Coincidence? I Think Not.

Nineteen years ago today, my little girl was born. My first born. I was silly. I was a mess. I was deliciously tearful and emotional and milky and thankful and overwhelmed. I had waited four long years through surgeries, treatments, check-ups, scans, prescription drugs, pregnancy tests, counting days on the calendar, and checking my breasts for telltale signs of soreness until I became unfit to appear in public. When I FINALLY saw a “+” on the test strip, I was thunderstruck. What I couldn’t know is, I would lose that baby and my heart and my faith would sink like the Titanic, only faster.

I wrestled with God and poured out my anger, my disappointment, my last drop of energy. I wanted to quit and just give up. But six months later, hope began anew and it wasn’t long before Miss Bo entered the world.

It is a foregone conclusion that she was, hands down, the most beautiful baby who had ever come into existence at that time.

Two years later we would go through infertility again trying to have The Wild Man. My trips to the doctor for scans were now accompanied by my little satellite, Bo. On one trip she asked where we were going and I told her, “To the doctor for a scan.” She had heard a lot of talk about “eggs” and I never gave it a thought. She piped up and said, “Yep, we have to go and see if you have a chicken baby in your tummy.”

Don’t talk about eggs in front of two year olds unless you’re scrambling them. The eggs, that is.

Besides, it was no chicken baby, it was a swingin’, jumpin’, howlin’, bouncin’ MONKEY that ended up in there and I’ve been tryin’ to cage him ever since (while secretly hoping I never do – he’s too much fun just the way he is).

But when Bo was due to arrive, I had to have a scheduled C-section due to health issues (are we SHOCKED?). I got to pick the day and I had two possibilities. One was on our niece's tenth birthday so I called and asked her how she felt about it. Some kids wouldn’t want to share the day. Not Miss Nickle Pickle. She was all over that and so these two favorite girls and cousins are exactly ten years apart.

Not a coincidence. A plan born in love. God’s for us. Our’s for each other. A sweet young cousin’s with a generous heart. And is it just me or does she look almost exACTly like Faith Hill? You KNOW my penchant for matching up faces.

YOU be the judge.

Our Niece

Faith Hill

Happy Birthday to two wonderful and loving young women! Your mama/auntie loves you!

©Copyright 2010

(P.S. – Now REALLY, my next post will be “What Not to Wear.”

The Lila Minkler Project

I figured out a way to write when life is busy, painful, or I'm abjectly lazy: get your great grandmother to say something for you.

Though my great grandmother, Lila, was born in the late 1880's, she still has an opinion. Women in our family are just that way. She speaks from the grave. Nothing seems to silence us.

I am in possession of a book of hers and it is a prized treasure. It contains clippings, postings, letters, photos, and newsworthy events including the Lindberg baby kidnapping and the assassination of President McKinley. It is replete with inspiration, controversy, and marital heartbreak. It contains mysteries yet to be answered. And everything there is fading. Photos and newsprint are sometimes over 100 years old. And the book could burn, or be lost, or have my coffee spilled on it and then where would I be? Lila would be silenced. And I need Lila to talk to me; to work when I can't. What are great grandmother's for?

The pages will be scanned to show the originals and I will retype what each clipping says for clarity's sake. I may weigh in with an opinion - I never lack for those - but mostly it will be a preservation project to share what Lila thought was important.

Please come visit over there if you want to but feel no obligation to comment. I am unoffended and realize we cannot comment on everything, even most things. But if you are a history buff and are remotely interested in the thoughts, hearts, and struggles of our foremothers, you may find a friend in Lila. I realize many of us are blogged out and I'm really creating this for my own children. However, you are welcome anytime.

Here is the link: The Lila Minkler Project

Join me next time when I will appear on my own version of "What Not to Wear."

© Copyright 2010

My Easter Blessings

We've been away on vacation. Grizzly has fought headaches and blood pressure issues from the ozone but is coming around. The vacation did him - and all of us - a world of good. There hasn't been an area in our lives that hasn't been extremely stressed in the last few months. We had no phone and it was delicious. We had internet but I limited myself to checking in to Facebook a few times. I thought I would blog and visit blogs but the family gave me THAT look. So I refrained.

Now, we're headed home after a great, unplugged week in the Los Padres National Forest in a darling cabin generously opened to us by Grizzly's dear brother and his sweet wife. They even turned their stick-shift Jeep over to us and I felt like a big kid whizzing down dirt roads grabbing gears. (Our Jeep is a little tamer with an automatic and had to stay home in favor of the big SUV to haul everything.)

I am always surprised by generosity and big hearts. My SIL and BIL are the "What? Why didn't you ask US?!" types. And they mean it. They obviously want what they have to benefit others as well. I'm more used to suspicious types, wondering what people want and why. A blanket of trust and kindness warms you to your very heart with a lasting heat. I'm as much enriched by that spirit as I am by the time away. I'll be thinking about it for a long time and hope to be half as loving and giving.

And I thank all of you, on this blessed Easter Day - as I'm thanking God for Christ's sacrifice on our behalf - for your faithful visits, kind comments, and willingness to stick with this blog. I hope you are being enveloped in the bosom of those who love you most today and finding others to love who truly need it.

With Love,

Robynn

Copyright 2010

Rantin’ And Bawlin’

A friend posted a video today that I just had to share with you guys.

I hate to cry alone. But it’s such a GOOD cry. A happy cry. The cleansing kind. And I needed cleansing. Liver, spleen, and mouth. I was so mad at Grizzly’s employer today I was not only able to spit nails but I was able to manufacture them as well.

Grizzly got ozone poisoning yesterday afternoon from an irresponsible client who allowed him to enter a highly toxic room. No signs were posted and no warnings given. Well, unless you count the one on the other end of the warehouse that they frequently flood with ozone gas to prevent their “healthy” vegetables from going bad. THAT sign says “Danger – Poison” and the employees are not allowed to enter the warehouse full of vegetables while it’s flooded with ozone. But he had to work in the room with the generator that was MAKING the ozone.

And did the client feel bad about this? No. Denied any responsibility.

And did his employer feel bad about this? No. Said it couldn’t actually be determined that his poisoning and ridiculously high blood pressure (that he never has), dizziness, and cough (at the workmen’s comp doctor’s office) was related to a work event. So they drug tested him. That’ll be a boring result. Unless they find ozone gas. And I have no idea if it shows up in a urine test but I HOPE it does. His clothes reek of it. And in high enough concentrations, you can be dead from it in 15 minutes.

This is a guy who in over 20 years has never missed a day due to a workmen’s comp injury. Who SHOULD have missed many days, weeks even, but has always worked through. A guy who several months ago fell on the job and banged up both knees so badly they were twice the size, had water on one knee, and still has pain. Didn’t miss any days. Just a short time on light duty. So as a thank you, his boss stood him up in front of his co-workers and told them they would all have to work harder and faster for the next six months to pay for Grizzly costing the company a workmen’s comp claim.

Yeah. He's a real stand-up guy.

So when a friend posted this video it reminded me that, besides Grizzly, there ARE good guys out there. There ARE people who offer love and sacrifice, even when it costs them so much. This was the warming my heart needed. Sometimes in this rat race, it can sure feel like all the rats are winning.

Thanks for letting me rant. It’s been awhile.

Now, here’s something worth celebrating. Thank you to our soldiers who really ARE stand up guys and gals.

© Copyright 2010

Under Construction

Shingles. They’re not just for roofs anymore.

Okay. That was fun. Next? My recommendation is you try not to get shingles. Follow my advice.

And why is it roofs and not rooves? The plural of hoofs is hooves. I know I’m not the first person to ask this but it bears repeating since no one has answered it yet.

I lost over a week and gained five pounds just laying in bed. Well, apparently I ATE something as well.

Now I’m recovered and I’m crawling around on the floor finishing the stripping of wallpaper and regretting five more pounds to haul into an upright and locked position. I fantasize about what it would be like to be young, and lithe, and weigh less than a mid-sized car. I’ll never know but if you’re young and lithe and thin, go kiss yourself in the mirror for me. I’m washing wallpaper paste off and taping things that shouldn’t be painted, like tile, and window casing, and pets.

I’ll get back to you. Look for me on your blogs during all the future breaks I’m planning as I try not to overdo.

I love that word. Overdo. What a great canceller of excuse guilt.

© Copyright 2010 (Like people are standing around trying to steal this drivel.)

Observational Twitter 24

Famous Saying:

“It was the least I could do.” ~unknown

Obscure Saying:

“It was the least I could do…..and I always try to do the least I can do.” ~Robynn

©Copyright 2010

Idiot Day…….I Won.

Next Tuesday, March 9th, in our little town of about a million people (in Fresno County), our local Children’s Hospital of Central California will host an annual event called, “Kids’ Day.” People volunteer and stand on street corners to sell a special edition of The Fresno Bee, featuring info on the hospital and it’s young patients. It’s a great cause and raises much needed money. The kids and I signed up. Bo has had multiple eye surgeries there and The Wild Man has had surgery as well. They have also been hospitalized for flu when they were very young and given the royal treatment. They LOVE Childrens, as the locals call it.

However, what FEW people know is there is a special day exactly one week before this event for brain-dead homeschooling mothers. It is called “Idiots’ Day.”

Not just everyone qualifies. These are the conditions:

• The day before Idiots’ Day your college age daughter must have all her planets line-up with work difficulties, school deadlines, and social obligations colliding at warp speed. This must cause her a meltdown in the way that the polar ice-caps encountering Krakatoa might cause a trickle of water.
• Your long lost brother must give you his office address for mailing for fear you might stalk him at his residence.
• Your pain medication must quit working. Your pain must not.
• Your 14-year-old son must repeatedly make sounds, thump the desk, argue, and fall out of his chair while you teach him Algebra. This will not happen because he is simple. It will happen because he can.
• Your dog must learn to jump the fence for the first time – and does.
• Your mother must call and want to know all the information the attorney disseminated for her, in your presence, the Friday prior. You must disseminate it again.
• You must call your nephew at Cornell and wish him a happy birthday into his cell phone message center and worry that in the past three months, none of your phone calls, texts, or emails have been returned and decide whether or not to consider foul play or police contact.
• As you share your day with your husband, he must tell you about a friend whose homeschooling wife is leaving him AND the children. You know you should sympathize but instead you ask if there is room in her car. Your husband will reply, “No,” as he has already claimed the extra seat. He informs you that HE is leaving and you can homeschool his friend’s children as well as your own. You both know he’ll never beat you to the car but he will try.

At the end of this glorious day, you will inform your children that they must go to bed early because you will be waking them at 4 a.m. for Kids’ Day. They will be thrilled. Your daughter will stay up until midnight doing homework because that’s life. Your son will stay up reading…..because he can. You will go to bed and set two alarms because you’re exhausted.

At 4 a.m. you will awaken and find two groggy children. You will put your bra on backwards and head out the door. You will head to the pick-up destination where you will all find your instructions, your aprons, and your newspapers. As you pull up, you will notice the parking lot curiously empty. You will then realize, this isn’t Kids’ Day. You are a week EARLY for KIDS’ DAY. You will realize instead, this is Idiots’ Day. And you heartily congratulate yourself. You won.

You feed the less-than-happy children, send them back to bed, and go to bed yourself. But you will not sleep. Your husband’s alarm will begin to go off at 5:30 and he will hit the snooze eight times.

You spend your time in productive murder plots but decide to blog instead before leaving for choir, shopping, homeschooling, and making dinner for a friend. You will realize in a last, desperate, choking realization, you forgot to get the phone number of the departing wife.

The End

©Copyright 2010

Photo Courtesy of: The Collegiate CSUF