everydayMOM

My life in photos

2012-05-26T08:47:00.001-05:00

Last year, I made a resolution to take a photo every day of the year and post it on my blog. My amazing friend, Kelly, has been doing this for four years, and we love checking in with her family every day to see what is new.

It only took me a few weeks to find out that this endeavor is a LOT harder than it looks. I'm not sure which part was more difficult for me: remembering to take a photo every day or posting the photos. I started out strong, but then I would miss a day. Or I would get a month behind in posting the photos and have to catch up all at once.

I finally gave up. I felt bad that I failed in keeping what seemed like such a great New Year's resolution.

But then... At the end of the year, I wanted to make a photo book of 2011. I love taking old blog posts and photos from the year and compiling them into a book. It was so awesome to be able to be able to go back to my photo blog and easily find the words and photos that I wanted to include in the book.

So, a few months ago, I decided to restart the photo blog. It only took me a few hours to post photos from March and April. (I still need to do January and February.) While I'm not trying to take a photo a day, I am trying to post photos of significant events.

My family members are really the only people who ever look at the blog, and that is totally fine with me! It's so fun to sit down with the kids once in a while and go back and laugh as we look through our adventures from the past few months.

Well, yesterday, I was thinking that I would enjoy posting my photos so much more if the blog looked better. I've been learning a ton about WordPress the past few months because I have been redesigning our church's web site. (That will be unveiled very soon!)

I'm also working on moving this blog to WordPress. It has so much more functionality and flexibility.

But until then... if you are interested in taking a peek at our photos from 2012, you can use that link at the top right of your menu or click here! The layout is very simple right now, so I will probably be making some improvements, but I really love how the navigation works.

Posting my photos really motivates me to work on my photography skills. My goal for this year is to learn how to use my camera. I'm planning to start by finding some good photography blogs. I need to learn how to use the manual settings on my camera. I need to buy a better lens. And I also want to study how to take better photos without looking posed. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know!

If scar tissue had a football team

2012-05-24T15:21:00.001-05:00

... my husband's would be in the Super Bowl.

I guess that's the best way to sum up what we have learned the past four weeks about Capable Dad's amazing superpower. His body works harder than the average person at trying to heal itself. His body forms scar tissue at an incredibly fast pace.

Now, this sounds like a great problem, right? In many cases, it probably would be. But when it comes to CD's recovery from shoulder surgery, the goal is to break through the scar tissue as it forms so he can regain movement in his arm. Even a team of physical therapists, a very strong doctor, and a big stretching apparatus haven't been powerful enough to conquer his scar tissue.

Capable Dad went in for his 10-week follow-up visit on Tuesday. It seems that each of his follow-up visits is a little more discouraging than the one before. At this one, we learned that he is part of a very small percentage of people who build up scar tissue thicker and faster than most. As a result, he has one motion that — even after faithfully stretching and pulling his arm three times a day and even after going to 2.5 hour PT sessions four times a week — is not coming back.

The doctor gave him three more cortisone shots and a warning that if he can't regain his motion in four weeks, he will need a second surgery to go back in and cut out the scar tissue. We are closing in on the three-month mark since surgery day. Once he gets to the fourth month, the doctor says patients aren't able to regain any more movement. At that point, the scar tissue has won. It forms a bond that is as strong as bone.

I'm going to be completely honest and tell you that the thought of a second surgery caused me to temporarily sink into a mini depression. OK, I know what's true:

I know that God can intervene and help CD rip right through the blanket of scar tissue that is encapsulating the back of his shoulder.

I know that the doctor said this big, white, $2,000 contraption that CD straps on his body three times a day has had amazing results in other patients.

I know that the cortisone shots could help. I know the physical therapists can try new torture treatments.

I KNOW it's possible to avoid a second surgery. And we're praying like crazy that will happen.

But for about 12 hours, I felt like I was suffocating. It was the first time I felt hopeless about the situation. It was the first time I allowed myself to even consider he might not fully regain the motion he once had.

My mind started racing back through the sequence of events.

There was the initial surgery when the doctor said he was shocked to see how much scar tissue was already formed around my husband's shoulder, basically creating a "frozen shoulder." At the next visit, the doctor showed us the photos from inside my husband's arm. He explained how he "aggressively" scraped out scar tissue, filed away the bone and "released the capsule" that surrounds his shoulder.

At the last visit, the doctor wasn't happy about CD's limited range of motion when it comes to pushing his arm downward. While he is doing great with lifting his arm up and backward, he hasn't been able to push it all the way down. Imagine the motion you make when you throw a ball. It's the follow-through motion at the end that he can't complete.

Four weeks ago, the doctor increased his therapy sessions from three a week to four. He also prescribed the big white contraption in the photo that we lovingly refer to as a modern-day version of "the rack." He slowly turns the cranks on the device to stretch his tendons and then hold them in that position for 30 minutes at a time.

During therapy, two and sometimes three therapists work together to try to push his arm down. One holds his shoulder in place to keep it from dislocating while the other two basically lay on his arm to try to push it to the table. It won't move.

I think our whole family has accepted the "inconvenience" of Capable Dad's inability to use his right arm. It's been good for the kids to take on the duties of mowing the lawn, carrying out garbage and helping with lots of other chores. My husband would tell you that even his pain tolerance is so high now that what seemed unbearable a few months ago has now become an acceptable level of discomfort.

It's become more personal for me.

I long for him to be able to help our son work on his pitching skills.

I am suddenly desperate to go on one of our family bike rides.

I can't wait for him to be able to sweep up the toddler with both arms and spin her around in a big bear hug.

The doctor says a second surgery won't be a major set back if it comes to that. He will resume therapy the same day and restart the race to regain movement before the scar tissue forms. But for me, it seems like we would be starting over. And that is not something my mind is ready to accept.

So, that's the news. Thanks again for reading these updates. We truly appreciate everyone who has asked us how it's going. Thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers!

The rest of the story

2012-05-19T09:04:00.001-05:00

I can't even tell you how many times I have sat down at my computer to write a blog post to follow that last one. I didn't mean to leave you hanging for so long. And now my list of draft posts is getting way too long.

Often it is somewhat therapeutic to unpack my thoughts here on my blog. This time, it seems I'm carrying around some pretty heavy boxes that are jammed to the point I don't even know where to begin. I start writing and realize it will take me 10 posts to finish.

And that is just too much information. Let's face it. No one wants to read my epic history of home schooling successes and failures.

I've also realized that even though I like change, I don't like transitions. Starting something new is no problem. It's ending something that's hard.

So, here's the big reveal, plain and simple.

We're applying to send all three of the big kids to a private, Christian school in the area. We are still going through the process of having the kids tested and an interview, so we are "in process." We got to this point for lots of reasons. And we chose this school for lots of reasons. All of those reasons would have been revealed if I had posted the other 10 posts in my draft box. haha! :)

As most people know, during the last two years I have been working part-time, along with home schooling. This year, we decided that it was too much. I needed to give up one of those two things. So, from a financial perspective, the result would be the same whether I gave up my job to focus on home schooling or whether I quit home schooling and we sent the kids to private school. (Yes, we did consider sending some or all of the kids to public school, but again, it's just too much info.)

We had visited this school several years ago and ruled it out for a few reasons. When we went back this time, we had a very positive experience. The kids all spent a day in the classroom, and they loved it. Prior to that day, all three of them had begged me to continue to home school them. After that day, our entire family agreed that this would be a good next step for us. The kids are very excited!

Looking at the bigger picture with high school just THREE years away, we also felt this would be a good transition for the future. We know it won't be perfect. But the great thing is that we aren't looking for perfection. We've realized that we can learn a lot living with imperfect people, in imperfect situations with imperfect challenges. (Or maybe it would be perfect challenges?)

It's hard to avoid comparing yourself with other families and the decisions they make. When the kids in a family are so different and have such different needs, it's hard to even make a good decision for all the people in one family.

As parents, we all are responsible for the education of our children. For the last three years, I have taken a very hands-on approach to that responsibility by being the person who is actually educating my kids. My husband and I are still taking that responsibility very seriously, we are just doing it in a different way. We know that every option has its strengths and weaknesses. We will lose some of the strengths of home schooling, and we will gain some of the positives of being in a formal school environment. We know that, and we're at a point that we're good with it.

So there you have it! If you want to know more, feel free to ask! But I will warn you. My answer might be a long one. :)

Our last day

2012-05-11T21:46:00.001-05:00

Today was our last day of home schooling for the year. On Monday, the kids will go to their classes for final exams and class parties. But for me, this was the last day that I will sit down with them and go through math lessons and review history facts and help write research papers as part of our home school curriculum.

If all goes as planned, it will be the last day of home schooling for at least a year. It might be the last day of home schooling for several years. I hate to actually utter this out loud, but it could quite possibly be our last day of home schooling. Forever.

We spent the afternoon hanging out with friends at an end-of-year party and then spent the evening at a birthday party with lots of school friends. It was a great way to end the year.

Swinging on playground equipment.

Chatting with friends.

Playing baseball.

Running down a big hill.

It was the kind of day that made me want to home school forever. I would love home schooling so much if we could do this everyday. But the problem is all of that school that gets in the way.

I was a little nervous about the day and facing the inevitable question, "So, what are you doing next year?" But I was extremely thankful for the responses that I got. Sympathetic ears and understanding hearts. And I was pleasantly surprised that several people said they had been waiting for me to blog about it. So, here I am. Trying.

When we started home schooling three years ago, we did so for a few very specific reasons. Back then, home schooling was my biggest fear. Now, that I've done it, I'm not afraid of it anymore. I know I could do it again.

It also feels great to look at how different things are now and realize that all of our hard work has paid off. I don't regret one minute of the past three years.

And yet, unlike last year, when I was so unsettled and so unsure of what we should do, I feel totally at peace with our decision. It's just hard for me to blurt it out in a sentence. You know me. I like to analyze and process and give the complete explanation. Which I will. And I promise it will be coming soon.

Will you come back? Please? ;0

My Once Upon a Time predictions

2012-05-08T15:59:00.001-05:00

Once Upon a Time, there was a woman who loved the TV show "Lost". When the show ended, she was very sad and stopped watching TV.

But a few months ago, she was in desperate need of some mindless entertainment. She remembered that the writers of "Lost" were supposed to be working on a new series. That's when she found "Once Upon a Time."

Now, she is very happy again. She gets to contemplate the mysteries of the show. She gets to ponder the relationships between the characters in storybook land. And once again, she gets to make predictions on her blog about what will happen next!

**

So... here we go!

I am anxiously awaiting the season finale of the first season of OUaT, and for the record, here is what I think is going on.

First, the preview for next week shows that Henry's heart is going to stop. Sunday night's episode also showed that when Snow ate the apple, she no longer had breath. So, I'm thinking that even if he dies, he won't be completely dead. Of course, Regina is the only person who understands the curse of the apple, so she is either going to have to reveal her knowledge, or once again, lose the one thing in life that she truly loves.

I think Henry will stay in his comatose state for most of next season. I think Emma is going to have to start working things out without his help. While he is sleeping, I think the writers will take the opportunity to bring out more of the back story.

It seems fairly obvious that Emma will now become a believer in the story and the fact she is the savior. Next week's trailer showed her picking up the book and being overcome by some type of force. So, I'm thinking that once she believes she will be able to see and understand things she couldn't before.

I think she will spend next season trying to get the other storybook characters to believe, as well.

Regina said the curse is weakening. She could tell because the apples on her tree were starting to spoil. I think Regina also is gaining a conscience — another sign the curse is weakening — and she is losing her strength. She is having nightmares now about the other storybook characters.

What else does it mean that the curse is weakening? I think it means that the other characters will be able to come out of their slumber, remember their past and figure out how to defeat her.

We learned on Sunday that for some reason, Mr. Gold wants the curse to end. This is very interesting since we also learned last week that Mr. Gold was the true mastermind behind the curse. I think his change of heart has something to do with his interaction with August a few weeks ago in "The Return." Perhaps he has accepted the fact he will not find his long-lost son, Baelfire, in this world, and he wants to go back to his old life. (Or maybe he realized he's too much of a coward to find Baelfire.)

We learned a few key pieces of info the past few weeks. We now know that three people were transported to our world before the curse began: Emma, August (Pinnochio) and Baelfire. Could there have been others?

We know that it's possible to reach back into fairytale land. Regina used a portal to grab one of her poisonous apples. That land is still there! There is still a little bit of magic left. Will they find enough magic to bring Henry back to life? Or will Regina find a way to go back to fairytale land to find a way to help him?

We also found out that if Emma is killed, the curse will be broken. Regina can't let that happen. Or perhaps she will now want that to happen to save Henry?

One of the big questions still out there is: "Who is Henry's father?" I'm guessing it is Baelfire. This is mostly just a guess, but Emma did say that Henry's father was a "fire man." I think Baelfire is going to play a big role in all of this.

I'm hoping the writers will start giving us more details about Henry's birth and adoption by Regina. Mr. Gold organized the adoption, so he must have had his eye on Emma and made sure Regina ended up with Emma's son.

I'm wondering if the showdown between Emma and Regina will be an actual physical battle or if it will be more of a battle against the curse. I'm thinking that as Emma gets more people to believe in the fairy tales, the curse will grow weaker.

So... I have three questions for you:
1. Do you watch Once Upon a Time?
2. What do you think about my ideas?
3. Do you have any theories about what will happen next week? The curse? Baelfire? Will Henry stay dead? Or anything else?

I would love to hear your theories!!

An undeserved gift

2012-05-07T18:42:00.001-05:00

This is a post I wrote for our church's web site. I'm reposting it here as a reminder to me... :)

**

A few weeks ago, our children heard about the upcoming outreach event at The Sanctuary to help families clean up their yards. My son eagerly asked me, “Mom, can we pleeeaaaase go to “Tend the Garden”?

Our family has had the privilege of being able to take part in some of the other events organized by our Justice and Compassion Ministry, and my kids know what a blessing — and what fun! — it can be to join with other families on a service project.

“Well, we can definitely do Tend the Garden,” I replied. “We are part of Tend the Garden! They’re coming to our house!”

Our four kids were bursting with excitement. “People from the church are coming to OUR house?!” they exclaimed. “They are going to clean up OUR YARD?!”

Our kids started counting down the days to May 5. They couldn’t wait.

I will admit that I wasn’t quite as ecstatic. “Anxious” might describe my emotions a little better.

In fact, when Cheryl Lynn Cain, director of Justice and Compassion, had e-mailed me a few weeks earlier asking if we would be one of the two project sites for Tend the Garden, my immediate internal reaction was, “NOOOOOOO!”

“We don’t deserve it,” I thought. “There must be someone else who needs help more than we do.”

But in her e-mail, she said that God had put our family on her heart. Hmmm. Maybe she was right.

Cheryl Lynn has never been in our yard, so she wouldn’t have known that our garden could use some tending. When we purchased our house, we inherited a lot of landscaping. We have trees that need pruning, bushes that need trimming and weeds that need pulling. We have a large barren spot in the backyard from where we moved our old sandbox. And we have tons and tons of landscaping that could use some mulch.

Our yard is a big project in an ordinary spring. This year, my husband and I had already decided that there was no way we were even going to be able to think about it.

He tore up his shoulder around Thanksgiving, and finally had surgery on it in early March. He could barely use his right arm for the three months leading up to the surgery. Post surgery recovery has been even harder. He still has several months of recovery time before he will be able to start building muscle in that arm and use it at even a minimal level.

Between helping him, taking care of our four kids, and staying on top of my job as communications director, I didn’t really have time to think about the lack of mulch and overgrowth of weeds.

After talking to my husband about the Tend the Garden project, we both knew we had to say “yes.” We know what a huge blessing it can be to serve others. Even though we were uncomfortable, we didn’t want to steal that blessing from those who wanted to serve.

And really, at the heart of our objection was pride. We realized that we like being self sufficient. We like being able to take care of things ourselves. We aren’t used to having to ask for help. We prefer to be the ones serving someone else. It was uncomfortable to be on the other side of things.

We realized that it’s hard to open up your life to people to invite them in, let them see your mess, and raise your hands and say, “I can’t do this on my own.” As the day got closer, I learned a lot about humility. I gained so much respect for the people in my life who have allowed me to come in and help them. I learned so much about serving others by being the one served.

At around 9 a.m. on Saturday, about 10 adults and 10 kids started swarming around our yard. They brought shovels, wheelbarrows, trimmers and work gloves. Joel, our project manager, kept everyone moving and working together. They trimmed bushes. They pulled weeds. They carried mulch. They filled lawn bags. They put down sod. One sweet friend even repaired the screen on our back door.

By the time they were done, we had filled 21 lawn bags with debris. The transformation was amazing. We heard the team that worked on the second house did an incredible job, as well.

Words can’t even begin to convey our thankfulness to the families who came to help tend our garden. We were so blessed. We felt so loved. And we are so humbled by their sacrifice.

After everyone had left, I was spraying down our muddy patio with tears running down my cheeks, so overwhelmed by what had happened. “I can never repay these people,” I thought.

Then, that still, small voice spoke to my heart.

“That’s the point,” I realized. “That’s what grace is. It’s an undeserved gift. You can’t repay it.”

I’ve talked so many times about how our church shows the love of Jesus to people through our actions. That’s what these people were doing for us.

Just like my yard, my heart can be a filthy mess. I’m not capable of cleaning it up on my own. But God showed us grace and mercy. He gave us the free gift of his son to die for us to clean up the dirt and mud in our lives. We don’t deserve it. We can’t repay it. We just have to accept it.

Thank you, Sanctuary, for showing that kind of love to us! We love you!

~ Emily Neal

Communications Director

(To view photos of the two Tend the Garden projects, go to our Facebook page and click “photos.”http://facebook.com/cometothesanctuary)

She's all grown up

2012-05-03T17:53:00.000-05:00

Eighteen years ago, before I had my own kids, before I was married, before I had even started dating my husband, before I had my first full-time job, I "adopted" a little girl.

Her name is Kebabush, and she lives in Ethiopia.

I had the incredible privilege about a year before that to spend 12 weeks in Africa. To this day, those three months would rank among the most life-changing times of my life. I came home and went through the very difficult process of reverse culture shock.

Many of you have been there. It's a feeling of disgust of all we take for granted in this country. Walking through the grocery store feels far too indulgent. Taking a hot shower is no longer a given. All of the clothing, the toys, the shoes, the food, the restaurants. It all seems like too much.

And I was desperate to find a way to do something to continue helping the people I left behind. The women whose eyes were filled with delight when I gave them my half-used bar of soap. The moms who were overjoyed with my hand-me-down shoes. The three families who couldn't stop thanking me because I took them to the market with $100 and bought them enough food to feed their families for several months.

Once home, I felt guilty standing in a hot shower with water pouring over my head, knowing they might never in their lives experience such a simple luxury.

I was so thankful I had been able to meet people in Zambia who worked for World Vision. I saw the work they were doing to help communities that didn't have running water or electricity. I saw how they helped kids get an education, even in a building without a roof. While their mission included telling families about the hope of Jesus Christ, they also provided practical assistance to help improve people's lives and make it easier to get through the day.

When I got home, I looked up World Vision and asked to be assigned a child in Africa. It wasn't long until I received a card with her picture, telling me about her favorite games and subjects. She was too young for school then, but she helped with carrying water and cleaning up the house.

We wrote letters. I sent gifts. And every year when I received her picture, I was amazed to see how much she had grown. I dreamed of seeing her in real life some day. What would that be like to walk into her village?

A lot has changed in my life in the last 18 years. I became a newspaper reporter. I moved from one city to another. I got married. I became a stay-at-home mom. I've given birth to four children of my own.

Through all of that — all of the changes, all of the envelopes that have come in the mail — Kebabush has been a constant. I can't think of any other organization or company I have written a check to more times than World Vision. I've paid off cars. I've moved out of apartments. I've paid off student loans. I've switched churches. We bought a house.

And for 18 years, I've been sending my monthly check to World Vision.

This week, I got my last bit of info about Kebabush. I knew this day had to be coming.

She grew up. She graduated from the World Vision program. I don't really know what this means. I hope she's healthy and able to support herself somehow. I hope that maybe in some small way her life was better because of my help.

I feel sad knowing I might not ever hear from Kebabush again. I've said her name so many times. I've "known" this girl longer than my own children. I might not ever know what happened to her. I probably won't ever hear if she gets married or has kids. I won't ever know if she moves out of her community in Ethiopia.

World Vision assigned a new child to me. It feels so abrupt. I'm not quite ready to accept the fact that my "adopted child" has a new name, a new face and a new family. It's bittersweet to think that this little girl will someday grow up and graduate and be on her own, too.

It feels so small to send off that check every month for a mere $30. I've done it so many times without even really thinking about it. I hold onto my memories of meeting those World Vision workers and hope that somehow I've helped.

And I think about Kebabush. A young woman now. All grown up.

What about you? Have you ever sponsored a child in another country? What has the experience been like for you?

What did I sign up for?

2012-05-01T12:08:00.003-05:00

For the past couple of years, I have been begging my boys to go to summer camp. Every year it's the same old story. They just love their sweet mama too much to leave her for a week to go off and swim in a lake, canoe, drink soda pop and not shower. I am an awesome mom.

OK... maybe that's not exactly true. But for several different reasons, they just weren't sure if they wanted to go.

This year, I realized that not only are both boys old enough to go to camp for a full week, but my daughter is old enough to go away to camp for a couple of days, too.

Without telling them or asking them and thus, opening the door for them to worry about who they will know and what happens if they get sick and what if it rains and yada, yada, yada, I signed them all up for camp.

A few days later, I casually revealed the news, which resulted in shouts and cheers of delight. I'm not sure if it was because I had been talkin' with my southern accent all week or if it had somethin' to do with me feedin' 'em nothin' but plain pasta for dinner every night. But one way or another, they couldn't wait to go away to camp!

They ran over to the home of their experienced camp-going friends and revealed the news. This brought out all sorts of advice on what happens at summer camp.

They came home bursting at the seams with all of the information they had acquired. The louder the camp counselor, the more fun they will have! If they drink all of their water for the day, they can drink pop! And most importantly, their moms will send them care packages!

WHAT?!?

No where on the web site for this summer camp did they say one word about the mom needing to send care packages. My heart sank. It has been years since I've really used the post office. I pay all of our bills online. I send all of my birthday greetings via Facebook. If I need to send a gift, I just ask Amazon to ship it.

How on earth would I be able to put together a care package, get it to the post office and time it correctly so it arrived in southern Wisconsin while my kids were at camp?

Could I just send all of their care packages in one box and they could divide the spoils?

"No!" they informed me. They would each be in a separate cabin and they would each need their own care package every single day. Their friend had already told them how horrible it was his first year at camp when his mom didn't know to send a care package, and he was the only kid in his entire cabin without a box full of Oreos, Pringles and candy bars. Oh my.

Now, not only did I have to successfully send one box and hope that it arrived somewhere within the window of time they were at camp, I actually had to put together three boxes per day and get them all to camp on the correct days.

I started thinking about the time I went to the post office, and I was the ONLY person in the place. I walked up to the counter to mail my package. The postal worker lifted her eyes and glared at me.

"You're supposed to take a number," she instructed.

"But... but... I'm the only person here," I meekly tried to explain.

"It doesn't matter! You need to take a number."

I was sweating now, trying to come up with some other way to get around daily trips to the post office. How about if I pack the care packages in your luggage and each day you can grab one and then pretend you got it at the camp post office!?

"No, mom," they said. "The other kids will know."

How about if I just send you an e-mail with a gift card you can use when you get back home?!?

"No, mom. It has to come through the post office."

Oh, man. I only have 10 weeks left until camp. I better start collecting boxes and reading up on the USPS web site on delivery times if I'm going to have any hope of surviving summer camp.

I turned to my experienced summer camp mom friend in distress. How can I possibly get around this secret summer camp requirement?

Just drop off the boxes at the camp post office and label them with the days you want them delivered. The camp counselors will deliver them to your children on the correct days.

Oh.

What a relief! I can sleep again at night. And ummm... there's a certain mama who might be almost as excited as her three kids about summer camp.

Our new normal

2012-04-28T11:10:00.001-05:00

It's been a while since I've written an update about CapableDad's shoulder surgery and what life has been like around here with our wonderful one-armed leader. We are so thankful for everyone who has asked about us since CD's surgery.

It's been seven weeks now since surgery day, and I think we finally feel like he has turned a corner. CD is now at a more manageable pain level on a daily basis. He hovers around 3 to 5 on a scale of 10. Even a week ago, his pain level was usually around 5 or 6 most of the time.

His range of motion has improved significantly. I've been surprised a few times the past week to walk in the room and see him holding his right arm straight up in the air without assistance from the other arm. This is a major accomplishment and so great to see!

His strength in the right shoulder and bicep is still at zero. All of his muscles in and around the top part of his right arm are basically gone. The doctor doesn't want him to start strengthening his bicep or shoulder muscles at all until week 12. He can't even lift a cup to drink with his right arm at this point.

I have learned a lot about the difference between being able to move your arm and strengthening your arm. Right now, he needs to work on improving his movement without compromising the area where the muscle is reattaching itself to the bone by putting pressure on it through any type of lifting.

He also has developed a secondary condition called Bursitis, which about one in 50 people get after a surgery like this. It's an inflammation in his elbow caused by all of the excess fluid in that arm. His elbow has a big swollen bump on it that gets worse with physical therapy.

CD still goes to Torture Therapy three times a week for about two hours each session. His therapist is great and really nice, despite the fact she pulls and tugs on his arm to the point of tears a lot of days. :) Thankfully, these sessions don't completely knock him out like they did in the beginning. He still needs to come home and hook up the ice machine afterward, but they don't require quite the level of pain medication as before.

It's been five months since the original injury and since CapableDad has been able to use his right arm. The rest of us have gotten used to this "new normal," and we all get excited by small things like seeing him spread butter with his right hand.

The boys have gotten into a good routine of carrying all of the garbage out to the curb, and they are learning to mow the lawn. The biggest improvement is that CD can drive now, so he can help drop off kids at various places and run to the store for a gallon of milk. A full grocery run requires him to take along a child helper to push the cart and get everything into the car. But he has tried that a few times!

I am learning to just be OK with the fact that some things aren't going to get done around here if they require any type of lifting or strength. I'm learning to say "yes" when anyone asks to help in any way. It's very humbling, and I definitely prefer to be on the other end of things.

Our church asked us if they could come over and help us do some spring projects in our yard. At first, we were both against the idea because we felt like other people needed help more than we do.

Our yard is pretty ridiculous because we inherited a lot of landscaping, trees and bushes from the previous owner. To be honest, there are just too many other things that need to be done for me to really devote the time that would be needed to take care of the outdoor stuff. I also realized that part of the reason I was worried about having people help us was because of pride.

So, I'm learning to be grateful and not worry about whether I think I "deserve" to be helped. We know that sometimes the "helpers" can be blessed as much as those being served, and we are so thankful for people who are willing to come along side us and just make things a little easier.

We all have our moments when we wish CapableDad could throw a baseball with his boys or pick up the toddler to give her a big hug. It's hard to see him in constant pain for such a long period of time. But we are thankful for each new day and the progress that he makes. And we are even more thankful to know there is an end in sight. It makes me sympathize so much with people who have a condition that might not ever get better.

Some of the other things that are happening around here:

Friday was our last day of enrichment classes for the kids. They have learned so much this year at our Friday co-op! You can check out some photos of what they've been doing here.
We're sticking to our May 1 deadline to figure out our plan for the fall. I'm actually excited that the deadline is right around the corner! I'm looking forward to a worry-free summer!
We will be finishing up our school year May 14, which is the last day of our academic classes. The kids will have final exams on that day, and they are working hard to finish up several projects due on May 7.
Baseball season is in full swing! We are looking forward to some warmer weather so we don't have to freeze our buns off during the games! We know that is coming soon.

Thanks so much for checking in! We appreciate it!

My personal season of torture

2012-04-20T19:29:00.001-05:00

A few times a year, I have the same bad dream. It's kind of like that dream where you forgot to go to a college class all semester and you suddenly realize it on the day of final exams. Or the dream where you totally forgot to go to work for two months, and you are trying to explain it to your boss.

But in this dream, I forgot to send my kids to school. For three years.

I wake up in a panic.

Although I didn't "forget" to send them to school, I just didn't do it. My mind starts racing. Is this really even legal? I get the notice in the mail every year, telling me when to register. I just throw it in the garbage. Shouldn't someone come looking for us soon?

I start questioning myself. Have I really taught them everything they needed to learn the last three years? Have I given them every opportunity to help them become well-rounded kids? Have I ruined their lives?

The truth is that if some school official came to our house and examined what we do during a school year, he or she would probably be impressed. I secretly kind of wish we lived in a state that required testing only because it would make me feel more at ease with the fact that we are, in fact, covering all — if not more — of the material my kids would get in a traditional school setting.

The truth is that my kids have an awesome circle of friends and lots of extracurricular activities. We have time to do things and develop relationships that we might not have as much time for otherwise. Their circle of influence is definitely smaller than it would be in a typical school environment, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

And the truth is that my kids really enjoy our lifestyle. Sometimes I find that hard to believe. I can't imagine being educated at home. But when I ask them what they would like to do, they ask me to continue to home school them.

Despite all of these arguments, each spring without fail, I have to put myself through a season of personal torture. As surely as the butterflies will burst from their cocoons and the flowers will bloom on the trees, I will investigate every other possible option for educating my children.

I envy people who don't do this. I envy public school moms who wrap up the school year in May or June and look forward to a new school year in the fall. I envy home school moms who buy the next year's curriculum in April or May because they know they will be continuing. And I envy private school moms who fill out their re-enrollment papers in March and mail in the first tuition check in May.

Not me.

I make spreadsheets and lists. I compare the costs. I analyze the pros and cons. I visit school and co-ops. I get mad at the state of Illinois that I pay so much in taxes but they don't offer my children the "ideal" school environment I would like for them.

I shut down when people ask me what we are doing next year. I ignore re-enrollment deadlines and try not to panic when I get e-mails reminding me that I need to sign up for classes.

I compare myself to other people. How do my friends seem to find so much joy in taking responsibility for the education of their own children, but I feel so inadequate? How are other people so organized? How do they make school so fun?

Then I remind myself that I can't compare myself to other people. We don't all have the same number of children. Our children don't all learn the same way and have the same temperaments. While some of my friends also juggle toddlers or babies or part-time jobs, we all have different responsibilities.

I'm actually very thankful for this year. We have found a really good balance between sending the kids to classes two days a week and completing their school assignments at home the other three. Instead of saying that we "home school", I have started saying we "do school at home."

I think of a traditional "home schooler" as someone who wants to have control over her child's education. After three years, I have realized that I actually prefer to have someone else decide what we need to do each week. I'm OK with using someone else's choice of curriculum and having someone else grade my children's work.

I've been trying to think of a new name for what we do. Alternative schoolers? Home sCOOLers? (haha!) Maybe that would make me feel better.

One thing I know for sure is this. No schooling option is perfect. They all have their own list of pros and cons. We have to decide which pros we want the most and which cons we are most able to live with. Mostly, we have to stay focused on our primary objective, which is to help our children come to know and live in the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

So, here I am again. My personal torture season is intensified this year because my oldest will be going into 6th grade. I would really love for him to know that whatever we do next year, we will continue through at least 8th grade without his mom feeling the need to research every option. I want him to feel comfortable that whatever environment we choose will be where he will stay for all of middle school.

I've also given myself a deadline to end my torture much sooner. In the past, I haven't stopped thinking about it until Aug. 23. This year, I plan to make this decision no later than May 1.

That's progress, right?

I'm just wondering... am I really alone here? Does anyone else have these doubts? Please make me feel better and let me know. :)

Watching TV is harder than it looks

2012-04-19T09:55:00.002-05:00

I know you all will be amazed by my technological genius when I tell you this, and I really hope you don't think I'm bragging. But when I was a kid, we got this incredible new device in our house that literally changed our lives.

You had to use a series of cords and cables, all connected in the correct sequence to your television set. Then, if you could figure out how to push several buttons in the right order you could actually record the shows on TV and watch them later. I'm not kidding.

The thing was that no matter how many times I tried to explain this to my parents, they could never figure out how to program the VCR. I finally came to the conclusion that it just wasn't possible for people over the age of 40 to do this.

"Make sure the TV is on channel 3," I would explain. "Now change the channel with the buttons ON THE VCR. Set the timer, and click record."

I think my parents' brains started to wander off onto other things right after they heard me say, "Make sure..." The truth was, they knew I would do it for them. So why even bother to learn?

Recently, I have discovered the awful truth that no kid living in a grown-up body ever wants to hear. I have become my parents.

Here's the thing.

Other than the few years that I devoted my life to the TV show, "LOST," I really haven't regularly watched TV for about the last decade. Oh sure. I've wandered around the house while other people were watching "Sesame Street" or "Jo-Jo's Circus," but it's rare that I actually sit down and stare at the big black box in our family room.

I'm still not even sure how this happened, but recently, I have incorporated two television shows into my life. I was worried at first about how I would possibly handle the commitment. First, I would have to memorize the times and channels that these two shows were on.

One of the shows, "American Idol," requires three hours of viewing each week. The other, "Once Upon a Time," is a one-hour commitment. Add them together, and I feel like I've got myself a new part-time job. This doesn't even include the amount of time involved to go on Facebook and Twitter to see what people are saying after AI, or go on the OUAT web site to research hidden clues and mysteries.

Now, the problem that has come up for me is that I have had some scheduling conflicts making it impossible to watch these shows live. The other thing I've discovered is that watching TV shows these days often involves a lot more than a television set.

Before I started watching TV myself, I wouldn't even pay attention when the other people in the house turned on all of the gadgets and devices required to watch something. This came back to bite me when everyone was gone but me, and the toddler was demanding to watch Barney.

We don't have cable or satellite, so most of what we watch on our TV set comes in through Netflix. I called my husband at work and begged him to walk me through the steps required to turn on the XBox or the Wii, find Netflix, search for Barney and press play. As long as no one turns on the stereo system so the sound goes through the receiver instead of the TV, I am proud to say that I can now operate Netflix totally on my own.

The toddler sits in her little pink princess chair cheering me on in delight, as I navigate through the A, B and Y buttons on the X-Box to find her purple dinosaur. I feel like I've just conquered a new level of "Prince of Persia" when I'm done. (I have no idea what video games cool people play, so I just threw out the name of my favorite from 1995 to try to impress you.)

The toddler joyfully squeals, "Barney! Found! Barney! Found!" when I'm done. I can't tell if she is shouting because she really loves Barney that much or if she is just proud of her mama for actually navigating the XBox menu.

Now, my latest accomplishment is figuring out how I can watch a TV show after it has aired. I was convinced that because we only have a TV antenna that it wasn't possible for us to use TiVo or a DV-R. I secretly loved this belief because it was a great excuse for why I would not have to learn how to program another box connected to our television set.

I recently learned this might not be true. But whatever the case, we don't have any device in our house to record TV. My poor deprived children have never experienced the excitement of hitting play and watching their favorite cartoon a day later. If it's not on Netflix, they are out of luck.

Last night when I got home from small group, I probably spent two hours trying to find some way to watch the episode of American Idol that had just ended. I searched the AI web site and YouTube and blog after blog trying to find even the tiniest video clip of Hollie singing "Rolling in the Deep." A few weeks ago, I know I had stumbled upon a web site that had the video up right after the show. I wasn't so lucky last night. I finally gave up and realized I would just have to wait until morning.

Sometimes it amazes me that I can build a web site, record movies on my phone, and download books onto my iPad, but I have no clue how to watch television.

When I got up today, I was convinced my iPad would be my best bet for TV viewing. I have successfully downloaded the ABC media player so I can watch OUAT one day late each week. Surely, I could figure out how to watch AI. Nope. I would need Flash to watch the performances on the AI web site so it wouldn't work on my iPad.

This would require desperate measures. I would have to plug in my old laptop to get this to work. I've now invested about 2.5 extra hours into this week's TV viewing, and I still haven't seen the whole show. Oh, and that doesn't even include writing this blog post about it.

We don't have a TiVo in our budget for a while, so I guess I will just have to be patient. Being a part-time TV viewer is a new skill for me, but at least I now know the steps required to watch my TV show a day late.

But then I keep having the same thought. Could it be that maybe... just maybe... we still have an old VCR somewhere in our basement? ;)

The cake that will change your life

2012-04-16T15:03:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, I went out to dinner with a bunch of ladies to celebrate a friend's 50th birthday. When dinner was done, our waiter surprised us with a big chocolate cake. However, this was no ordinary chocolate cake.

One of the ladies had snuck into the restaurant early and asked the waiter to bring it out at the appropriate time. This friend also just happens to be a professionally-trained chef. The cake was beautifully decorated with fondant roses and perfectly frosted. But I'm not sure if it was the beauty of the cake or the amazing smell that first caught my attention.

Once I took a bite of the cake, I realized I had just tasted the best. chocolate. cake. ever.

Now, if you have been reading this blog for a while, you probably know that I am prone to exaggeration and sarcasm. But let me just tell you that I am being 100 percent serious when I say that this cake will change your life!

We all assumed that our master chef friend must have some highly confidential secret recipe she used to create this unbelievable dessert. We weren't sure if she was serious when she told us we could find the recipe right on the back of the Hershey's cocoa container.

Sure enough. I went home the next day and couldn't stop thinking about that cake. I went to the store for some Hershey's cocoa and made it myself. The cake is incredibly moist, which I think has something to do with the 1 cup of boiling water you pour into the batter.

But it's the frosting that puts it over the top. If you ever make this cake, make SURE you also make the frosting.

I'm not going to type up the recipe because you have to buy the container of Hershey's cocoa to make the cake and you will find the recipe right there on the back.

You are probably wondering how this cake is going to change your life. Fortunately, I'm here to tell you:

Even if you normally don't like cake, you will find yourself craving this chocolate cake.
If you are already a chocolate cake lover, others will pale in comparison. Even when people offer you Portillo's chocolate cake, you will be thinking about how much you want the Hershey's cake.
If you normally can consume a really big piece of cake, you will find that this cake is so rich you can't even finish an average slice.
This cake could increase your popularity. People will want to become friends with you just so you will make them THE chocolate cake for their birthdays.

So, think carefully before you make this cake. Can you handle your life being so radically changed? While you're thinking about it, I'll be baking. Let me know if you want to be my new best friend.

HPI, cupcakes, feathers and other random news

2012-04-15T12:37:00.000-05:00

It's hard to believe that with all that has happened in the past week we even had time to think about the Horrible Puking Illness, or HPI, as I call it for short. This week has definitely been one of highs and lows, laughter and illness, not to mention jewelry and cupcakes. So, this is one of those blog posts I'm basically writing for myself. I like to remember these kinds of things. You are welcome along for the read, but don't blame me if it's boring. :)

It really all started about 10 days ago. Capable Dad had just finished a really bad session of Torture Therapy. He came home, took his pain meds, sat down in the recliner and about an hour later started throwing up. He was already in tremendous pain from his shoulder, so trying to endure this illness on top of it was awful.

We were on spring break, and I was busy painting, clearing out and cleaning two bedrooms, so I couldn't even entertain the thought that he might have a virus that could potentially spread to the rest of us. I had moved three of my kids' clothing, toys and mattresses into the family room, and they were having a week-long slumber party while I painted their rooms. So, we blamed it on his pain medication, and even his PT agreed that he might have developed a serious allergic reaction.

The puking came and went, and somehow I managed to get the rooms put back together in time for the weekend.

Easter Sunday was a few days later. Since we couldn't travel, we invited some friends over to share Easter dinner with us. The toddler experienced her first real Easter egg hunt. You can imagine her excitement when she realized those plastic eggs contained CANDY!

She could barely stop stuffing chocolate eggs in her mouth long enough to keep searching for more. Being the awesome mom I am, I let her quietly take her Easter basket up to her room, and I ignored the reality that she was consuming large amounts of candy, just so I could enjoy some nice conversation.

When she started throwing up the next morning, I blamed it on the candy. But it didn't stop. I spent Monday washing sheets, giving her baths, changing outfits, and cleaning furniture and carpets. It seemed that as soon as I got her cleaned up from one mess, cleaned up the area where she had been sitting and then placed her in a new location, she would throw up again. It was an unbelievable day.

On Tuesday, Capable Dad had to get a cortisone shot in his arm, which knocked him flat again. This involved four large needles being inserted into his very sore and swollen shoulder.

However, I had already arranged a ladies' night out to say good-bye to my friend who was moving to Louisiana. It had become our little tradition to go shopping and out for dinner for birthdays and special occasions. So, we were off to Charming Charlie to roam around and get overwhelmed by all of the accessories. I made everyone try on a hat and model for the camera.

After that, we had dinner, and our friend, Vicky, made these amazing cupcakes! She is such a sweet friend and a trained chef who has a way of surprising us with her culinary creations.

On Friday, I knew we would be saying our real good-byes to our friends, so I did what any crazy mom would do. I scheduled another get-together at our house after co-op.

It seems like my daughter spends most of her life surrounded by boys. Her two older brothers have the majority of the play dates, and she goes along with their games of football, basketball and baseball. So, we decided to invite some friends over for something totally girly. Our friend is a hair stylist, and she came by to put feathers in some girls' hair.

I know it probably sounds frivolous. But my daughter and I love relationship, and we had a great time hanging out with the moms and daughters and doing something totally girly. Believe me. After the last five weeks we have had, it was a really nice break to just hang out and socialize for a few hours.

A few hours after the party, my daughter said she was feeling funny, and she laid down on the couch. A little while later, my husband found her crying and confused. She had thrown up in her sleep. She definitely had the worst round of HPI. That night, I laid next to her as she threw up at least every hour if not more often. This is when The Illness got its official name: the Horrible Puking Illness.

I forgot to mention that during the girly party, my 11-year-old was outside playing basketball and the ball hit his pinkie finger the wrong way. It immediately started to swell and turn dark colors. We decided to wait until Saturday morning to evaluate the finger to determine if we should take him to quick care. But about that time, he also started throwing up. The trip to the ER had to be cancelled so he could enjoy his HPI in the comfort of our home.

So, here's the quick summary:

Last night was the second night in a row of cleaning up after HPI.
There are several foods that no one in this house will ever eat again.
CapableDad probably is NOT allergic to his pain medication, which would have been good to know many times this week.
If you go to Charming Charlie with me, I might make you get your photo taken in a funny hat.
The 11-year-old's finger is still very swollen, but we're thinking it's a jam, rather than broken.
Either I have the immune system of an ox, or I will be getting sick any minute now.
If you read this entire blog post you deserve a prize!

A good kind of hurt

2012-04-14T11:07:00.000-05:00

Friday was a day our family has been dreading for a while now. After months of trying to prepare ourselves and a week of going-away parties, it was finally time to say good-bye to some great friends.

It's easy for me to look back over my life and count the really special friends in my life. It isn't often that I find a friend who feels more like a sister. It isn't often I find a friend with kids who have an instant bond with mine and become best buddies. And even more rare that our husbands would connect so effortlessly.

This family came into our lives at a time when we were experiencing a gaping hole that needed to be filled. It was three years ago when we began to home school for the first time. We were checking out a home-school co-op and met this family with two boys the same ages as ours. Their third son easily blended in as a little brother to our boys.

Those first few weeks of home school were a big transition after leaving a very tight private school community where my boys had some amazing friends. We were working on our school work in early September when my son got teary eyed. He liked doing school this way, but he sure missed his friends.

That's when I got determined to help my kids develop those same types of friends with the other home school kids around them. I got up my nerve to send an e-mail to this family we barely knew asking them to meet us at the park.

I was so focused on my boys and their need for friendship that I wasn't really thinking about myself. But after a few months of getting to know this family, I was pleasantly surprised at how much this mom and I had in common. A love of photography. A desire to chronicle our families' lives through blogging. Even an interest in cooking decorating! :) I don't have a lot of friends who could wander around a jewelry store with me or get excited about the newest line of OPI nail colors.

But my favorite part about this mom was her sense of adventure. I have a tendency of jumping into people's lives like a locomotive and dragging them along. I love to go and see and do and find new places.

My friend shared that interest. She was always up for the adventure, whether it meant letting the boys climb on tanks or watching sled dogs race in the snow or taking a hike through the woods just because it was a perfect fall day.

I guess you could say our boys rubbed off on each other. Ours developed a love of baseball and Nerf wars. Theirs took an interest in snowboarding and Angry Birds. Now, if one of them likes a movie, a sports team or a game, they all immediately like it.

The men were united by something you don't find very often in the Chicago area. While the rest of the world seems only to care about the Cubs and White Sox, these two had Cardinals red running through their veins.

From Day One, this family has been a huge part of our home schooling experience. The boys always made sure they signed up for classes with their best buddies, whether it was PE or year booking or woodcarving. My favorite part of the week is hanging out with my buddy and our other friends on Friday mornings during what we jokingly call "Group Therapy." It's hard to imagine how we can continue to home school without them.

We've known for half a year that Departure Day was coming. This is the kind of thing that makes me want to put up a wall and backtrack in some futile attempt to numb the inevitable. I'm glad I didn't. We kept living out our friendship in vivid color, making the most of the months that were left.

There were lots of tears shed on Friday. But in the end, I was thankful. That's a good kind of hurt. That's how you know it was worth it. That's the kind of friendship that is more like an extended family. And it's the kind of family you won't let go of just because you are separated by miles. When a good-bye hurts like that, you know it's the beginning of a new chapter. But it's definitely not the end.

The Daffodil Glade

2012-04-02T21:25:00.000-05:00

When my oldest son was a toddler, we discovered the Daffodil Glade at the arboretum in our area. Thousands of bulbs burst into yellow and white every year in early spring.

For many years, I would take the kids to the Children's Garden, forgetting about the daffodils until they were wilted with their brown heads drooping to the ground, ready to take a break for the summer. But the past few springs, I've made a point to get myself to the colorful glade while the daffodils were still in full bloom.

This adventure gets mixed reviews from my children. I always promise them we are going to the arboretum "for a hike." But when I ask them to all wear blue or brown or some other coordinating color, they know they are in trouble.

Thankfully, they are compliant little photo subjects. And I think they secretly love the idea of running through a field of flowers as much as I do.

I reminded them on our way home today that as long as they are living in my house, they can assume that one day out of every spring, I will be taking their photos among the daffodils.

Someday, they'll thank me.

We'll look back at all of those pictures in the middle of the flowers and they will say, "Awwww... Remember when mom used to take us to see the daffodils?"

They will have long forgotten the long car ride and how I made them pose among the flowers. They won't remember the fights in the car, their boredom or their desire to get back home and play basketball.

It will seem like one big fairy tale. A warm spring day, surrounded by flowers. And they will fondly remember their childhood trips to the daffodils.

That's what I tell myself anyway.

Frozen

2012-03-27T19:06:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to write this blog post for a while now. I can't believe an entire week has passed, and I'm just now getting around to doing it.

Last Tuesday was CapableDad's follow-up visit with the surgeon who repaired his shoulder. We had been anxiously awaiting this appointment to get more details about why the doctor totally changed the surgery from what he told us he was planning to do originally.

To give a quick summary, CapableDad tore his labrum, which is the cartilage that attaches the arm to the shoulder, and he also tore his rotator cuff. He did this back in late November, but it took until March 8 to find out the extent of the injury and schedule the surgery.

The doctor came in on Tuesday with a file full of photos of the inside of my husband's shoulder. He had shown these to me quickly right after surgery, but it caught me so much by surprise that I couldn't fully absorb all that he was saying.

This time, I was ready to listen carefully and look closely at the photos. It was obvious from the photos that his muscles were very red and swollen. The doctor said this was a sign that scar tissue had been building up inside his arm for some time. The doctor even used the word "horrible" or something along those lines to describe what he saw when he looked inside my husband's arm.

The scar tissue most likely had been building up for a long period of time. It could have been caused by a previous injury. Certain types of people — women, diabetics and people over 40 — are also more likely to have this happen even without an injury. Anyway, apparently, so much scar tissue had formed that he was developing a frozen shoulder (possibly) even before his injury in late November.

Once the doctor saw what was happening on the inside, he realized that my husband was not going to regain full movement if he repaired the labrum and rotator cuff as he had planned. Instead, he cut out tons of scar tissue and filed away a very jagged area on the bone. It was amazing to see in the photos how the bone was rough and discolored before and then nice and smooth afterward.

The bicep is attached to the shoulder with two tendons. One of these tendons was tugging on the torn labrum. Instead of repairing the labrum, he cut the tendon away from it and then fastened it to the bone at a lower point. Although the torn labrum will never repair itself, he said it shouldn't cause any more problems because the tendon is no longer pulling on it.

During the visit, the doctor pushed and pulled my husband's arm in every direction to find out how much motion he has regained through physical therapy. I had to cover my eyes to keep from passing out as I watched the doctor stretch my husband's arm over his leg and push it down.

Somehow, CapableDad survived, although he was in a lot of pain for the next few days. He also gave him a three-week deadline to show a lot more improvement in his movement. Otherwise, the doctor will give him a cortisone shot to help speed up the process.

Being in a constant state of severe pain has become a way of life for CapableDad. For nearly three weeks now, his daily schedule consists of doing physical therapy, icing his muscles and then usually drifting into a comatose state for a few hours from the pain killers. That's the second reason this blog post is called "frozen." He spends a lot of time in a frozen state as his ice machine pumps freezing cold water into the ice pack strapped to his arm.

The progress seems extremely slow, but as I watch him do his physical therapy now, I know he has regained movement. He is also feeling better to just walk around the house or talk to people who stop by.

This week, he started working on building some strength back in his shoulder. However, he can't use his bicep at all until he reaches the 12-week mark. He isn't even supposed to lift a cup with the injured arm before then.

Thanks for checking in with us and taking the time to read. We continue to be overwhelmingly blessed by people bringing us meals, helping us with stuff around the house, asking about us, praying for us, filling in for me on Sunday mornings and just stopping by to lift my husband's spirits. We can never fully convey how much we appreciate it!

Our Happy Pill

2012-03-21T11:37:00.002-05:00

Warning: Do not click play unless you are prepared to be overwhelmed by cuteness. No matter how bad our day is going, we can't help smile when we hear this:

I need help for this crayon craze

2012-03-18T22:07:00.000-05:00

Like many two-year-olds, our daughter is crazy about crayons. She begs for them. Demands them. Even calls out for them the moment she awakes.

"Cwayons! Cwayons! Cwayons!"

But this girl has no interest in coloring. The huge Elmo coloring book and the Barney coloring sheets go untouched.

Her obsession is with peeling the label from each one. One by one, she digs her fingernails into the wrapper and pulls and tugs until the crayon is bare. She isn't satisfied until she has removed all of the paper from every crayon in sight.

Our dining room table is covered with piles of naked crayons. Without their labels, it's nearly impossible to tell if we are about to color with indigo or blue. How can one discern between dandelion and yellow?

At first, I assumed this crayon craze was just a temporary fascination. I could tolerate a few of our older crayons going without their wrappers. Who cares about the free crayons we picked up at restaurants?

But then she found a box of Crayolas.

There's something I love about a brand-new box of crayons, perfectly sharpened, standing neatly in rows. I love sorting them by color and lining them up in gradients from reds to oranges to yellows to greens to blues.

But still? Maybe I could give up even some of our brand new crayons if it would keep her busy. Don't get me wrong. We love to play with her! It's just hard to keep her happy when all the other kids are working on school work. This girl wants one of us to be her constant companion. She begs and pleads for a playmate.

Unless, of course, she has crayons.

After a few weeks, the toddler starting getting faster at stripping down the crayons. We would dig through drawers and cabinets to fuel her obsession. Oh, I know I could have told her to stop. But each batch of crayons would buy me 30 minutes to help the other kids with school or to clean up the house. If I could handle picking up the little piles of wrappers, I figured it would be OK.

Now, we are several months into her crayon stripping addiction. I've raided the cabinets of reserved school supplies. A box of 24 will keep her busy for two days at most. Should I give in and start buying crayons just to keep her occupied? Soon, she'll be able to unwrap 72 in a day. Is it worth it to give the rest of the family long stretches of quiet?

Then, I got to thinking. There must be something else that is made to quench a toddler's thirst for pulling off labels? A sticker book with removable stickers? Paper dolls she could rip to shreds? I'm determined to find something to refocus her attention.

Anyone have any ideas?

Help!

Zero to 180

2012-03-16T02:58:00.000-05:00

Why am I updating my blog at 2 a.m.? I know it's ridiculous. I've basically reached the point that I'm tired of trying to go back to sleep over and over again.

I don't mean to sound like I'm whining and complaining. But for those who have asked, this is what life has been like the past seven days.

Our schedule feels very similar to what it's like to have a newborn in the house. Except we don't have a super cute little baby to admire during the waking hours. Instead, we have some very bruised, very sore muscles that are bundled up in knots, screaming and needing to be nursed around the clock.

I've been trying to think about why this experience is so different from anything we've been through before. I mean, I'm the Queen of Broken Arms. I've broken both of my wrists and both of my shoulders at various times in my life. I've been in full length casts and smaller casts and slings. So, I get the pain and discomfort of having one arm immobilized.

But the unique thing about having surgery on a muscle is that you are basically fighting against your own body's attempts to repair itself.

In both cases, the human body is creating scar tissue as fast as possible to fix the injured area. With a bone, this is great. Just don't move it for six weeks, and the bone actually ends up stronger than it was before.

With a muscle, your body is wrapping the area in scar tissue, which, if left alone, will become as hard as bone. If you don't continually move it and break it up early on, you won't be able to regain full movement later.

Right now, Capable Dad's ability to move his right shoulder is at zero. He has to exercise his injury three times a day without actually moving the muscle that is trying to heal itself. In other words, he has to use the other arm or his pulleys or a long cane to pick up, pull, lift and lower the limp right arm.

My amazing husband has always been naturally athletic. So, it's hard — and somewhat surreal — to see him struggle and wince in pain as he pulls up his arm to 90 degrees or slowly pushes it down to lower it to the bed. It's hard to imagine that these small movements can create such excruciating pain.

His schedule has become a four-hour cycle throughout the day. Eat. Take pain medication. Do physical therapy. Apply ice. Fall into a deep, comatose state from the pain medication.

Three days a week, he leaves the house to go to his torture session with the therapist (as opposed to exercising at home). She stretches and manipulates his arm to the point that he requires a lot more ice, more pain medication and more sleep. While he can move his bicep zero, her goal is to get it to 180.

Throughout the night, he starts to get restless around hour three of sleep as the pain medication begins to wear off. He has to pull himself out of bed and eat a snack so he can take more medicine and get back to sleep.

We can see him getting stronger each day. But I definitely wasn't expecting this level of pain to continue at Day 7. I really didn't know what to expect.

Anyway. We can't even begin to say how much we appreciate people who have helped with our kids and brought us food and prayed for us this week. We are super thankful for everything. The warm weather also has been a huge blessing that has made our days SO much more pleasant!

I wanted to post a photo of the injured area because there is nothing like an enormous bruise to make a blog post more exciting. Instead, I will post a photo of the 2-year-old eating one of the smiley face cookies sent by friends from Capable Dad's office. They totally made us smile!

The vampire or couvade syndrome?

2012-03-12T10:05:00.000-05:00

CapableDad was almost ready for surgery. We had talked to nurses and the doctor's assistant who reviewed his medical history, got his IV in place and recorded his blood pressure. All that was left was a visit from the anesthesiologist.

She was a female doctor who was probably close to 60. She explained to us that she was going to give CapableDad some pain medication in his IV and then she would insert a needle into his neck to administer a pain block to his right shoulder.

She rubbed her hand along the side of his neck to show us the area where she would insert the needle.

"Ohhhh, he has a niiiiiice neck," she said with a big smile. She felt his neck again. "Yes. He has a very nice neck."

She looked at me and laughed. "Oh, we're all vampires," she said jokingly.

After she left the room, my husband and I both cracked up. It seemed like her laugh was just a little too sinister. Could it be that she really WAS a vampire?

And if not, can you imagine a male doctor making the same remark about a female patient? I'm not sure my husband would have thought it was funny if the tables were turned.

After the surgery, CapableDad said he couldn't remember a thing about having a needle injected in his neck. He couldn't even remember counting to 10. He said the anesthesiologist told him to lie down on something like a bean bag chair and said, "This isn't going to be very com...fort...a......"

And that was it.

I was in the waiting room by then, but I think I know the exact moment the needle went in. I felt a sudden pain in my back. It was the unmistakable pain right in the spot where my epidural went in for each of my four C-sections. Although I have felt that pain once in a while during the last 11 years since our first child was born, I haven't felt it in more than a year.

I have had that pain in my back almost constantly since CapableDad's surgery last Thursday. I've also been ridiculously tired. While his super-powered pain medication often gives him extra energy, it seems that with each pill he takes, my grogginess grows.

What was going on with my extreme exhaustion and this pain in the back? I looked on the Internet for answers, and that's when I came up with one possible explanation.

It's a scientific fact (studied by scientists and PROVEN by medical professionals) that when someone you love goes through an extremely painful situation, you can also feel their pain. It happens most often to a husband during his wife's pregnancy. You've probably seen those guys who grow a gut as large as their wife's pregnant belly? Sometimes they have fantom labor pains, too.

They even have a name for it. Couvade Syndrome. That must be it. I diagnosed myself with this medical condition. I would need to take frequent naps, eat extra chocolate and take hot baths. That would be my only hope for a cure.

But as I thought about it more, I realized there could be another possible cause.

My husband has been in so much pain that he's only tried to take a shower one time. His shoulder is still covered in Sharpie marker where the doctor mapped out a diagram of his muscle structure on the outside of his arm. Just below that is the initial of the doctor and the anesthesiologist who both left their tattoos to make sure they operated on the correct side of his body.

Maybe she WAS a vampire after all. Or maybe it was voodoo. Was it just a coincidence that I felt that sharp pain at about the same moment she would have injected the needle in his neck? Could there be more to the fact I've been fighting illness and fatigue since we got home from the hospital?

I realized I needed to get rid of her markings.

I carefully took rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball and did my best to wipe away her initials still there in Sharpie marker.

My back is feeling better already.

Or maybe I just need a nap.

Third day

2012-03-11T10:52:00.000-05:00

Today is Day 3 after Capable Dad's surgery. We both woke up feeling worse for wear.

His shoulder is in immense pain. His back hurts from trying to sleep upright. His head is foggy from so much pain medication.

I woke up with a sore throat, runny nose and stuffed up head.

I also woke up so thankful for the people handling my Sunday morning responsibilities at church this morning. I looked at the clock and added an hour for the time change and realized there was no way we could have made it on time. I was so glad for the freedom to sleep this morning.

While I overslept, the boys were helping their dad fill up the ice machine that pumps freezing cold water into his ice pack. The 7-year-old has been busy all morning practicing her hand stand walk overs in the family room. And the 2-year-old runs around in circles singing a medley of her favorite songs: "Twinkle-star! Twinkle-star! I love Barney! I love Barney! Jesus Me!"

The most difficult part of yesterday was helping CapableDad do the physical therapy he is supposed to do at home before he goes back to his second torture session on Monday. We have a pulley system that hangs over the top of the door. He straps the injured arm to one handle and the goal is to pull it up to a 90-degree angle. He doesn't move his arm at all the rest of the day, so the shock of doing this exercise is great.

He's only supposed to do it for three minutes. We are both extremely relieved when he makes it that long. It's really hard to watch him in so much pain as he slowly move his arm up and down again. But he's a trouper and determined to do his exercises.

We learned at physical therapy that Day 7 is when the human body starts laying down scar tissue like crazy. Once in place, the scar tissue is as strong as bone, so it will be very difficult to regain movement if it settles. The goal is to get as much movement back as possible before the scar tissue forms.

After three minutes of physical therapy, we get the ice and pain killers ready. The physical and mental exhaustion set in, and he's usually knocked out for a while.

Overall, we are so thankful. This week is supposed to include some 70-degree weather. We have been so blessed by people helping us out in every way. Thank you so much to everyone who has asked about us, brought a meal, sent a text or said a prayer. We appreciate it!

Small miracles and unexpected blessings

2012-03-10T13:19:00.000-06:00

It feels like I've been trying to get on my blog for weeks to update all that has been happening in our lives. Despite the fact I'm fighting a cold and should go take a nap right now, I'm finally forcing myself to sit down and write about some of the events of the past few days. I don't want to forget the details, and this is the one way I will be able to look back and remember.

Thursday was the day we had been anticipating for months. My husband has been living with some very serious pain in his right shoulder after an accident that actually occurred around Thanksgiving. At first, he tried to ignore the pain, but by the beginning of January, he couldn't take it anymore.

It took several trips to different doctors, X-rays and an MRI to determine that he had torn his labrum, which is the cartilage that attaches the arm to the shoulder. He also tore his rotator cuff, which are the muscles and tendons that surround the shoulder.

He was referred to an orthopedic surgeon who handles many injury cases for major sports teams in the Chicago area. We would have to wait more than a month to get in for surgery. We sometimes doubted the decision to stick with this doctor because the wait was so long and he was in so much pain. But that turned out to be one of our first small miracles.

After the surgery on Thursday afternoon, the doctor and his assistant called me from the waiting room to explain what had happened during surgery. After he saw my husband's muscles and injury from the inside, he decided to totally change his plan. The doctor realized that it was going to be very difficult for my husband to regain his range of motion with the original plan to stitch the labrum to the bone.

Instead, he decided to move the tendon that attaches the bicep to the bone. By doing this, the bicep would no longer tug on the torn labrum, causing so much pain.

He also filed away part of the inside of the shoulder bone and a bone spur that had formed. This was all very confusing to me, but he assured me the end result would be a much better recovery. While the other surgery had a very good chance of leaving him stiff and making it difficult to resume his love for biking, this approach should give him the ability to recover completely.

So, we both feel like finding a doctor who could make a call like that during surgery and look out for his best interest and lifestyle was one of our small miracles!

Another small miracles actually came two months before the injury. My husband was offered a new job almost out of the blue. He wasn't looking to switch companies. But we were attracted to the change by two things: better health insurance and a better lifestyle.

At his old company, it would have been very difficult to take the time off that he will need for his recovery. We are also so thankful for much better health insurance that will cover a lot more of his surgery and physical therapy. He is expected to need PT three times a week for three to six months. Looking back at when he started at this new job in October, we would have never imagined how much we would need these benefits!

The last few days have been packed full of unexpected blessings. I've been blown away by all of the people from our church who have been showing up with meals and calling and texting us to see how they can help. I didn't really think I would need much help since I wasn't the one having surgery. But taking care of my husband, as well as our four kids, has been harder than I anticipated. I have been exhausted the past few days. We are so, so thankful for everyone who has helped us in any way.

I could probably go on and on, but I will wrap up by saying our last unexpected blessing has been the gift of laughter. In an odd way, we have really enjoyed the past few days. I have been able to stop thinking about all of my other responsibilities and just focus on my husband and taking care of him.

From the time we went on our "date" to the hospital for surgery, we have been cracking each other up. I hope I will find time to write about some of the funny things that have happened the past few days.

I guess I should mention one other small miracle — that is the miracle of the way God created the human body with the ability to recover from a surgery like this. The doctor is very serious about physical therapy and he scheduled my husband's first session the day after surgery.

It was kind of shocking to think that he could go from having his bicep reattached one day to lifting his arm the next. He has to keep his arm completely immobilized and he is in a ton of pain just normally. We could barely believe that the therapist wanted him to move it all over the place!

The PT is very difficult. It's exhausting for him to sit and lift his arm a few times using a pulley. But it's also amazing to see him regain a little strength.

Coming clean

2012-02-16T13:20:00.000-06:00

Last week, the kids and I were at the pool for home school swim. I spent most of my time chasing the toddler in the zero depth pool, but got a moment to sit down with all of the moms right when they were in the middle of a conversation.

One of the moms leaned over in an attempt to draw me in. "We're talking about eating unprocessed foods. Where are you on the whole spectrum?"

I attempted to quietly answer.

"I'm not really ON the spectrum."

I had been under a ton of pressure the past few weeks. Home schooling. Toddler gone wild. Big deadlines for my job. Other family issues. I tried to explain that I'm just trying to get through the day, and I consider it a major success that I'm able to put a hot meal on the table nearly every evening.

All of the ladies turned my way to hear what I was saying. I suddenly grew very insecure over my inability to think about buying organic food or juice fresh fruits and vegetables or complete even the most minimal amount of exercise in a week.

I do think it's awesome that women are being so proactive about their health and trying to live healthier lifestyles to benefit their families. I had even been thinking about buying a juicer because I know so many people who swear by it. But at that moment, I couldn't really engage in a conversation about it.

I guess I've been making a conscious effort to tune out all of the awesome things people around me seem to be doing because I find myself falling in the comparison trap. On that particular day I was beating myself up because someone had offered to pay for me to have my house cleaned, and I had to decline because I was too overwhelmed by the thought of getting my house clean enough for the house cleaner to come over.

So, anyway... all of that long explanation was to say that I had to completely crack up a few days later when my husband came home from Costco with an industrial strength juicer. We had talked about buying one over the summer, but never did because of the cost. When he saw one at Costco for about a third of the price of all the others we had seen, he bought it along with a cart full of fresh fruit.

I asked him and the kids to watch the DVD explaining how to use it. I was too overwhelmed to even do that!

"Please just tell me what I need to know," I begged.

Within a few minutes, they had the machine put together and it started to hum. I sat nearby with my eyes half glazed, still unsure about this piece of machinery that had taken up residence on my counter. I braced myself to choke down a cup full of spinach and kale.

Then, they handed me a glass of fresh juice. They started with apple-pear-orange juice. I couldn't believe how good it was! Plus it was totally free of pulp. I loved it!

Well, that glass of juice must have restored some major missing vitamins and minerals because I perked up and started shoving fruit down the chute. I begged the kids not to tell all their friends their mom was now officially "A Juicer." But they were so excited, it only took about 12 hours before they broke the silence.

So, I'm coming clean. I have been consuming a steady stream of juiced fruits and veggies for six days now. And I'm loving it! I've made fruit juice, veggie juice, soups and smoothies. If it grows in a garden or on a tree, chances are high that I have sucked the juice out of it.

I was surprised to find out that the fresh fruit juice would be so sweet! It's almost even too sweet for Sweet Mama. My favorites are really the veggie juices. Today for lunch, I had a "Daily Detox" (asparagus, cucumber and lemon) followed by "Lunch in a Glass" tomato, celery, cabbage and carrot.

I'm not really ready for an all juice "cleanse" yet, but I'm enjoying adding lots of juice to my diet.

Watch out! Who knows what's next. I might just start baking my own bread and drying my own fresh pasta. Or at least cleaning my house. :)

In defense of boredom

2012-01-31T16:37:00.000-06:00

On Saturday, our 9-year-old son had his first basketball game as part of a recreational league he is trying for the first time. This kid does not have a ton of natural ability when it comes to sports. But what he lacks in speed or agility, he makes up for in determination and love for the game. He loves to play sports and will find a way to practice, whether it's inside, outside, in the snow, the freezing cold or in the garage.

We weren't terribly surprised or even disappointed when the game began and we realized that after only two practices, this group of seven boys didn't even know the rules of basketball, let alone have the skill to dribble or make a basket. This seems to be our history with sports.

Whether it's baseball, soccer or basketball, our son tends to get drafted onto the one team that has only one or two kids with a whole lot of ability for the game. And that's OK. After several seasons of being on totally losing teams, I can say it's been a great experience to focus on learning a game and not worrying about winning.

But what was not OK was what we saw unfold at our first basketball game of the season and the first basketball game of any child in our family. Two of our nine players quit before the season even began. After the first four minutes of the game, three more boys decided they needed to take a time out.

Two of these boys sat on the bench and would not be convinced to go back into the game no matter what. One complained after four minutes of game time that he was done. He was too tired and would not be able to play one more minute. From outside appearances, all of the boys seemed physically fit and capable of playing longer than four minutes. But they refused to go back in.

That gave our son and several others another 56 minutes to pull the weight of the boys who sat down drinking water, refusing to be budged. The sweaty boys who played the entire game would not be given the luxury of sitting out for a few minutes because we would not have had enough players to continue the game. The other team had nine active players who took turns in the game.

I could hear one of the boy's moms yelling at her child from behind to get back in the game. He ignored her, and she stayed in her seat chatting with her friends.

After a few quarters of being destroyed by the other team, one of the dads got up and stormed out of the gym. He announced, "I'm not going to watch this!" apparently mad at the coaches, which included my husband who was simply volunteering to help out because the real coach was away on a business trip. The dad didn't bother to say anything to his son, who sat on the bench, refusing to even participate in the game.

So, I don't know any of these kids, their medical conditions, their family history or anything about them. I don't know if they have legitimate reasons to sign up for basketball and then refuse to play. I don't know their families, and I realize that I am jumping to conclusions, but here goes anyway.

Earlier that morning, when the boys showed up for their team photo, every single one of them, except for our son and one other boy, stood in line, playing either a DS, a PSP or an iPod. When one of the boy's moms told him to put down his electronic gaming device to actually participate in the team photo, he refused to listen and chose to take it with him into the gym.

I don't have any facts to support the cause and effect of what we saw that morning and what we saw that afternoon during the game. But regardless, I'm going to go on my soapbox.

Here's the thing.

What are we doing to our kids by allowing them to do what they want, behave the way they want and give them whatever is necessary to keep them entertained at all times?

Why can't a group of 9-year-old boys stand in a line for 30 minutes without being entertained by a portable gaming device? What is wrong with putting children in a position where they are required to interact with those around them?

OK. Our kids watch TV, they watch movies, they play the Wii and they play the X-Box. They do a lot of things other kids do. But they do not have unlimited access to stare at various types of screens, small and large at any moment they have free time.

Between doing home school and helping with chores and going to other activities, they have a pretty busy day. But when they can, they love to play. And what I mean by "play" is actually interact with the world around them. PLAY.

As long as they can tolerate being outside in a snowsuit, they are outside playing as much as possible every day. They play outside on the hottest days of the year. They are active. They run and play tag and they find ways to entertain themselves.

I love it when they tell me they are bored. Does that mean I give them an electronic device to pass the time? No!

Boredom brings out their creativity. It forces them to figure out what to do with themselves. Whether they are alone or with friends, their minds are able to find something to do. Draw something. Paint something. Make up a game. Imagine. Create. Read a book. Run. Jump. Move!

I'm not judging these boys because they didn't know how to dribble or they didn't understand the rules of basketball. That will come with practice. But it won't come from sitting on the bench, refusing to even try.

Maybe they need more minutes of boredom in their lives to give them time to work on it.

I know our son is excited for the opportunity he had to handle the ball nearly the entire game on Saturday. He's not naturally fast, agile or a great shot. The funny thing is, he has had significant problems with his knees since he was very young and we know that after an hour of basketball, he will be popping Motrin and sleeping with a heating pad to give him relief.

But he is determined. He knows what to do. He doesn't need his mom to yell at him to get up off the bench. He wants to PLAY.

My big fat photo archiving project

2012-01-26T20:10:00.000-06:00

During the last two weeks, I have been a little preoccupied with a big photo archiving project. It all started back on Jan. 2 when I completed my photo book for the year 2011.

I used to be a scrapbooker. In fact, my office is still packed with decorative papers, scissors, cutters and embellishments. But I am so glad that my days of cutting and pasting on paper are over! I am loving the amazingly quick, easy and high-quality digital photo books I can create in 24 hours, rather than 12 months!

After a marathon digital photo session on Jan. 2, I decided to get serious about going back and creating a photo book for each year of our family, starting with the first year I had digital photos.

The first thing I did was buy an external hard drive so I could store all of my photos in one place. I copied photos from older computers, my laptop, CDs, and my new computer. I created a photo library that now contains more than 20,000 photos.

While we have some digital photos dating back to 1999, it wasn't until the year 2004 that I switched exclusively to a digital camera. Our third child also was born at the end of 2004. But in October of 2005, my one-year-old computer crashed. The hard drive was fried. And I had no back up of the first year of my daughter's life!

I was so thankful that I had printed out about 100 photos of her birth and first few months. (WHAT a gift from God!!) So, to complete my photo archive, I have been scanning in all of those photos. (I already had photos for the first nine months of that year, but we bought my new computer the same weekend she was born, so we lost everything from that point on.)

The past few days, the scanner has been going constantly. It takes 4.5 minutes to scan one photo at 1,200 dpi. We all seemed to develop internal timers that would go off every 4.5 minutes, and someone would switch the photo!

Once I got all of those done, I decided to keep going. I scanned in all of the portraits we have taken since my oldest son was born. WOW! It's been so fun to compare all of the kids at different ages. And double WOW! It's amazing to see them grow up — literally — before my eyes!

Check it out:

2003, ages 1 and 3

2005, ages 6 months, 2 and 4

2005, ages 1, 3 and 5

2006, 2, 4 and 6

2007, 3, 5 and 7

2008, ages 4, 6 and 8

2009

2009, ages 3 weeks, 5, 7 and 9

2010, ages 6 weeks, 5, 7 and 9

2010, ages 6 months, 5, 7 and 9

2010, ages 10 months, 6, 8 and 9

2010, ages 1, 6, 8 and 10

2011, ages 1, 6, 8 and 10

2011, ages 2, 7, 9 and 11

2012, ages 2, 7, 9 and 11