gratitude and good ear news

Wednesday and Thursday Gratitude

*  I took Paul to the ENT this morning to have the fluid checked in his right ear.  The last check was March 22nd in the pediatrician's office, and the fluid was clear, thin like, and not infected.  The ENT doctor, the most friendly doctor we've ever encountered, couldn't even see the eardrums.  He told Paul his ear wax was so thick it was like having peanut butter covering both his ear drums.  "No wonder he failed two hearing tests!  No one can hear with that much peanut butter in there!"

He took us to another room where he proceeded to look through a microscope and suck all the wax out of both Paul's ears.  As we walked down the hall for a hearing test after that, Paul commented, "Wow!  Every body sounds so loud!  Even my own voice."

He passed his hearing test easily and his eardrums looked great.  He's cured!  We're so thankful!

Now, three hours later, Paul continues to comment on how loud everything sounds.  Hee! Hee!  We're all tickled at him.  He has a very loud voice, which gets on everyone's nerves.  Maybe now that he can hear, he'll naturally tone that down?

Doctor said Paul has a definite 'allergy shiner" look to his eyes, and he also noticed Paul doing mostly mouth breathing.  He said to get Zyrtec 24-hour allergy pills over the counter.  The Loratadine syrup (generic name for Claritin) I was using didn't work at all to relieve Paul's itchy eyes.  I researched children's allergies last week and learned that Paul is probably allergic to tree pollen, given the time of year.  Grass pollens haven't started in this area yet.  I also think he has indoor allergies.  I hope to obtain a referral for allergy testing sometime this year.  My husband is allergic to all the environmental allergens except mold.

My pediatrician never suggested giving Paul allergy medicine to try to clear his Eustachian (nose) tubes, so that the inner ear fluid could properly drain. Ear fluid build-up drains through the Eustachian tubes, if the tubes are functioning normally.  Having blocked tubes, from allergies or from a cold virus, causes fluid to build up, and makes it harder for it to drain once it's there.  I suggested to my pediatrician that maybe allergy medicine would help (based on my reading), and he said no, that allergies were a reason to build up fluid--not a reason that keeps fluid from draining.

I ran this by the ENT, and he agreed with me that yes, allergies need to be treated both to prevent fluid from building up, AND to help it drain once it builds up during a cold.

I need to change pediatricians!  Our guy has been practising medicine about six years.  Apparently that's not enough time to build valuable field experience.

I also asked the ENT if he thought all ear infections should be treated with antibiotics, since 80% are viral--meaning they should go away on their own. He said we can't practice "cookie cutter" medicine.  Each child needs to be treated differently--meaning we look at all the variables.  No surprise there. In a child with allergies complicating the matter, antibiotics might be appropriate. In a child with no special circumstances who doesn't appear very sick, or is symptomless, antibiotics are overkill.  A wait and see approach is better.

That's probably way more ENT information than you cared to read.  Sorry 'bout my long-windedness today!  I'm so giddy with excitement that Paul's only problem was wax!

*  In other good news, Momma and Poppa Robin began building a new nest yesterday in a corner of our neighbour's rain gutter.  They gathered all the materials from our yard and worked all day yesterday, continuing this morning.  We can't see the nest or take pictures without some difficulty, but at least we'll be able to watch the babes learn to fly, God willing.

Two robins got into a fight in our backyard, just as we sat down to dinner last night.  We remembered from our research that the females will fight other females over territory, and the males fight other males.  Of course, we have no way of knowing if these robins are the same ones who regularly nest here.  We just assume that, since they started their nest the day after losing their eggs.  Momma Robin's body must be very healthy to be able to produce eggs again so soon.  She did lay five eggs before, which is one more than normal.  Maybe she'll only lay a few this time?  Three to six eggs is the normal range, but most robins lay four at a time.

Okay then.  That's probably much more robin information than you needed or wanted?

* Another blessing for today is that the sun is out!  It's windy and 50 degrees, which isn't great, but at least we can take a walk!  Our spirits really needed a lift after so much dreariness.

* Miss Beth has a lingering nighttime cough from her April cold.  The post-nasal drip can be somewhat controlled when I hold her head higher, by cradling it in my arms on a pillow.  Late last night as I held her like this, I got teary-eyed. Overwhelmed with gratitude. She is so much sunshine!  So much sweetness! She won't be in our bed much longer.  I can tell her sleep cycles are lengthening and she'll be sleeping through the night soon, and will share a room with her sister--nursing just at naptime, bedtime or when she's overwhelmed.

How I'll miss her!  How I'll miss babies!  My life in some respects will be so much easier. She'll stop climbing cupboards, stealing from the fridge, and getting into things soon, and I'll be able to finish my thoughts, finish my tasks, and keep up a bit better around here.  Sanity will return, so to speak. But with that sanity will come some heartache.  Help me, Lord!  Help me accept change. Help me let go.

* We gave some girl clothes to my cousin's wife, whose young son just fathered a baby.  Peter asked why we were giving them away.  "What if we need them for another baby?", he asked.  I'd been carefully avoiding this question since the 2009 vasectomy, but this time I said, "Daddy decided we wouldn't be having any more babies."

Peter asked, "Is there some medicine people take to stop having babies?"   I said there was a surgery, and Daddy decided to have it.  He asked if it was painful and I said no.

I explained that letting God plan as many babies as He wants takes a lot of faith on the part of parents.  This is why most families have two or three kids, instead of six or eight or ten or twelve.  Faith is a gift, I told him.  People have different levels of faith in God's plan.  Some can let go entirely, while others need things to make sense right away.  And some people, I  told him, have medical problems that make it hard to have a lot of babies (post-partum depression, high blood pressure, history of pre-eclampsia, cervical problems, etc.).

I also told him my personal belief was that God's greatest blessings are reserved for those who put all their faith in God--for everything (notwithstanding following sound medical advice).

He contemplated this for several hours, and then told me he would let his wife have as many babies as God wants.  My husband and I both teared up at this.  What a gift Peter has!  Yes, he is young to even contemplate this, but somehow, I believe him!  He has repeated this twice since his initial decision. I pray his wife is equally gifted in faith!

Momma Robin's Sorrow And Our Lesson

On a dark, rainy, thunderbolting day, Momma Robin lost her eggs at the hands of a predator.  We're heartbroken over her loss!  The nest is located in a rain gutter corner, which we can't see from inside the house.  We don't know if it was a crow, a hawk, or a squirrel.  Regardless, Momma and her husband won't be back here next year, since it has proven unsafe.  Pairs will nest in the same place only if they previously had good luck there.

As an aside: Peter's photo of the blue robin eggs, shared earlier this week, made the eggs look larger then they really are.

Our only hope is that in prior years another robin pair--or we assume it's another pair--nested in the crook of one of our trees.  We hope to see them soon!  We're praying for nesting birds of any species.  Different species of birds nest at different times.  American Robins usually nest in April and in August, or more often if the Momma is especially healthy. 

As the tears flowed around here, I reminded the kids that we can have many interests, friends, and passions in our lives, but all of it eventually slips through our fingers; we will be disappointed in some way.  

I didn't mention, due to their young ages, that the same goes for our nuclear families.  We must love our families with all we've got, regardless.  But eventually, they too will disappoint us.  They too will pass away.

God is the only constant in our lives!  We must cling to Him!  We must hold everything loosely, while at the same time trusting Him enough to pour ourselves out for others, without expectation.

To cheer up the troops around here, I suggested spring-themed sugar cookies.  I used 100% whole wheat flour, which has worked for every other baking project.  I used to use Albino white whole wheat for sugar cookies, but I quit buying that.  We make sugar cookies far less often.

Anyway, don't try this at home!  It was very difficult to work with.  The cookies taste fine--everyone likes them--but we gave up on rolling and shaping them after about twelve shapes were completed.  We rolled the rest of the dough into balls.  I'm not sure this project cheered anyone up--especially not Momma--but it did distract us from Mrs. Robin's sorrow, and our own.

Today we will make the frosting and frost them.

I have a baking question for all you experts out there.  I just started making homemade muffins of different types, and I'm not satisfied with the moistness.  Am I stirring them too much?  Is there some secret to moist muffins?  Please share!

joy and gladness found therein

Isaiah 51:3 ...joy and gladness shall be found therein,
                                 thanksgiving, and the voice of melody.

Monday Gratitude:

- Two little girls who bless my socks off, helping in the kitchen and spreading sunshine

- Two strong boys who make me proud

- My Mary loving the outdoors

- A husband who loves the Lord

- Grace weaved throughout our days

- Though the laundry beats me up, I'm grateful we have more than enough to wear.

- The tulips will bloom any day now.

- Crockpot navy bean soup is very forgiving.  Praise God for the wholesome taste of beans with spices! (If you soak beans for 48 hours, you'll experience little to no gassiness)  At 9:00 AM I put navy beans in the crockpot on low with 6 cups of  homemade bone broth, thinking I would add the spices, bay leaf, ham, carrots and celery in just a little bit.  The day proceeded to get quite interesting and busy.  Finally, at 5:00 PM, I put in the spices and ham, but had to give up on the carrots and celery.  I let it cook for another four hours on low.  And you know what?  It's still quite tasty!  We'll have it for tomorrow's dinner. I just need to add in diced tomatoes and salt to taste.

- Momma's rocker for spreading love and good cheer

- hyacinth spread over the yard

- My Peter uses our broken video camera as his very own still camera.  I loved seeing him outside today, bearing the cold temps, to sit and wait for a good goldfinch picture.  He takes his nature photography seriously!

- Miss Beth falling in love with boiled eggs.  Yes, she did go to the fridge four separate times today, bringing me a dyed, boiled egg to peel for her. (And yes, I did have to duct tape the fridge shut after she'd eaten four.)

- blueberries on my oatmeal

- The color green popping up all over the landscape here

- The boys getting their own e-mail addresses and writing every day to their relatives and a friend.  My mom wrote to Peter, "Don't you think people would get tired of having perfect weather all the time?"  My wise Peter wrote back, "Yes, the weather can't always be nice.  If we didn't get rain we wouldn't get flowers."  Little does Peter know how profound his statement really is.  If we didn't have hardship in life, we wouldn't bear fruit for Christ.

spring memories

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Goldfinch,

My son, and the rest of us too, love you!  Please "get married" (as Peter refers to mating), build your nest here and have your babies.  Right here, in our yard.  It would make my boy's year.  If you could be so kind?

Love,

Peter's Momma

P.S. And Mr. Goldfinch, I'm sorry that you accidentally flew into our large window, stunning yourself.  I'm sorry my husband was so affected, that he tried to catch you and take you to a bird sanctuary for treatment.  Thank you for flying away and showing us that our prayers worked.  Glad you're okay!

The squirrels won't leave Peter's new plexiglass birdfeeder alone.  They jump onto it, pretty brave like.  I think we should all conduct ourselves with this same bold confidence--knowing who we are in Christ.  Can I get an Amen on that?

The weather was windy, cold and dreadfully wet.  We did the egg dyeing and the egg hunt wearing coats.  Asking excited children to wait for a nicer day, is just plain torture.  Better to get the thing done so normalcy can return.  Excited children can give me a headache, I'm sad to say.  Peeling them off the walls is no fun.

Don't get me wrong, I love their joy and I even do things to purposely bring it on.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Robin,

Thank you for choosing our yard for your twice yearly nests.  We love you and your bright blue eggs!  And we love watching your babes learn to fly. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  Watching you let go helps me to do the same.  I just don't want to emulate the whole wormy-meal thing.  Can we still be friends?

Love,

The Other Momma Around Here

hopelessness

10:30 AM.  We pile the children into the van for the five minute drive to my aunt's house.  We haven't seen my aunt and uncle (from my dad's side) since early December.  They've spent the last two winters in the Florida trailer they purchased.

They are happy to see the children and remark how they've grown.  We settle in, and my kids play with the decades-old Lincoln Logs and other classic toys my aunt keeps in her closet.

Peter tells about his new love for birds and details all the things he's been doing to attract them.  My aunt listens politely, admitting she knows nothing about birds.  Miss Mary, my four year old, then pipes up and says she knows a lot about birds.  That makes me smile.

Yes, Peter's constant bird rattle has made a bird lover out of my Mary, too.  She can identify every bird that comes to our yard, which is quite a list.

Paul, my game lover, makes words from a foam alphabet puzzle, then asks to play Uno with my aunt.  Mary asks to go outside, though no one wants to go with her.

My cousin's dog, Tyson, is dropped off and Peter, my pet lover, only has eyes for the dog.

Miss Beth sits in uncle's lap, listening to bluegrass music.  She is surprisingly content and quite still, as she studies her new surroundings. We don't go visiting much, so this is quite a treat.  

Mary, my independent one, goes outside by herself, exploring the vast, marshy yard.

An hour and a half passes. We take the offered Florida grapefruits on our way out the door--grapefruits my husband later pronounces the best he's ever tasted.

As we head for home, my aunt and uncle prepare to leave on a trip to Amish country with their son (my cousin Rick) and his wife. Travelling an hour to get there, once a month they buy Amish cheese and other foodstuff--walking through the different shops, visiting their Amish friends.

Arriving home, we unload the van and the children.  A rush ensues as we prepare for husband's work departure--putting his dinner together, his various keys for the jobs, his work shirts, cell phone, work boots, wallet, glasses.

He leaves.  

I look around the house.  Instead of doing routine chores that morning, I'd rushed into a batch of homemade apple muffins for my aunt, whose birthday we missed while she was away.

Remnants of baking clutter the counters, the sink.  Pajamas--tossed aside by children preparing for an outing--litter the hallway, the living room, the playroom.  Spring clothes from the shed, still to be washed, sit in storage boxes, further cluttering the living room.  Another storage box of clothes stored inside the house need a dryer fluffing and hanging.

Breakfast dishes, still on the dining room table, scream at me.  The left over cinnamon toast will surely draw the carpenter ants I've seen in the past week.  There aren't enough to worry me--just enough to warrant a sweeping after every meal.

I walk down the hall.  The bathroom is full of husband's night clothes, my night clothes, used towels and washclothes. Beds sit, dishevelled, with favourite stuffed animals littering the floors.

All I want to do is cry.  Truly.

I push away nagging feelings--feelings I usually escape because I'm so busy.  We never go anywhere.  There's just this house and its shocking messes.  The contrast of me coming home to this, and my aunt taking a leisurely day in Amish country, gets to me.  

If I had to list the hardest things about being low income, not having anything to look forward to would top the list.  The working poor--a term I use to refer to those working long hours for low pay--make up a good portion of the impoverished in this country.  They usually have enough food if they plan well, choose carefully, and know how to cook.  But everything else is questionable--the repairs, the utilities, the fuel, the miscellaneous.  Staying above water takes every ounce of energy, and they're always fearful of the next car repair, the next appliance repair, the next pair of shoes to wear out. There's little time for true leisure.  There's little money or time for things that take the edge off.

Life can seem unbearable at times.  We rush around for errands and appointments, due to sharing a vehicle.  Every time I get into that van, I'm on a strict deadline.  Every time I walk through the grocery store, I'm on the clock.  No time to waste.  Even a trip to the park is rushed because of husband's schedule, and I end up grocery shopping after dropping the family at the park.  There's just too little time to do both.

My mind wanders, as it often does now, to the low-income students I taught for nine years.  They represented single-parent families, most of them. They were worse off than we are, with most not having vehicles or phone service. I remember that we teachers judged these impoverished parents for spending money--even foodstamp money--on candy.  Why accept free breakfast and lunch for their children, at the school, if they had money for candy?

Do you know what the last two years have shown me?  Those children had nothing to look forward to.  Nothing but more stress.  Candy was the one thing Mom could do to make them smile.  

As I tackled some of the messes around here, God tackled my heart.  I want you to know what true hopelessness feels like.  I want you to be able to put your arms around the poor, to comfort them in their sorrow--not judge them in their circumstances. 


I have the Lord to lift me in my sorrow, to remind me of my blessings. Those families didn't.  Some drank, used drugs.  We teachers judged that, too, I remember.  Now I know why they abused substances.  They were in pain all the time.  All around them, life was good for others.  They saw families out for dinner, families out for a movie, families in nice vehicles, families buying whatever food they wanted, families buying whatever housewares they wanted, families going on vacations.

They, on the other hand, went home to yucky apartments they were about to be evicted from--again.

The Lord says we will always have the poor.  Social programs designed to give the poor a chance simply can't reach everybody.  We're out of money even, as a country.  Even those we can reach often don't have reliable transportation to take advantage of opportunities. Or they don't have neat and clean clothes, or an ounce of confidence, or an ounce of hope, or a stable place to live, or the electricity and water needed to look good for the interview.  On so many levels their situations are hopeless.

I remember all the lice my students got.  Now I know why the same families got lice over and over.  They couldn't afford the quarters needed to wash all the bedding, the clothes, the toys.  They couldn't afford the lice shampoo and lice spray.  They couldn't get ahead of it, in addition to all the other serious problems they encountered.

What I write here is really hard to fathom if you've never been down on your luck.  It's so easy to judge, but unless you've lived it, you're blind.

I don't know why God allows some to have so much, and others get nothing but misery.  Why doesn't He give salvation to every one of the poor, so they at least have the Lord's comfort?

I don't know the answer, of course.  I don't need to know.

I just have to trust in Him, for my own sake, and for all those families living worse off.