Before Josh was born I remember a few people asking me if I was worried about how much life would change going from one to two kids. At the time I said no, I wasn't especially worried, I figured it would all sort itself out eventually. Besides, what's the point of worrying about the inevitable? I once heard someone say that change, even a welcome change, brings stress and difficulties. And I knew that having a second baby would be a welcome change, albeit a stressful one at times.
For the most part, it hasn't been so bad. I've already been through the baby stage once before, so I am less worried about getting everything right this time. I think what I didn't anticipate was the guilt I would feel when both kids need me at the exact same time, and I am not able to meet both of their needs right away. They say the love in your heart multiplies when you welcome a second child, but I think I needed my hands to multiply as well. Sometimes there is just not enough of me to go around.
Like when Abby wants to eat lunch, and Josh decides he needs to nurse at that exact moment too, and when they aren't fed IMMEDIATELY both end up screaming and crying and I run around like a maniac trying to satisfy everyone. Or when Abby wants to go outside and play and I need to get her shoes on and Josh needs a diaper change at the same time, and again, when either of them has to wait for even 3 seconds, they end up screaming.
I've had to just accept that at any given point in time one of my children is most certainly going to be crying and/or screaming and tell myself that I am doing the best I can.
But it makes for a long day.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Many are the plans in a mother's heart
It's been a long time since I blogged. As a matter of fact, I haven't written one this entire pregnancy. I think it has something to do with running after my 2 year old all day, and dealing with high blood pressure throughout this pregnancy that leaves me with very little physical or mental energy at the end of the day.
But today I am 37 weeks pregnant, with just 2 more weeks to go, so I thought I would get one pregnancy blog in before we bring home our new son or daughter. Be prepared, it's a long one, 9 months in the making!
It's amazing to me how much our children teach us, even before they are born. I have been learning so many lessons from this little one already. But I think the hardest, and most important one is that "many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails" (Proverbs 19:21).
I have never shared Abby's birth story, but her story has a lot to do with how I wanted the birth of this little one to happen. I had a difficult pregnancy with Abby, including gestational diabetes and preeclampsia. I remember walking into the doctor's office when I was 37 weeks pregnant with Abby, and my blood pressure was so dangerously high that I had to be induced immediately. I was blessed with a wonderful team of doctors who took excellent care of me, but there were many frightening moments during labor, including a time when Abby's heart rate was so low I was almost wheeled into an emergency c-section. At the last second Abby's heart rate came back into the normal range, and I was able to avoid surgery. But my epidural caused me severe back pain for weeks following her birth, and I struggled with my blood pressure for 3 months. I am so blessed that she was born healthy, beautiful, and ready to take on the world. But I was scared about what the next pregnancy would bring.
This little one made his or her presence known to me right away. I remember the moment I knew I was pregnant. Ben and I had been working on a number of home projects, and one afternoon in August I was taping up our large bay window so that I could paint the trim. I was standing on the window seat working in the hot afternoon sun, and all of the sudden nausea hit me like a strong wave. And that's when I knew... I was only 3 weeks along! The doctor couldn't believe I had morning sickness so early on. But this baby has always had plans of its own.
I had much worse morning sickness those first 12 weeks than I ever did with Abby. Food was my enemy, and there was a period of about 3 weeks where all I could stand to eat were Ramen Noodles. But once those first 12 weeks passed, I started to get my energy back and feel much better. I knew my next hurdle would be taking the test for gestational diabetes. I had a big scare when I took the test while pregnant with Abby. It caused my sugar to go so high I had to be admitted to the hospital for a day until I was stabilized. Needless to say, I was very nervous to take the glucose test again.
It was around the week that I had to take my glucose test that I started praying and asking the Lord to help redeem the experience I had with my first pregnancy. I desperately wanted things to be different this time. I remember the day I received the call from the nurse telling me I had passed the glucose test. I didn't have diabetes this time!! I literally shouted for joy on the phone. I felt like a weight had been lifted from me, and I was convinced that this meant the rest of the pregnancy would be "easy". I knew that with no diabetes I was considered "low risk" for the first time! And so I began to think a lot about what I wanted in terms of my labor and delivery. Many are the plans in a mother's heart....
Part of what made my experience with Abby so difficult was the intense pain that my epidural caused for weeks after her birth. It made bonding with her and caring for her so much more difficult, and made my recovery much slower. Because of this and a few other reasons, I made the decision that I wanted to have a drug-free birth this time around. I knew it would be difficult and painful, but I hoped that it would also make my recovery faster and easier. Once I knew this is what I wanted, I began to look into the possibility of switching practices, as part of me just wanted to get as far away from the difficult memories of labor with Abby in the hospital and do something entirely different. I found a wonderful birth center, with very experienced midwives. I called and talked to them about my history and hopes for this birth, and they were extremely supportive and shared my vision entirely. They had a facility that felt like home. It was such a calm and soothing place! But they told me that they could only accept me into their practice if my blood pressure stayed low, and everything else remained 100% low risk.
I had my first "official" appointment with them at 30 weeks. I walked into their office excited about my new birth plan, and so excited to have the hope of a completely different experience this time. I sat down and in the exam room, and started my appointment. And that's when all of my plans started to unravel. When the midwife took my blood pressure that day it was 155/110. Dangerous to me and the baby. I laid there being monitored for 2 hours while the midwives discussed what would need to happen next. They told me that unfortunately, with my history, and my current blood pressure, that I could not be their patient and could not deliver my baby with them. They called my original doctor, who asked that I be sent to his office immediately. When I arrived at his office, with Abby in tow, he made it very clear that he was angry I had switched practices, and that he felt that it was a very poor choice on my part. I was crushed. Not only did I have to give up my plans for birth at the birth center, I now had an OB who was frustrated with me and felt that I had made a choice that could have compromised my health. After another few hours of monitoring, my blood pressure came down enough that I was allowed to go home. I had to start blood pressure medication immediately. And I was now high risk. Again.
It took many weeks to feel "normal" again after that. Blood pressure medication works by slowing everything down in your body. If I thought I was tired before I started that medication, fatigue had a whole new meaning after I began the medication. It was frustrating, as it made it very hard to care for Abby, and I had to rely on the help of family and friends to get through those first few weeks adjusting to the medicine.
But by about 33 weeks, I started to feel much better, and my body began to get used to the effects of the medicine. One of the side effects of the medicine and blood pressure problems is that it can cause growth restriction of the baby. In other words, it can affect how much blood the baby gets and cause it to be born underweight. In order to make sure that this did not happen, I was scheduled for weekly ultrasounds and monthly visits with a high risk specialist. Each week I went in, my baby looked great! As a matter of fact, it was growing a week or two ahead of schedule. In other words, perfectly healthy. I was so thankful! And although I was told I had a 50/50 chance of developing preeclampsia, each week that passed my blood pressure looked better and better. Other than needing medication, there was no other intervention needed. My doctor was very happy with my progress, and said that this was the best case scenario for someone with high blood pressure. He said that he would induce me at 39 weeks to avoid the possible complications that can occur in the last few weeks of pregnancy for someone with high blood pressure, but other than that no other intervention was necessary. And so other than having to give up my plans of birthing at the birth center, I was again looking forward to the drug-free birth that I had wanted so badly this time. I started researching ways to manage pain in the hospital, and how to work with the hospital facility and staff to create a supportive environment for my experience. Many are the plans in a mother's heart...
One of the "upsides" to being high risk meant that I had the opportunity to see my little one every week on an ultrasound. I got to see him or her kicking, and making faces, and playing with it's little fingers every week! My ultrasounds started at 30 weeks, and each week my baby's head was way high up in my ribs and it's precious feet were kicking me for all it's worth down in my bladder. As the weeks crept by, I kept waiting for the baby to flip head down. About 85% are head down by about 32 weeks, and by 36 weeks 97% of babies are head down. Less than 3% are still in the head-up, or breech, position by full term (37 weeks). And so the ultrasound technician assured me at 33 weeks I had nothing to worry about, that the baby would turn. And then she said it again at 34 weeks..... and 35 weeks... And every week the baby was still head up. I started researching methods to make my baby turn. There are a lot of "exercises" out there guaranteed to help your baby flip. Head stands off your couch, laying upside down on an ironing board at 45 degrees, crawling around on all fours multiple times a day. I tried them all. At my 36 week appointment, I waited for the news I already knew was coming. My baby was still breech, of that I was sure. I can feel the head sticking in my ribs like the horn of a saddle if I lean over too much. The doctor told me that I had two options. Either I could let him try to manually turn my baby from the outside. Or I could schedule a c-section for 39 weeks in the hope that the baby would turn on its own before then. I had already done my research, and knew that manually turning the baby was my last hope at achieving the birth I so wanted for me and my baby.
I agreed to the procedure. It's called an external cephalic version (ECV). So on this past Friday, I was admitted to the hospital at 11:45am for my ECV. I was terrified. I knew a few people who had had the procedure done, and it sounded like one of the scariest things I had ever heard of. The doctor actually pushes on your belly as hard as he can from the outside, pushing and pulling the baby into the correct position. The baby is monitored the entire time to make sure that the pushing and pulling does not cause any distress. And it is done in a room on the c-section floor in case an emergency occurs. Thankfully, my doctor suggested that I have an epidural for the procedure as it helps to relax the muscles and make the turning easier. And although I was terrified of the back pain that resulted from my last epidural, I knew that I would not be able to withstand the procedure without it.
The anesthesia team came in and administered my epidural around 2pm. Within a few minutes of inserting it, I knew something was wrong. My ears had a strange pressure in them, I was unable to hear, and I felt like I would pass out. The team checked my epidural, and found that it had migrated into my blood vessel. My entire left side was numb, and my right side still had full feeling. I had to be lifted up, the epidural completely removed, and a new one inserted. The doctors and nurses were whispering frantically to each other behind me, no one telling me what was happening. They just kept saying "I can't believe it migrated to her blood vessel, this is so rare, this is so rare." I remember asking them "Am I going to be ok??" Thankfully they were able to fix the problem, and it took a few more minutes, but I was stabilized and they were able to numb my right side. At this point I just kept praying "Lord, after all of this PLEASE let this work. PLEASE turn my baby."
My OB came in, and with help from another doctor the procedure began. For about 15 minutes I laid there, eyes closed, holding the hand of a nurse but in my mind it was the hand of Jesus. I can't really describe the procedure adequately. They literally lifted the baby up in my stomach and began to turn it around, in a forward roll kind of motion. I just kept my eyes closed, breathing deeply, and praying. It hurt at first, but as I prayed, the pain went away and I was able to focus on staying relaxed. They got the baby turned about 3/4 of the way, but it stopped there. They tried for about 15 minutes, and each time they turned it a little, it would turn back. As the minutes passed by, I began to realize that it wasn't going to work. That my baby wasn't going to turn. The doctor let go of my stomach and looked at me. I could tell how sorry he was. He said one of the baby's feet was positioned so low that it would not budge, and was the reason the baby can't turn around. It has one leg fully extended, anchoring it in the breech position. I thanked the doctor for trying.
Then the room began to empty out, and after a few minutes it was just me and Ben in there, alone. And I was left with the reality that I will have to schedule a c-section in 2 weeks. And there went the rest of my plans. And so here we are, two days later. I am still working through my feelings. Some people have said to me "Remember, the only thing that matters is a healthy baby." I get frustrated by this. I am this baby's mother... OF COURSE the most important thing to me is the health of my baby. But this baby is coming out of my body, and so my experience is inextricably linked to the way in which my baby is birthed. I have a vested interest in how this goes, and I deserve some time to grieve the loss of the experience that I hoped for. A c-section is not the end of the world, but it is also not a cut and dry experience. It is major abdominal surgery, and it is often a much more difficult recovery. And it means giving up certain things, like immediate skin to skin contact, and the ability to get up and move around after delivery. I don't need advice on the c-section, I just need some space to process my disappointment and the freedom to move forward at my own pace.
I am adjusting to the idea of it all. I am working on accepting it. I am learning that, despite how "ruined" my plans get I can trust that the Lord is good. He was with me during my diabetes test, calming my fears. He was with me that day my blood pressured soared. I felt his presence as I waited in fear of what would happen to my baby, and rejoiced that He protected us both. And He was with me on Friday, holding my hand and telling me I could withstand the ECV procedure. And He is with me right now as I write this, working out my feelings and comforting me in the loss of my dreams.
I can't wait to meet my baby. The one who has caused me all this trouble, but whom I love with my whole heart already! The one who daily reminds me, "Many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."
But today I am 37 weeks pregnant, with just 2 more weeks to go, so I thought I would get one pregnancy blog in before we bring home our new son or daughter. Be prepared, it's a long one, 9 months in the making!
It's amazing to me how much our children teach us, even before they are born. I have been learning so many lessons from this little one already. But I think the hardest, and most important one is that "many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails" (Proverbs 19:21).
I have never shared Abby's birth story, but her story has a lot to do with how I wanted the birth of this little one to happen. I had a difficult pregnancy with Abby, including gestational diabetes and preeclampsia. I remember walking into the doctor's office when I was 37 weeks pregnant with Abby, and my blood pressure was so dangerously high that I had to be induced immediately. I was blessed with a wonderful team of doctors who took excellent care of me, but there were many frightening moments during labor, including a time when Abby's heart rate was so low I was almost wheeled into an emergency c-section. At the last second Abby's heart rate came back into the normal range, and I was able to avoid surgery. But my epidural caused me severe back pain for weeks following her birth, and I struggled with my blood pressure for 3 months. I am so blessed that she was born healthy, beautiful, and ready to take on the world. But I was scared about what the next pregnancy would bring.
This little one made his or her presence known to me right away. I remember the moment I knew I was pregnant. Ben and I had been working on a number of home projects, and one afternoon in August I was taping up our large bay window so that I could paint the trim. I was standing on the window seat working in the hot afternoon sun, and all of the sudden nausea hit me like a strong wave. And that's when I knew... I was only 3 weeks along! The doctor couldn't believe I had morning sickness so early on. But this baby has always had plans of its own.
I had much worse morning sickness those first 12 weeks than I ever did with Abby. Food was my enemy, and there was a period of about 3 weeks where all I could stand to eat were Ramen Noodles. But once those first 12 weeks passed, I started to get my energy back and feel much better. I knew my next hurdle would be taking the test for gestational diabetes. I had a big scare when I took the test while pregnant with Abby. It caused my sugar to go so high I had to be admitted to the hospital for a day until I was stabilized. Needless to say, I was very nervous to take the glucose test again.
It was around the week that I had to take my glucose test that I started praying and asking the Lord to help redeem the experience I had with my first pregnancy. I desperately wanted things to be different this time. I remember the day I received the call from the nurse telling me I had passed the glucose test. I didn't have diabetes this time!! I literally shouted for joy on the phone. I felt like a weight had been lifted from me, and I was convinced that this meant the rest of the pregnancy would be "easy". I knew that with no diabetes I was considered "low risk" for the first time! And so I began to think a lot about what I wanted in terms of my labor and delivery. Many are the plans in a mother's heart....
Part of what made my experience with Abby so difficult was the intense pain that my epidural caused for weeks after her birth. It made bonding with her and caring for her so much more difficult, and made my recovery much slower. Because of this and a few other reasons, I made the decision that I wanted to have a drug-free birth this time around. I knew it would be difficult and painful, but I hoped that it would also make my recovery faster and easier. Once I knew this is what I wanted, I began to look into the possibility of switching practices, as part of me just wanted to get as far away from the difficult memories of labor with Abby in the hospital and do something entirely different. I found a wonderful birth center, with very experienced midwives. I called and talked to them about my history and hopes for this birth, and they were extremely supportive and shared my vision entirely. They had a facility that felt like home. It was such a calm and soothing place! But they told me that they could only accept me into their practice if my blood pressure stayed low, and everything else remained 100% low risk.
I had my first "official" appointment with them at 30 weeks. I walked into their office excited about my new birth plan, and so excited to have the hope of a completely different experience this time. I sat down and in the exam room, and started my appointment. And that's when all of my plans started to unravel. When the midwife took my blood pressure that day it was 155/110. Dangerous to me and the baby. I laid there being monitored for 2 hours while the midwives discussed what would need to happen next. They told me that unfortunately, with my history, and my current blood pressure, that I could not be their patient and could not deliver my baby with them. They called my original doctor, who asked that I be sent to his office immediately. When I arrived at his office, with Abby in tow, he made it very clear that he was angry I had switched practices, and that he felt that it was a very poor choice on my part. I was crushed. Not only did I have to give up my plans for birth at the birth center, I now had an OB who was frustrated with me and felt that I had made a choice that could have compromised my health. After another few hours of monitoring, my blood pressure came down enough that I was allowed to go home. I had to start blood pressure medication immediately. And I was now high risk. Again.
It took many weeks to feel "normal" again after that. Blood pressure medication works by slowing everything down in your body. If I thought I was tired before I started that medication, fatigue had a whole new meaning after I began the medication. It was frustrating, as it made it very hard to care for Abby, and I had to rely on the help of family and friends to get through those first few weeks adjusting to the medicine.
But by about 33 weeks, I started to feel much better, and my body began to get used to the effects of the medicine. One of the side effects of the medicine and blood pressure problems is that it can cause growth restriction of the baby. In other words, it can affect how much blood the baby gets and cause it to be born underweight. In order to make sure that this did not happen, I was scheduled for weekly ultrasounds and monthly visits with a high risk specialist. Each week I went in, my baby looked great! As a matter of fact, it was growing a week or two ahead of schedule. In other words, perfectly healthy. I was so thankful! And although I was told I had a 50/50 chance of developing preeclampsia, each week that passed my blood pressure looked better and better. Other than needing medication, there was no other intervention needed. My doctor was very happy with my progress, and said that this was the best case scenario for someone with high blood pressure. He said that he would induce me at 39 weeks to avoid the possible complications that can occur in the last few weeks of pregnancy for someone with high blood pressure, but other than that no other intervention was necessary. And so other than having to give up my plans of birthing at the birth center, I was again looking forward to the drug-free birth that I had wanted so badly this time. I started researching ways to manage pain in the hospital, and how to work with the hospital facility and staff to create a supportive environment for my experience. Many are the plans in a mother's heart...
One of the "upsides" to being high risk meant that I had the opportunity to see my little one every week on an ultrasound. I got to see him or her kicking, and making faces, and playing with it's little fingers every week! My ultrasounds started at 30 weeks, and each week my baby's head was way high up in my ribs and it's precious feet were kicking me for all it's worth down in my bladder. As the weeks crept by, I kept waiting for the baby to flip head down. About 85% are head down by about 32 weeks, and by 36 weeks 97% of babies are head down. Less than 3% are still in the head-up, or breech, position by full term (37 weeks). And so the ultrasound technician assured me at 33 weeks I had nothing to worry about, that the baby would turn. And then she said it again at 34 weeks..... and 35 weeks... And every week the baby was still head up. I started researching methods to make my baby turn. There are a lot of "exercises" out there guaranteed to help your baby flip. Head stands off your couch, laying upside down on an ironing board at 45 degrees, crawling around on all fours multiple times a day. I tried them all. At my 36 week appointment, I waited for the news I already knew was coming. My baby was still breech, of that I was sure. I can feel the head sticking in my ribs like the horn of a saddle if I lean over too much. The doctor told me that I had two options. Either I could let him try to manually turn my baby from the outside. Or I could schedule a c-section for 39 weeks in the hope that the baby would turn on its own before then. I had already done my research, and knew that manually turning the baby was my last hope at achieving the birth I so wanted for me and my baby.
I agreed to the procedure. It's called an external cephalic version (ECV). So on this past Friday, I was admitted to the hospital at 11:45am for my ECV. I was terrified. I knew a few people who had had the procedure done, and it sounded like one of the scariest things I had ever heard of. The doctor actually pushes on your belly as hard as he can from the outside, pushing and pulling the baby into the correct position. The baby is monitored the entire time to make sure that the pushing and pulling does not cause any distress. And it is done in a room on the c-section floor in case an emergency occurs. Thankfully, my doctor suggested that I have an epidural for the procedure as it helps to relax the muscles and make the turning easier. And although I was terrified of the back pain that resulted from my last epidural, I knew that I would not be able to withstand the procedure without it.
The anesthesia team came in and administered my epidural around 2pm. Within a few minutes of inserting it, I knew something was wrong. My ears had a strange pressure in them, I was unable to hear, and I felt like I would pass out. The team checked my epidural, and found that it had migrated into my blood vessel. My entire left side was numb, and my right side still had full feeling. I had to be lifted up, the epidural completely removed, and a new one inserted. The doctors and nurses were whispering frantically to each other behind me, no one telling me what was happening. They just kept saying "I can't believe it migrated to her blood vessel, this is so rare, this is so rare." I remember asking them "Am I going to be ok??" Thankfully they were able to fix the problem, and it took a few more minutes, but I was stabilized and they were able to numb my right side. At this point I just kept praying "Lord, after all of this PLEASE let this work. PLEASE turn my baby."
My OB came in, and with help from another doctor the procedure began. For about 15 minutes I laid there, eyes closed, holding the hand of a nurse but in my mind it was the hand of Jesus. I can't really describe the procedure adequately. They literally lifted the baby up in my stomach and began to turn it around, in a forward roll kind of motion. I just kept my eyes closed, breathing deeply, and praying. It hurt at first, but as I prayed, the pain went away and I was able to focus on staying relaxed. They got the baby turned about 3/4 of the way, but it stopped there. They tried for about 15 minutes, and each time they turned it a little, it would turn back. As the minutes passed by, I began to realize that it wasn't going to work. That my baby wasn't going to turn. The doctor let go of my stomach and looked at me. I could tell how sorry he was. He said one of the baby's feet was positioned so low that it would not budge, and was the reason the baby can't turn around. It has one leg fully extended, anchoring it in the breech position. I thanked the doctor for trying.
Then the room began to empty out, and after a few minutes it was just me and Ben in there, alone. And I was left with the reality that I will have to schedule a c-section in 2 weeks. And there went the rest of my plans. And so here we are, two days later. I am still working through my feelings. Some people have said to me "Remember, the only thing that matters is a healthy baby." I get frustrated by this. I am this baby's mother... OF COURSE the most important thing to me is the health of my baby. But this baby is coming out of my body, and so my experience is inextricably linked to the way in which my baby is birthed. I have a vested interest in how this goes, and I deserve some time to grieve the loss of the experience that I hoped for. A c-section is not the end of the world, but it is also not a cut and dry experience. It is major abdominal surgery, and it is often a much more difficult recovery. And it means giving up certain things, like immediate skin to skin contact, and the ability to get up and move around after delivery. I don't need advice on the c-section, I just need some space to process my disappointment and the freedom to move forward at my own pace.
I am adjusting to the idea of it all. I am working on accepting it. I am learning that, despite how "ruined" my plans get I can trust that the Lord is good. He was with me during my diabetes test, calming my fears. He was with me that day my blood pressured soared. I felt his presence as I waited in fear of what would happen to my baby, and rejoiced that He protected us both. And He was with me on Friday, holding my hand and telling me I could withstand the ECV procedure. And He is with me right now as I write this, working out my feelings and comforting me in the loss of my dreams.
I can't wait to meet my baby. The one who has caused me all this trouble, but whom I love with my whole heart already! The one who daily reminds me, "Many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Scamming the scammers
So let me start off by saying that I hate telemarketer calls. I think I might hate them even more now that I stay at home full time. Just imagine yourself in my shoes. I'm at home all day, with my one year old daughter as my conversational companion. There are only so many times that I can talk about daddy being at work and about Lady, our dog, before we've run the gamut of my daughter's vocabulary.
But then, once in a while, there's that moment, when the phone rings, and I think to myself "Yes! I have not been forgotten! It must be a dear friend calling to have a chat that includes words other than "daddy" and "dog!" And as I excitedly pick up the phone I'm thinking about all of the things I want to tell whoever it is that might be calling, only to be greeted with an unfamiliar voice saying "Mrs. Cowan?" And, just like that, all in an instant, my hopes are dashed and I find myself trying to hang up as quickly as possible while the person on the line continues to ask me about my satisfaction with my current cable provider. And so, after a dozen or so of these disappointments, I made sure I was on every "Do Not Call" list that has ever been created.
For the most part, the calls have stopped. But about 3 months ago, I began receiving calls from one particular company. And this company, despite my many requests to be removed from their list, continues to call me. The calls always begin the same way. The phone rings. I say "hello", and then there is a pause. I say "hello" again, and then someone with a thick accent, perhaps Indian or Middle Eastern, answers me. They always start off by saying "Hello ma'am, I am calling about your Microsoft Windows computer." At first, I stopped them right away, asking them to please remove me from their calling list and then hanging up the phone. But the calls continued, sometimes as much as twice a week!
So one day, I decided to change tactics. The phone rang, I answered, heard the familiar pause in the line, and knew what would happen next. The man says "Ma'am, I am calling about your Microsoft Windows Computer." And, in that moment I had a flash of creativity. I said, "You mean my Macintosh Apple computer?" There was a slight pause, and then the man answered with a drawn out "Yessss! Exactly, your Macintosh Apple computer!" Now you must understand, I don't own a Mac, and so if I'd had any doubt before this that this company was a scam, I didn't have any doubts now. And you know what? I thought to myself, if this man thinks he is going to scam me, he's out of his mind. And now it's only fair for me to scam him right back. But since I hadn't had any time to prepare what I was going to do, I just said the first thing that came into my head. So as he is talking about finding viruses on my non-existent Apple computer, I interrupt him and say "What?!!! Sir? Did you say you want some barbecued chicken?!" He answered "No, ma'am, I am calling about your COMPUTER!" And I said "What?!!! You want CHICKEN?!!! I have some barbecued chicken right here!! Eat some chicken!!" The man, clearly getting flustered at this point says "No ma'am, I do not like those things! I am calling about your computer!" I said, "You are calling me for barbecued chicken!" And, apparently beginning to wonder who exactly it is he is talking to says "Ma'am, how old are you?" And I retorted, "How rude! How old are YOU?!" He doesn't answer, and then tries to talk to me about my computer again, at which point I tell him all I have is barbecued chicken, hot and ready to eat. I then a hear a swift "click" on the line as he hangs up on me. I laugh as I look at the phone and it says it's been 2 minutes and 36 seconds. I win. And I think to myself, I can do better than 2 minutes and 36 seconds. And that's how it began, my war with the computer scammers.
They've called me 3 times since then. And after each time I brainstorm for ideas on the next best way to get them to hang up on me. That's the idea see, to see how fast I can get them to hang up. I'm having a lot of fun with it. One time I played along with the guy for a while, before telling him the only reason I had stayed on the phone was because I was working with the FBI, and we had traced the call to his exact location and he would be arrested in a matter of seconds. That conversation lasted about 2 minutes. This last time, I told the guy I was practicing for my upcoming American Idol audition, and could I practice my song for him. I launched into the worst rendition of Mariah Carey's "Hero" that you will ever hear in your lifetime, followed by a few bars of "Hakuna Matata" from the Lion King, and 1 minute and 30 seconds later the line went dead. I've actually kind of started looking forward to these calls. It's my way of scamming the scammers, and having fun doing it. And this way, I don't get so mad about the calls when they come. It's just another opportunity to mess with these fools.
So do you have any ideas for my next call?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Happy Anniversary!
Happy 3rd Anniversary to my husband Ben! It's hard to believe that we've already been married three years. When I look back at our wedding photos, it seems like it could have been just a few months ago. But in 3 years of marriage we've managed to move to a new state, buy our first home, and have a baby girl. That's a lot to pack into three years! So, in honor of our anniversary, I thought I'd share a few of the lessons I've learned over the last 3 years:
1. Marriage is not a honeymoon all the time... in fact, the honeymoon is over...well...when the honeymoon is over!! We've still got to get up everyday and go to work, make dinner, clean the house, and pay the bills. There's really nothing especially glamourous in it, but it makes me cherish our vacations and time away that much more. I've learned I can't live on a constant "high" of love like the movies try to portray. It's simple love in the every day living that matters.
2. Ben and I have very different ideas about what it means to clean the house. Ben likes things to be "clean" while I like things "in their place". Meaning, if the floors are vaccumed and the dirt is wiped off, it's clean to Ben and he's good to go... books can be laying around, shoes can be in all the corners of the floor, and if there is no hair/dirt, it's fine with him. Not so much for me. Most of the time, I don't really notice the dust or dog hair. What I notice are all of the THINGS laying around EVERYWHERE. If the floors are vaccuumed and our 1 year old's toys are still strewn about the house and all the dishes are out on the counters, I am going to have a freak out... Once we realized this major difference between the definition of a "clean house", we had way less arguments.
3. Ben does not complete me. Nor do I complete him. I do think we complement each other, but Ben and I are both flawed, imperfect people, and so there is no way in the world that a flawed, imperfect person can perfectly fulfill the dreams, desires, and expectations of someone else. I need Jesus to complete me... he's the only one that can fill that need in my life. I love Ben more than anything on this Earth, but if I count on him to make me whole, I am going to be disappointed.
4. Parenting with Ben has turned out to be the most challenging, exhilarating, wonderful experience of my life so far. It has drawn us closer together as a team, and also caused some of our loudest arguments. Lack of sleep and flying by the seat of your pants will do that to a couple. But I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Watching Ben as a dad is indescribably rewarding.
5. We've got a long way to go! 3 years in the grand scheme of things is nothing... we've got lots of ups and downs ahead of us. This year in our marriage we are purposing to pray and serve others together more often, and to spend time dreaming together about our future. I pray that God would give us the grace we need for each other to keep going strong!
1. Marriage is not a honeymoon all the time... in fact, the honeymoon is over...well...when the honeymoon is over!! We've still got to get up everyday and go to work, make dinner, clean the house, and pay the bills. There's really nothing especially glamourous in it, but it makes me cherish our vacations and time away that much more. I've learned I can't live on a constant "high" of love like the movies try to portray. It's simple love in the every day living that matters.
2. Ben and I have very different ideas about what it means to clean the house. Ben likes things to be "clean" while I like things "in their place". Meaning, if the floors are vaccumed and the dirt is wiped off, it's clean to Ben and he's good to go... books can be laying around, shoes can be in all the corners of the floor, and if there is no hair/dirt, it's fine with him. Not so much for me. Most of the time, I don't really notice the dust or dog hair. What I notice are all of the THINGS laying around EVERYWHERE. If the floors are vaccuumed and our 1 year old's toys are still strewn about the house and all the dishes are out on the counters, I am going to have a freak out... Once we realized this major difference between the definition of a "clean house", we had way less arguments.
3. Ben does not complete me. Nor do I complete him. I do think we complement each other, but Ben and I are both flawed, imperfect people, and so there is no way in the world that a flawed, imperfect person can perfectly fulfill the dreams, desires, and expectations of someone else. I need Jesus to complete me... he's the only one that can fill that need in my life. I love Ben more than anything on this Earth, but if I count on him to make me whole, I am going to be disappointed.
4. Parenting with Ben has turned out to be the most challenging, exhilarating, wonderful experience of my life so far. It has drawn us closer together as a team, and also caused some of our loudest arguments. Lack of sleep and flying by the seat of your pants will do that to a couple. But I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Watching Ben as a dad is indescribably rewarding.
5. We've got a long way to go! 3 years in the grand scheme of things is nothing... we've got lots of ups and downs ahead of us. This year in our marriage we are purposing to pray and serve others together more often, and to spend time dreaming together about our future. I pray that God would give us the grace we need for each other to keep going strong!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
90 minutes to myself
Well, it looks like it has been well over two months since I last blogged. Abby has recently dropped her morning nap and pushed her bedtime back in the evenings, so it's becoming harder and harder to snatch a moment for myself. She usually naps for only an hour and a half right after lunch time, and every day I find myself torn about what to accomplish in those 90 minutes. Should I do that next load of laundry, or catch up on email, or spend time in God's Word. I have recently been reading a really great book loaned to me by a friend called Six Ways to Keep the Little in Your Girl by Dannah Gresh. It has been such a thought provoking read. It basically talks about the ways in which our consumerist and sex-driven culture is pushing our little girls to grow up far too quickly. The book talks a lot about the fact that if we as parents, and especially mothers of little girls, don't take on the responsibility of teaching our little girls about the values of modesty, integrity, and purity, that the rest of the world will gladly teach them their own lessons instead! One point Dannah made that jumped out at me was that my little girl is watching every move I make, and as she watch me, my actions will show her what is truly important to me. My actions will have a far greater impact on her than my words alone. Dannah talks about how image-driven our culture is, and she challenged me to think about how much time I spend on my outer appearance, whether it be my make-up, hair, or even just the appearance of my house, versus how much time I spend on my inner self, praying and reading the Bible. She said that one good habit to form is to make sure you spend as much time in devotions each day (your inner self) as you spend on getting ready in the morning (your outer self). And while, truth be told, as the mother of a 16 month old, I am lucky to get a 5 minute shower every day, much less spend time fretting over makeup, the point still hit home to me. Abby is only a little over a year old, but I see how she watches everything that I do. She is facinated by everything! And she wants to copy every move I make, whether it's putting laundry in the dryer, or brushing her teeth while I brush mine. And so as she grows, I know I will need to purpose in my heart to make time to show her that it is really my inner self, my character and my soul, and my relationship with Jesus that I need to spend the most time on. So I've been trying to use my 90 minutes more productively lately. The laundry and dishes will wait, I need to spend that time working on my inner self.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Gimme Some Sugar
I have to admit that I am really glad the holidays are over. Don't get me wrong, I loved all of the excitement and time that I got to spend with family. But inevitably the holidays also meant lots of pies, cookies, cakes, and every other decadent food I try to steer clear of the rest of the year. But this year there was an unexpected added stressor to my annual sweets and treats avoidance mission. This was the first year that Abby was really eating table food. And so, right along with me she was enjoying turkey, potatoes, and stuffing. And then, at the end of each meal, when the dessert was being passed around the table, everyone wanted to see her enjoy it too. But as I looked at those sugary desserts, I'd feel my stomach knot up just a little, and politely decline to let her dive into an entire piece of apple pie. Instead I'd offer to give her a small bite of mine. And at every meal, I'd get raised eyebrows and surprised looks. I guess there's just something about watching a baby dive face first into a piece of cake or pie that's seen as some sort of rite of passage. And while Abby's grandparents all respected my decision, I know they were a little disappointed.
I know I may have come off as the holiday dessert grinch, only letting Abby have one small bite of pie per meal. But here's the thing, every three months I take Abby into the doctor for her checkup, and she gets weighed and measured. And every three months I feel like I'm being weighed and measured as to whether or not I am feeding her the right amounts of the right things and keeping her healthy. And I take that job seriously. Whether it means staying awake night and day to breastfeed her as a newborn, to now planning out her meals to include lots of fruit and vegetables and very little salt and sugar. And although Abby has a healthy appetite, she still eats like a little bird as most 13 month old babies do, and I hate to have her fill up on empty calories, knowing that means she won't eat as much of the good stuff as she should.
On the other hand, it's a lot of fun watching Abby experience new foods, and we had a lot of fun this holiday season seeing her dive into sweet potato casserole and squish up her face as she got her first taste of cranberry sauce. I know that our families wanted to see her enjoying the delicious desserts too, and I did feel bad not letting them have that experience. I hated seeing disappointment as they asked me "really? she can't have some?" But in the end I guess it's about balance. My first job is to take care of Abby... and that means following my instincts and sometimes disappointing others. This year it meant saying no to dessert. But it's also important for me to figure out when to let loose a little, and give our families, meaning Abby's grandparents, the experiences they've been looking forward to, which includes watching Abby dive into a piece of pie. Striking the right balance is not easy for me.
I hope it gets easier with time and experience. Next year, when she's talking, and can ask for dessert, I think I'll be more willing to let her have some. Maybe two bites next year instead of one ;)
I know I may have come off as the holiday dessert grinch, only letting Abby have one small bite of pie per meal. But here's the thing, every three months I take Abby into the doctor for her checkup, and she gets weighed and measured. And every three months I feel like I'm being weighed and measured as to whether or not I am feeding her the right amounts of the right things and keeping her healthy. And I take that job seriously. Whether it means staying awake night and day to breastfeed her as a newborn, to now planning out her meals to include lots of fruit and vegetables and very little salt and sugar. And although Abby has a healthy appetite, she still eats like a little bird as most 13 month old babies do, and I hate to have her fill up on empty calories, knowing that means she won't eat as much of the good stuff as she should.
On the other hand, it's a lot of fun watching Abby experience new foods, and we had a lot of fun this holiday season seeing her dive into sweet potato casserole and squish up her face as she got her first taste of cranberry sauce. I know that our families wanted to see her enjoying the delicious desserts too, and I did feel bad not letting them have that experience. I hated seeing disappointment as they asked me "really? she can't have some?" But in the end I guess it's about balance. My first job is to take care of Abby... and that means following my instincts and sometimes disappointing others. This year it meant saying no to dessert. But it's also important for me to figure out when to let loose a little, and give our families, meaning Abby's grandparents, the experiences they've been looking forward to, which includes watching Abby dive into a piece of pie. Striking the right balance is not easy for me.
I hope it gets easier with time and experience. Next year, when she's talking, and can ask for dessert, I think I'll be more willing to let her have some. Maybe two bites next year instead of one ;)
Friday, January 13, 2012
From Baby to Toddler
Just a few weeks ago my baby turned one. My BABY turned one. It's amazing how fast she changed in just one year. It's hard to put into words the jumble of emotions that I feel when I think about it. As I watch her grow and see her personality begin to show, I get so excited about all the wonderful things that are ahead of us... Girl Scout meetings, t-ball games, sleepovers, vacations!! I know, I know, she's not even walking yet, but as she starts to grow into a little girl, I can't help but imagine all the fun we're going to have. And really, we're having so much fun right now. Our days are filled with giggles and Elmo and dancing and new discoveries. I think we're having more fun now than we ever did when she was just a few months old. She sleeps through the night, can feed herself, takes regular naps, can show us what she wants/needs. It's so much easier than just a few months ago! But then, even in the midst of my relief that she's not a newborn anymore, there's this little bit of sadness that sometimes creeps in, and I realize how fast time is going, and that my baby isn't going to be a baby for much longer. I wish I could somehow capture and keep those precious baby moments forever. Like this morning, when she woke up while it was still dark and wanted a bottle, and I held her and rocked her and she looked up at me with those big blue trusting eyes as she twirled my hair in her fingers. And I felt the myriad of emotions start swelling... joy in the moment, sad that it won't last forever, excited for what is to come... And as I hear her in the next room, banging away on the keys of her new toy piano and giggling all the while, I realize that I've got to purpose in my heart to enjoy each stage as it comes, because they'll pass by all too quickly.
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