'm talking a full out meal - Meat, rice veggie, etc. In fact, I made brownies the other day so you can say I made dessert as well. I haven't done that in a while...almost 8 weeks (ok maybe more).

To top it off, not only did I make dinner, I made one of my husbands favorite meals, Bistec Empanizado, that is cuban chicken fried steak.

Go me!

That is to say that I am feeling better. Much better.

Though I am still tired and every once in a while I get just a touch of nausea, I believe we are over that first trimester hump.

YEA!

Now I need to focus on cleaning my house. It's in disarray. Ok, maybe not that bad because if you were to come over I could do the bumble bee clean up routine and my house would look as if it were clean; as long as you don't go into any closets, my bedroom or even look to closely at anything else.

The funny thing is that now that I am feeling better, I had a moment the other day when I was like, "Am I really pregnant?" Before I was sick so the answer was "well duh!" But now that I'm not sick, I think..."Really?" And I talk to no one in particular and say, "Are you telling me I am having a baby? In like 6 months? Really?"

You would think I would have this stuck in my head by now especially since NOTHING fits. I can't even do the jean/rubber band trick. Unless the rubber band is like an inner tube. Then maybe.

And then, the other day I swear my boobs leaked. Now I was in the shower so I really couldn't tell for sure, but I had that sensation of leakage. You know that tingly (not in a good way), drainy...yeah, never mind.

But seriously...Am I really preggo? With my first I like knew. I don't remember thinking this way...of course I was working at the time so maybe I didn't have time to think about it.

Maybe once I start showing for real, instead of showing fatty it will sink in more.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I am super excited about it all. I don't know if it is due to the fact that this was not necessarily planned that I am whatever it is that I am. Maybe once I know the sex it will sink in more.

But when I think about it...Oh my gosh. 6 months! We will be in July in like 2 days. We have a few vacations planned in both July and August, then crazy kid starts school (more on that later, tear drop, sigh) in September and before you know here comes Thanksgiving and Christmas and 5 days later we have a baby. AUGH!

Ok...so I'm going to go and make a to do list of all I need to do before then.

But at least I'm feeling good enough to do all this!

"Father thank you so much for getting me through this stage. Thank you for keeping me and my baby healthy. Father I know you are all over this pregnancy and you knew about this and planned this before I even thought it was possible. You are so cool like that. I ask, my God, that you continue to bless this pregnancy and this baby. That you will give me the energy and strength to make these next few months memorable and priceless. Help me to be a good mommy again and a good wife. In your precious name, Amen."

Time is Precious

My heart has been heavy this week.
My spirit has been overwhelmed with so many emotions.

All I can do is pray and cry. I have been on my knees. I have questioned. I have searched. I have wondered and hoped.

Last week a friend of ours went to the doctor. He had been complaining of headaches for a while. He figured it was stress.

Test were done.

Soon after a phone call came from the doctor, "We have your results, you need to come in and bring your wife."

A brain tumor. They must operate. They don't know what it is. Benign? Malignant?

He's 35. He and his wife have three beautiful girls. They just had a sweet baby who is 7 months old.

God...what are you thinking? I wish I knew.

He had surgery this week. Everything went well and he is recovering well, though the tumor was malignant.

About a year ago our best friends went through a similar battle involving a parent with brain cancer. It was heart breaking and there was little for us to do. We prayed so hard. We waited for a miracle. We took in all the information we could. We prayed. We cried.

And as I prayed, I thought, "Lord, please don't let this come near my home."

The Lord works miracles. He is winning the battle, though it is ongoing, God is still moving and working.

In the last few years we have been touched by cancer. It was always one of those disease you hear about and now, I can name too many people who have battled. Some have won, others lost.

It has come closer to home, with grandparents and uncles. Please God, don't let it come any closer.

This week, this news shook me a little more so. Most people I know who have battled are older. They have lived good lives. Perhaps cut short, but older.

I kept thinking, "But God, he's our age. That's not suppose to happen. He has kids. They need him. His wife needs him."

Why?

All I know is that life is too short. Those little fights, those broken relationships, those every day struggles with people aren't worth anything. I want to live as if today is all I have. I want to forgive and move on. I want to love like crazy. I want to hug my kid everyday and hold him and tell him I love him. I want to kiss my husband everyday and hold him and keep that twinkle in his eye that is reserved for me and tell him how I love and appreciate him. I want to tell my parents and brother and my entire family that I love them. No matter the differences, no matter the disagreements. I want to put the past aside and say, I love you. Thank you for being in my life, for sharing in it all, for remembering it all. I want to encourage my friends and love on them.

I can't let any day go to waste. They are too precious.

"Father, I don't know the answers to the mysteries of this world. I don't know the answers to the why's, but I know you are in control. And I trust you. Jesus, help my friends. Pour peace and hope into them right now. Embrace them. Calm their fears. Heal, my God. Heal. Work a miracle. We are believing for a miracle. Embrace those babies where ever they are, bring them rest and peace. And father, for all the people who are sick I ask that you show yourself to them. Let them feel your presence. Let their hearts be softened to you. Father protect my home from such things. In your precious name, Amen."