For Females ONLY!

Today’s blog is brought to you by StayFree mini pads.  Yes, it’s a private female topic.  But the reason it made the very public blog is because a son of mine, who shall remain nameless to protect his masculinity, sat at the kitchen table last night eating toast and reading the StayFree package.  I noticed this odd occurrence out of the corner of my eye, and wondered, hoped and prayed that I would get off scot-free without having to discuss the contents of the little pink package.  (It was on the table with all the newly purchased “upstairs” products waiting to be taken up the stairs…. toothpaste, foundation, TP.)  Why couldn’t he have read the Crest box???

As he munched on his PB&J toast, he thoroughly read the entire package.  He’s a quick reader, so he may have even re-read some of the eye-opening information on that little pink plastic wrapper.  Finally, my hopes were dashed, and he inevitably asked, “Mom, what are these for?”

It was one of those moments when time is suspended in mid-air as a myriad of questions went through my mind before I answered.  Questions like, Did his father explain THIS part of the birds and bees? and Does this call for a short non-specific answer, like ‘For girls’? and Does he really want to know what those are for…. or is he stalling his bedtime?  and also Will this information give him nightmares?

So, I went with the I’m-the-good-mother-who-gives-her-children-correct-answers answer.  (Mom, you may want to stop reading now.) In a brief 27 seconds I explained that when a girl reaches about the age of 12 her body prepares to have babies.  If it is not time for her to have a baby, she bleeds for one week every month.  It’s called a period.  Those are pads that girls put in their underwear so they don’t get their underwear bloody. 

I held my breath.  Would there be more questions about babies and bleeding and bodies and such?  Much to my relief, he gently put down the package and stood up from the table to clear his plate to the counter.  And it was over.  That was it.  I broke out in a sweat for nothing!  Why do I make such a big deal about these situations?  I don’t know!  Looking back, I did OK.  It went down without trauma (on his part)…. I think.

When my husband gets home from Houston on Friday night, I’m sending him in our son’s room to make sure HE gets asked any follow-up questions that I know have developed over the past 24 hours.

Thank you, StayFree, for helping me lose 3 pounds in perspiration last night.

Golden Rings

Onions go in 75% of the meals that I cook on a regular basis.  So at the back of my mind, when I’m in the produce section of a grocery store, I usually have a mental picture of exactly how many onions are currently in the bottom vegetable drawer of the fridge.  Lately that picture has become foggy… and I bought more than were necessary at any given time.  There were two full red-net bags glaring at me through the plastic drawer every time I opened the fridge. 

THEN, last Saturday I decided to buy produce in bulk from Bountiful Baskets, a local co-op where you get fresh fruit and veggies at a local park at 8 a.m….. and you have to bring your empty laundry basket in order to transport them all home.  (Of course I forgot mine!)  It’s $15 and well worth the “ugly wives club” trip early Saturday morning.  Last week there was an Italian focus…. hence…. MORE onions. 

So this morning I announced that I was going to make onion rings for the first time in my life.  The kids are used to off-kilter announcements, so no one really got excited or alarmed.  My daughter did ask, “Why?”   “There are probably 20 onions in the fridge and we need to use them up.”  She proceeded to tell me that she had recently learned about exaggerating and saying-what-you-really-mean in her writing class, and SURELY there weren’t 20 onions in the fridge.  I thought there might actually be 20, so I counted.  She was right.  I exaggerated.  There were only 17.

On with onion ring production.  I sliced.  I cried.  I sliced some more.  I cried some more.  Austin assisted me in making the batter and Larisa stood by while I scooped lard into the electric frying pan.  She was beyond grossed out.  I questioned, “Didn’t you know what FRIED food means?”  But, alas, the lard before her eyes brought fast food to a new and grosser level than ever before. (Good!)

The golden rings of grease were actually quite tasty, but not as good as the ones at Sonic, according to my youngest son.  (Then stop eating them with two hands full!)  I have not deep-fried anything for years…. maybe 10 years.  It is pretty disgusting.  Moving on, my son commented, “They are good, Mom, but they taste like they aren’t good for you.”  Both Rick and I said simultaneously, “You mean the grease on your lips?”  hahahahaha!

I informed that family that I had used fresh onions (a VEGETABLE!) and whole wheat flour and skim milk for the batter…. so they ARE good for you.  They ALL rolled eyes at me… their very own mother!

We’re having French Onion soup for lunch and then grilled onions for dinner.  It makes me feel so healthy and my sinuses are clear!

A Copy and Paste Blog from Kelly

Kelly is my blog sister who lives in Tennessee and is also adopting from Colombia with Gladney Center for Adoption.  We both decorated our little Colombian princesses’ rooms in mariposas de la lavanda (lavender butterflies)!  Her blog this past week could have been written from my heart as much as it was from hers.  So here is Kelly’s post that says exactly how I’m feeling too:

We’d Love a Referral in November–It Is National Adoption Month =)

I love talking about our adoption journey. I’m happy to share how God has called us to adopt. November is National Adoption Month, but even if it wasn’t I’d still be telling our story.I love how God has put this love in my heart for a little girl that I don’t even know anything about. I don’t know how old she is, what she looks like, where she is exactly (maybe she is @ Chiquitines, but maybe she’s not there yet). She may not even be born yet, but still I love her.

**(Zaza is born already, but we don’t know what region she is in.)

I love hearing the boys pray for their little sister. There isn’t much that is sweeter, if you ask this momma =) 

There are so many things that are hard to explain to people, when I’m trying to share our story. I have learned though, that some people just don’t get “it.” Countless times I have been asked why we are going to Colombia, and why we are not adopting here @ “home.” Really people just don’t get “it.” I am thankful that God has made it clear to us, that our daughter is in Colombia. Now, I just have to be patient & wait for the details of the rest of our journey. We know that we will not be traveling in 2009, because the courts in Colombia close Dec. 15th to Jan. 15th. There is still a possibility that we will get our referral this year & then we would travel when the courts opened in January. This is our prayer. Have I ever told ya’ll how hard waiting is? =)

**From http://whatweareherefor.blogspot.com/

 

Hep A + Hep B = Sore Arm

I hate shots.  Really hate them.  Needles just aren’t my deal.  At all.  The IV before giving birth was worse than giving birth in my books!

So today, I’m not feeling well, so I go to the doctor.  Low grade fever, pounding headache…. “seems there’s an infection so here’s your prescription… and let’s do the 2nd Hep A/B shot while you’re in the office.”  I wanted to cry and yell, “NO! I already don’t feel good!  Why poke my arm with the big, scary needle?”  But I just sat there and tried not to cry.  Low grade fevers, pounding headaches and the thought of getting a needle make me want to cry.  Really bad.  But I was brave and sucked it up.

Getting a needle is called “getting a needle” in Canada, but in America it’s called “getting a shot.”  Just some cultural trivia for you… for free.

Ten hours later, I can barely lift my left arm.  Is it supposed to hurt this much?  Am I just wimpy?  Say it isn’t so.  The first Hep A/B hurt, but I thought it was because I got tetanus the same day…. in the same arm.  I did cry that day.  But, I can barely lift my left arm.  I think I need some ice cream.  Pistachio Almond.  Yep, that will make me not think about my left arm that I can’t lift without experiencing pain.  Maybe the nurse hit a nerve or a bone or a muscle or something else that she wasn’t supposed to poke the needle into.

I did spend my evening with the girlfriends around the fire pit.  Good times.  I didn’t lift my left arm and I had a really nice time.  Now I’m home and whiney.  Time for beddy-bye.  Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.  Good night.

What are YOU doing Sunday Afternoon?

Did you know that this coming Sunday is Orphan Sunday?  Did you know that there are 143,000,000 orphans in the world? How big of a number is 143 million?  Here, have a look:

It astonished me. 

God’s heart is turned to the orphan and so are the hearts of many other men and women doing what they can to help a child… one child at a time.  It doesn’t seem like much… 1 out of 143,000,000, but it is everything to THAT child.

There is a live concert broadcast this Sunday, Nov. 8th, 2009 from 4:00 pm to 6:00 pm CST including Steven Curtis Chapman, Geoff Moore, Jim Daly, Dennis Rainey and an African Children’s choir.  You can find out about it here: www.cryoftheorphan.org.

Please join me in participating in Orphan Sunday and watch the broadcast.  Or better yet, there are events all across our nation that are posted on the site as well.  Then please do your part to help the orphans of the world.

God Bless, Linda

November 3rd has Come and Gone {sigh}

If you have followed our eternal adoption saga, you know that I’m a tad sad today.  November 3rd is the last day of the year 2009 that a referral call can be received from Bogota… and your child can be home by Christmas.  Our call did not come today.  This will be Christmas #3 without our baby girl looking wide-eyed at her first glistening Christmas tree, or having a family to gather with and sing carols in a strange language, or making Sugar cookies in the shapes of stars, candy canes and snowmen with sprinkles.  I don’t know if I can stand to put the baby ornaments on the tree this year.

When I think of the life Zaza is most likely living right now… down in Colombia… it makes my heart sad.  We pray for her every single day to be cared for, warm, fed and loved.  I know it will be the shock of her life to leave all that is familiar to her… food, weather, friends, home, caretakers, clothes, smells, Spanish, songs and games.  I’m glad that we stay in Colombia for a month to get used to each other in her surroundings.  But I honestly cannot wait to shower her in love and kisses.  To bring her to her own home and show Zaza her darling yellow room with the purple bed.  Her very own room!  With butterflies, dragonflies, flowers and the sun painted in bright colors and glitter dancing around the tops of her walls.  Her own curvy mirror to look in, comb her black hair that is just like her daddy’s and admire her beautiful clothes.  I can’t wait to hear squealing in our home again, high-pitched laughter and giggling.  We haven’t had princess tea parties in many years around here.  And dancing.  Yes, we will dance with Zaza.

We started a unit with the boys today on patience and plant growth.  As I read the definition “patience is waiting without complaining” I realized why God planned for us to start the unit today… Nov. 3rd.   I plan my homeschool year in early June, when I wasn’t aware of the Nov. 3rd cut off date.  And of course it would be patience out of all the character traits that it could be.  HE knew!  So we planted grass and flowers and herbs and vegetables today.  Of course I thought of doing all this with Zaza by my side making a mess next year.  I pray she loves gardening even half as much as I do.  We’ll have great fun together with the dirt, water, seeds and rocks.  I’ve been eyeing the little gardening gloves, rubber boots and color coordinated kid-sized garden tools at JoAnns.  I LOVE those!  A must have.

The courts in Bogota are closed from Dec. 15 to Jan. 15th, so there will be no action at all until after that. {sigh} The good news of Nov. 3rd being over is that the holidays are spent focussing on the family that is here, the few years we have left together, and making memories that will last. 

I read the book A Seed is a Promise today…. and it is, whether it is an actual plant seed, or the seed of a child born in your heart.  It is a promise.  A promise that will come true… if we have patience (and wait without complaining!)

Fall is Here – Part 4

Pumpkin carving is a Fall tradition that I’m happily not really an active part of anymore.  My participation will come again when Zaza arrives, but for now I’m happy to buy the pumpkins, hand out knives and point to the back yard.  Keeve is an eager beaver when it comes to creativity and pumpkins.  He couldn’t wait to stab the thing.  Last year I remember picking dried pumpkin off of the glass picnic table, so I assigned the grass as said carving area this year.

Yet another sign of Fall:  socks were actually worn in the morning, but discarded by noon because the weather isn’t cold enough yet to wear them outside for pumpkin carving.  And look!  Some of the grass is still green.  Time to overseed!

Keeve is heavily wrapped up in Myth Busters, hence the Busted pumpkin.  Whatever.  As long as I don’t have to pick dried pumpkin off patio furniture I’m good with it.  Are those little slimy pieces of pumpkin on that chair???  Please stay tuned for Harvest Festival photos. 

Long live All Saints Day!

Fall is Here – Part 3

These are the signs of Fall in Phoenix, Arizona:  The dog is lounging on the sun-mutilated swing… and her tongue is not hanging out of her mouth.  Trixie’s enjoying the sunshine with her eyes closed and happy doggy dreams floating through her head.  It’s obviously below 110 degrees.  Fall has arrived.

Sign number two:  I had to put on LONG pants…. with my new hot pink bling-bling leather flip flops.  Obviously another sign that Fall has descended upon us and wrapped its chilly tendrils around our legs.  Brrrr.  In the 70s today. 

We resorted to turning on the furnace two days ago.  It was only 45 degrees outside and 61 in the house.  I called my husband and asked him to bring home a pumpkin latte for me from Starbucks.  I told him I was freezing and needed a warm drink… and I LOVE that Fall brings pumpkin lattes to the drive-thru window menu.  Rick told me to leave the heater off and put on a sweatshirt.  Whatever.  I already had 2 shirts and a sweatshirt on… jeans, socks and slippers.  My nose was cold.  I needed a pumpkin latte because it’s FALL!  We compromised.  He brought the pumpkin delicacy to me and I didn’t turn the heater on until bedtime.  Fall has officially arrived.

Fall is Here – Part 2

Last night I broke out the Fall decorations for the table.  What sings FALL more than a horn of plenty???  I don’t know either.  And who thought of putting the plenty in a horn?  And why a horn?  What type of horn did they plentify?  Makes me wonder, that it does.  So, I don’t really collect Precious Moments, per se.  But I do have a nice little collection for the Fall table with Indians and Pilgrims sharing the bounty, even though they didn’t have a horn for their plenty.  The Mamas on the back of the napkin holder both have tears falling from their eyes…. so thankful.  Been there.  Done that.  I also have the candlesticks, but alas, there were no candles to be found last night at 11:43, so they’re still in the box. 

One day I would like to add to my Fall table arrangement one of my favorite Precious Moments pieces titled, Brotherly Love, which is pictured on the salt and pepper shakers.  It’s just so cute with the gigantic drumstick.

My husband is of Canadian First Nations Native Indian descent (politically correct enough???) and I’m as pilgrim-white as they come. I’ve had these same decorations appearing on my table for over 15 years now.  Once when the display was displayed my daughter looked at each little piece and noticed each little detail that her little eyes could behold.  (Like mother, like daughter.)  She got a sad look on her chubby little face and told me that she felt sorry for me.  “WHY?” I asked.  “Because you’re the only one in our family who is only half-Thanksgiving.”  Meaning: my husband and kids are all Indian and Pilgrim… I’m just a pilgrim.  So thoughtful.  Next time I’m filling out a questionnaire that inquires of my nationality I’m writing “half-Thanksgiving.” 

 

Fall is Here – Part 1

Sign of Fall: The apples have been harvested.  Somewhere.  Not at our house, but I did reap the benefits of someone harvesting apples somewhere.  They were on sale at Fry’s for 99 cents a 3 lb. bag.  How can you resist that?  I don’t know either.  I got four bags.  And since I’ve been consumed with reading Amish stories lately I had visions of apple butter, dried apple leather and apple pie and the such.  Jah!  Late last night, I dug through the crock pot cookbook and found plenty of Amish-like apple recipes.   I chose Spicy Chunky Apple Sauce… and it simmered all night long.  I looked forward to waking up just to smell the spicy goodness.  A big glop was added to my morning oatmeal (as well as a spoonful of flax seeds left over from Terry’s waffles) and it was scrumptious.  Made me feel domestic too.

I wish I had the little gizmo I’ve seen on tv that swiftly and effortlessly turns dough and apples into baked little half-moon pies.  Or am I thinking of he PB&J sandwich maker?  Anyway,  some dough is needed or crumble crust for the next step in this apple extravaganza going on here currently.

One Fall we took the kids up to Sedona and Slide Rock State Park.  Where the park is today used to be an apple orchard complete with a huge old barn were they processed the apples.  I remember the kids being surprised that they could just pick apples from the trees and eat them… bypassing the migrant workers, packers, truck drivers, food handlers, grocers and Mom.  It was comical. 

Anyway, enjoy the bounty of the gardens and orchards this Fall!