Wellllll let's update this thing a little.

Very long time no post. Eeny will turn 5 in July. Rooster just turned 3. And the newest addition to our family, Pollywog, turned 1 year old this past week.

The baby bug has bitten, and bitten hard. Bleh. We're still in the same house, DarthHusband is doing the same job, and aside from a stronger and healthier marriage, things are still very same-y. :)

I work as an office administrator for a church, and the boys come with me. It's nice to have the flexibility to do that, but I'm ready for summer, when DH will take the boys while I work.

I don't remember suppositories being meds used when I was growing up. On the other hand, maybe I blocked the memory. Eeny was prescribed some over the weekend for some impressive vomiting. He seems to be done with that now, thank God, since he wasn't able to eat anything for 2.5 days. He's keeping crackers down now.

The Rooster was running a fever of 102, the second highest ever for him, poor thing. Motrin helped, and he actually slept all night. They both did, which totally weirded us out, as we rarely make it through a night without one of them needing something.


There are only two good things about having sick kids. 1) They're cuddly and will let you snuggle them all day. Darn that attachment parenting for making them so freaking independent. ;) 2) They're so tired from not being able to keep anything down that they can't move out of the way of the camera.

Therefore, I present to you a photograph of my children, being sick and watching Finding Nemo for the 97835908357th time:

[IMG]http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c114/theladyeowynofrohan/SickbabiesandNemo8-136.jpg[/IMG]

They have a doctor's appointment in the morning. Eeny said, "I'm gonna see Doctor ____, and then I feel better."

For a three year old, he's got a remarkably good grasp on cause and effect. For instance, making the sounds of water splashing on tile causes Mommy to yell, "Water stays in the tub!!!" from the room where she's dressing the baby. It's apparently "funny."

Further note: responding with, "I'm just spilling it," does not have the desired effect of keeping Mommy the heck away from the bathroom in order to avoid seeing the half inch of water all over the bathroom floor. It also does not stop her from turning purple and working very hard to (successfully) maintain her temper while lecturing said three year old on the appropriateness of water on the floor outside the tub in a house she'd like to sell eventually. On the other hand, it's not like there haven't been enough puky sheets and towels in this house. What's a few that are wet with actual water instead?

I'm getting my packets together for my doula service. It's going well so far. I have a potential client who wanted to talk more in a month or so. That was last month. I should drop her an e-card, but I don't want to be pushy.

The Rooster has fallen asleep on the floor behind me. It'll be a busy week. One of my clients and dear friends is finding out the sex of her baby this week, and I'm on tenterhooks until she does. I wanna know. :)

More introspection

Before the battery on the Lappy dies. Anyway, I think I'm understanding myself more. The CPS incident (see the entries from November and December of 04) hurt me so much because I am an extrovert. I'm a very extroverted extrovert, too. Simply put, I need people to be okay. I need people around me, sharing my joy and my triumphs. I need people to understand me and just let me know I'm normal (at least, the more I learn, the more I think I am). We will probably never know who made the call. That part is really difficult for me. I don't know who (among those I knew at the time) I can trust. To an extrovert, not being able to trust is to choke the life out of a relationship. To have that necessary for emotional okay-ness thing taken from you is devastating.

I have also noticed that I take nearly any blanket statement made and try to apply it to myself. I try so hard that I've often taken statements that don't apply to me at all and made them about me. This, I think, is the root cause of my anxiety. I doubt I'm okay, because I hear I'm not. It even calls into question my salvation. There are so many different ways of looking at it and how one is supposed to go about obtaining and hanging onto it, that I've convinced myself I didn't really get it done right in the first place. Emotional truth: I haven't done exactly the right thing to be saved. Reality: I've prayed the sinner's prayer. God is real and is in my life and I do what I can, tentatively on my part. I'm so nervous sometimes. I don't know God well. In some ways, it feels presumptuous to even try. I'm scared of Him. Scared he's going to squash me like a bug or sacrifice me like a pawn in a chess game. Every time I think about any of the negative earthly consequences of following Him, I get so focused on the negative consequences, that I get very afraid of them. My flesh (and often my spirit, too) doesn't want any pain or bad things to happen. There's no guarantee that they will, but my negative side refuses to believe that. I've somehow made myself think that because I feel that way, I'm somehow less saved than someone who's all in. I am all in. In my head, I'm all in. It's my emotions that won't shut up long enough to let me know it. It's like there's a buzzing in my head and a lens focused on exactly what I'm afraid of. I'd type more of it out, and even all of it out, but it would trigger a massive panic attack, and I just can't handle it right now.

At this moment, the only thing I can focus on (besides sending this to my dad, which I will do), is the here and now, for me and my family. I can't concentrate on other places, because it's too much for me to think about and me to worry about. The Lord will take care of it--it's all His anyway....

So for now, I'll finish reading my email, then snuggle my sweet baby boy (who put himself to sleep tonight) then I'll sleep and go talk to my dad in the morning. Baby steps.

It's really freaking long, but here...

Grab a snack and pee before you start it...there's only three songs, and they're good ones. :)

Create your own video at One True Media

Argh!

He's teasing me. DarthHusband has been playing handsies, footsies, or whatever part of his body he can touch me withsies all freaking day. I'm ovulating and he knows it. We use NFP and avoid during fertile times. It's absolutely not fair for him to tease me like that when he knows it's not "safe." Grr. Sometimes I think Mr. I Don't Want Another Baby Right Now's resolve is rather weak, and he wouldn't mind having another one. There's been an awful lot of girl babies born lately, and it's made him rather dopey.

I'm going to bed now. If he jumps me, and I get pregnant, I'm saying it here and now. I warned him.

I'm open to another baby whenever. He's not. Therefore, I do my part by letting him know I'm ovulating and he does his part by staying the heck away from me.

Ha.

Oh!

And it's Eeny's 3rd birthday. Happy Birthday Sweet Baby Boy!!! http://hometown.aol.com/hiseowyn/myhomepage/baby.html

Crackers.

I, yes, I have landed myself in therapy.

Perhaps it was the meltdown over not being able to attend the upcoming Wiggles concert (August 8) with my whole family (seriously, wtf), or maybe it was the massive anxiety attack I had throughout X-Men 3 on Sunday night after we dropped the boys off with my mom for their first overnight together (I'd have been fine if the movie had been more engaging). Anyway, my husband asked my sobbing, disintegrating self this morning if it might help if I see someone. I think he was expecting me to fly up off of the couch and kill him for suggesting it. Instead, I wanted to ask him what the fuck took him so long to realize I am not myself and need a little bit of help. He's on the other computer right now, running the insurance approved list of care providers past my dad for a recommendation.

Whee!

He's walking!

The Rooster's officially walking!!! He has been for the last two days. When he falls, instead of crawling somewhere, he now gets up and walks. It's bittersweet.

Here's my clan crest--I like it:


And here's the new avi:




Day 239873 (okay, so more like day 5) of GCM being down, and I'm in withdrawal. I've been forced to become more active on my local moms forum. Hmph. I'm headed out to a Mary Kay mani/pedi party. Pedi party. Heh. I hope I enjoy it, even though it will be an evening full of girls.

What happens when I get bored...

I watched "Dear Frankie" last night, while frosting and fondanting (made up word alert!) the above creation. I need cookie cutters, and lots of 'em. I had to do that flower by hand, and I'm sooooo not impressed. Re: "Dear Frankie": it was good. I liked it, and as always, Gerry Butler = hot hot hot.


I recall a friend of mine's mother, who had recently moved here from London, took one look at Dad and me and pronounced us soundly of Scottish descent. We are--my great-grandfather came to Canada from Scotland.