The morning started out crazy, with Daddy and I fighting simply because I am eight months pregnant, huge and cranky, and he is two months into my bed rest and exhausted. Money is tight thanks to our medical expenses, and the only stable thing right now is our marriage.  So, it made sense to attack that too.  Misery loves company, right?

Monkey, sensing our tension, was doing everything to draw the attention to herself - including throwing toys, not listening to instruction, throwing a fit about getting dressed/brushing her teeth, etc.   Basically the Anti-Monkey was spawned in all of it’s glory.

We finally made it out of the door and to the circus.  Monkey was tired from the morning, but was clapping along and giggling.  She especially liked the motorcycles in the steel ball.  After snacking on popcorn and lemonade, she fell asleep.  Although it should be noted she made it farther in the show this year, than last.  When the lights came on, Daddy lifted her to his shoulder and we began our trip home.  Well, about that time the Anti-Monkey spawned once again and threw a full blown temper tantrum because we were leaving the circus.  I know I am a proud mama, and I know there are things with her that I am blind to, however, I this is only the third time I have ever seen her loose complete control.  She was kicking Daddy’s seat in the car, screaming and crying so hard she could not speak, and trying to pull off her seat belt.

We tried to talk to her in calm voices.  We offered her some more of Mommy’s drink.  We tried to distract her with a movie.  No change.  We played stern Daddy and nice Mommy, which usually works.  No change.  Then Daddy did something I never thought he’d do:  He pulled over, pulled her out of her car seat, gave her a firm spank on the butt, put her back in her car seat and began to drive off.  The hilarity struck me moments later, because not only did it work, meaning she finally shut up she apologized for her behavior and fell asleep moments later.

The silence got me thinking about all of the times my brother and I got the roadside butt beating.  It was deserved each and every time, yet I hardly ever see cars on the side of the road with kids being yanked out my their shirt collar for a good, old fashioned lesson in life.  Why is that?

Perhaps if we did a little more pulling over, and a little less awarding everyone for participation, we would not need government bail-outs and a socialist society.  So, I am making a pact:  The first presidential nominee to threaten to pull this country and spank our butts, gets my vote.  I know it’s only one little vote, but it’s what I’ve got, and thanks to my mom and her ability to not even pull over when it was butt whoopin’ time, I will use it and accept what happens after that.

Daddy and I talked a little about it when Monkey went to bed, and since swim hasn’t been going well, we decided it might be a good time to look into it.  I looked a little online, and found the prices more reasonable than what we were looking at for her next set of swim lessons, so I decided to keep it in mind as an option.

As we were getting ready for school the next day Monkey let me know that she wanted to wear ballerina “prinpress shoes and a pink dress” to school.  I convinced her the playground was no place for ballet shoes and her tennis shoes would be a better match for fun in the sun, and we were off.  On my way home I could not help but notice the huge NOW ENROLLING banner in the local dance shop.  I called the number listed and left a message, and decided to look on the website when I got home.  I was disappointed to find the only new 3 year old class is on Mondays at 11am - during Monkey’s preschool time.

I picked her up after preschool yesterday and tried to build excitement about her first dentist appointment that was scheduled for later in the afternoon by telling her the dentist was going to clean her teeth so they would be sparkly like a princess.  I told her Prince Daddy was going to meet us at the office and she could show him how beautiful her teeth were. She was very excited.

She let the dentist count her teeth and after about two teeth were polished princess perfect, she was decided prince or no prince, she was done.  The wicked step-mother in me revealed a shiny apple (a prize out of the prize drawer) and two more were able to be cleaned.  However, it was not long before the princess was no longer deceived.  We left with our four polished teeth and an appointment to try again in six months.  Oh - and we found out the makings of a cavity are nestled in a tooth, far, far away.

We all came home after swim lessons, and it wasn’t long before sleeping beauty was in a slumber, not to be awoken until morning.

After a tiring doctors appointment this morning, I looked at Monkey in my rear view mirror and thought about the recent conflicts we have faced regarding her behavior at home, at school, and at swim.  It has been a struggle for all of us.  But, as I looked at her patiently waiting to be let out of her seat I realized no matter how frustrated I get with her, God created her for our family.

Her heart is caring and kind.  She is silly and fun.  She makes me laugh, and I miss her when she’s not with me.  She can be a handful and helpful in the same moment.  And even though there are some days when I do nothing but spankings and time outs, when I look at her big blue eyes, my heart is filled with excitement for the fairy tales to come. The fact is, even though she doesn’t know, in my heart, she is already my sparkly prinpress.

Monkey started swim lessons last week, and I have to say I think this class is a repeater.  She likes it, and has fun, but won’t do a few key things they would like her to do - like put her face in the water.  I don’t really understand that, because in the bathtub she will go completely under, but I suppose she’s just being a crazy kid.  Then, last night, she would not jump in the water.  She’d done it before in class - even in that class, but for some reason she refused.

After lessons, I was pretty upset because I assumed her regression is related to the lack of time I have spent working with her.  We don’t swim as often as I would like, and lately it’s been not at all.

Honestly, I think the whole family has changed since this bed rest mayhem started.  Daddy has been so busy just trying to keep up, and I am cranky because there is so much to do and no energy to do it with.  Monkey has been feeling it too.  To me, the swim lessons are telling.  She also has had a few potty accidents, and well… just seems bored and starved for attention.

Come to think of it, the only family member who has not shown any signs of suffering is Stinky Magoo.  He still licks his bowl dry and looks pathetic as he begs for more.  He still barks for no reason and occasionally poops or pees on himself just to remind us he can do whatever he wants.  He still humps his bed for hours on end, and he still snores loud enough to wake me up - even when he’s downstairs in his kennel.  Good old, reliable Stinky Magoo.

This whole time I thought his silly behavior and questioning looks were because he couldn’t connect two brain cells together to form a complete thought.  I believed his lack of training was because all he could think about was food and because he had the attention span of a fly.

Speaking of flies, the other day we had one in the house and our dog is so slow that he couldn’t even come close to catching it.  The fly playfully landed on Stinky Magoo’s nose several times and by the time Stinky Magoo would snap his jaws together, the fly was already tickling his hind quarters, laughing a very sinister laugh. (Okay, maybe that was me laughing)

Regardless, this whole time I thought Stinky Magoo had a lot to learn.  His carefree attitude and unconditional puppy love has shown me perhaps he’s not so dumb after all. Perhaps he’s the wisest one in the family.

But, he is still stinky.

While I came home excited about my new found freedom, I started thinking about a 9/11 video Daddy and I were watching on the History Channel last night.  It was a series of home videos, which showed in detail the attacks on the twin towers and the reaction of the general public to those attacks.  Even seven years later, I remember that day as though it happened yesterday.

We woke up to the phone ringing.  It was Monga, telling us to turn on the television - our country was under attack.  We sat stunned for the next few hours, watching it over and over again.  Our offices were closed for the day, so we decided to do something positive.  We adopted our cat, Marilyn from the Colorado Humane Society.  We came home and remained glued to the television for the next 48-hours.

Even now, when an airplane flys overhead and seems exceptionally loud or low, a part of me looks towards Monkey and says a quick prayer.  That fear is something that I have never known before.

With the presidential election in full swing, I can’t help but feel people have forgotten that feeling.  The helpless feeling we all shared, and the need to do something in reaction to the attack.  When the war first started, there were not many people against it.  The ones that were against the war felt there could be a peaceful resolution, but no one felt that a resolution was out of order.

What changed?  War is hard.  The economy is bad right now.  But, does that mean we should have taken our lumps and not done anything?  I can’t help but feel by pulling out without resolution, lives have been lost in vain.  As a mommy, I can’t imagine losing a son or daughter to a war that we as a country ‘changed our minds’ on.  I feel that once lives are in this battle, we owe it to those families to see things through.  Not because we have to win - because there are not winners on either side - but because we decided to get involved.  What kind of lesson are we teaching our children if we get involved, then back out because things got tough.

As far as people saying they will move out of our country if so-and-so is elected.  I say don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.  If you are willing to give up your freedom because you didn’t get your way, then your moving means one less person I need to shelter my children from.

I am sure this rant will upset a lot of readers, and I am sure some people will call me callous and rude.  But, it won’t be the first time, nor the last.  I read a lot of blogs (especially since I have been on bed rest!) and my choice is not to comment on your blog because I know I can’t be respectful and impartial when I read about your ‘pending move’ or your ‘contemplation of suicide’ over the upcoming election outcome.  Keep in mind when writing these things, you have that choice. That’s one of the great things about living in America.  That’s what our soldiers are over there trying to protect.  Freedom.

Keep in mind, I am not a super-crafty person.  I can picture how I want them to look in my head, but my hands just don’t have the talent.  The perfectionist in me goes crazy when the projects aren’t just ’so’.

Yesterday, since I have nothing but time on my hands, I really spent a lot of time folding the paper perfectly, measuring everything out, and attaching each item in the exact way I imagined.  Most of them turned out pretty good.  Some of them leave some talent to be desired, but that’s what gives them the ‘hand crafted’ look, right?

While my hands were furiously working, my mind was wondering.  I started thinking about how things are rarely homemade any more.  When I first started staying home, I really tried to make all of our dinners and desserts completely homemade.  I kneaded bread, made homemade salad dressings, and even thought about putting in a garden.  Then I got real.

Although I may never be Better Crocker, or Susie Homemaker, I still love and appreciate the time some of those things take.

For example, my sister-in-law, husbands grandmother (whew - that’s confusing) makes beautiful quilts.  When I was at Sandy’s house the other day we were talking about the quilts because there are so many around her house.  Sandy shared with me that she was going to ask her grandmother to make one for Caterpillar, just as she did for Monkey.  I told Sandy if she would be kind enough to make one for our living room, I would gladly pay for it.  Sandy then explained that her grandmother (in-law) just gives them to people, because she loves knowing that someone appreciates the craft.

I get that.  We have two quilts in our living room now.  One we call the ‘black blankie’ and one has no name.  The black blankie was named by Monkey, when she used to confuse black and white.  There is no black on the black blankie.  This blanket has been washed over and over and gets softer over time.  It is everyones favorite blanket, and is reluctantly given up to Monkey - who asks for it by name.

The other blanket looks like black blankie, but isn’t the quality.  It’s itchy, and with every wash it becomes more faded, and thinner.  I have felt like the no-name blanket lately.  I have been put through the wringer, and I am scratchy.  I am fading out, and have no choice but to let others set me aside.

The more I thought about this, the more I realize that I am also hand crafted.  God created me, in his perfect timing and I am exactly how He wants me to be.  And just like a hand crafted quilt, some people may not appreciate the craft, but the maker takes joy in the creation.

Hmmm.  All this from a couple of scrapbooking supplies.  Man, I need to get out of the house.

I made a concious decision to not let the news waiver my focus on God.  I knew there was nothing we could do about it, and that worrying would only make matters worse.  Daddy wasn’t as convinced, but he made an effort to humor me.  We were almost home when I decided we needed to get out.  I told Daddy I wanted to go to dinner.  Neither one of us really felt like eating, but an appetizer somewhere would be fun.  We turned around and went to a local brewery for some nachos.  We were on a mission for real nachos.  Messy, piled high nachos.  Not the perfect triangles covered in a measured amount of cheese, but the real deal.

We ordered our drinks and while we were waiting, Daddy got a call from work that he had to take care of.  We had to leave so Daddy could get home to his computer and resolve the issue.  We hurriedly left, and I was bummed to go home.  I felt as soon as we walked in the door, we would wallow in the bad news and ruin the whole night.  Monkey was staying at Monga and Papas, which is always hard on us because the house seems empty, and too quiet. I was just not interested in going home.  But, we had no choice, so home we went.

Daddy spent about ten minutes on his work and said he was ready to go.  We left again and I convinced him to make the drive to Babies R Us, because if this situation does continue down the path it’s on, we need a carseat.  We went to Lodos and found our messy, piled on nachos and headed over to Babies R Us.  After a lot of advice from someone who works there and a lot of playing on our part, we decided to go with the Chicco Travel System.

We came home late and I was tired.  We watched the end of Sarah Palins speech and headed up to bed.  I made the decision that every time a negative thought entered my head, I would pray that God would help keep those thoughts at bay.  I prayed He would help me to focus on the fact that we don’t know a whole lot for sure yet, and with God, anything is possible.

I continued this thinking through Thursday and after a sleepless night Thursday night, we went for our check up on Friday.

One of the nurses came in as I was getting ready for the ultrasound and explained to the tech we have had lost urine samples, canceled appointments and complete chaos, so she wanted a full work up so they could give us some definite answers.  That’s a good start, especially considering it wasn’t Dr. Bowties nurse - just another nurse in the office who took the time to care.

The ultrasound tech first measured Caterpillars head and told us it is measuring average.  I almost cried.  Two days ago we were told his noggin was about three weeks behind.  Next she measured his abdomen.  This was the measurement that scared me.  We were told he was about five weeks behind on this measurement.  Turns out, he again, is measuring average.  She measured his arms, legs, heartbeat, my placenta and the fluid output.  She looked at the ambilical cord and confirmed it is still a little boy.  We looked at his very full bladder and tried to catch him emptying it, but he wasn’t budging.

Everything came back perfect.

We next had an appointment with Dr. Bowtie and found out my blood pressure is back down.  The protein is completely gone from my urine.  Not even trace amounts are left.  I have lost two pounds in water retention and all of my swelling is completely gone.  Dr. Bowtie explained that we will likely still deliver early, and the bed rest likely delayed continued problems and bought us more time.  His best guess was anywhere from three to seven weeks from now.

I know I have a lot of readers, both male and female, who do not believe in God.  My question for all of you, is how do you explain things like this?  Science can’t explain it, and neither could Dr. Bowtie - even with his Harvard medical degree.  His years of experience did nothing to help lead him towards an explanation.

I, of course, believe this miracle was provided by God because of my concious effort to go to Him.  I ran to Him, even when my first reaction was to wallow in self pity and sadness.  I didn’t change anything I did physically - I was on bed rest and still am.  But I forced a reconnection through prayer, worship and study.  And a modern day miracle happened.

Apparently, I needed a little more than Monkey.  I had canceled Monkey’s play date for the day, so she was stuck with boring ol’ mom.  I have to say, she did really well.  She was very loving all day, and vegged out with me and watched movies and even joined me in the bath after a little while.

Since we were doing so well, and poor Daddy has been trying to balance EVERYTHING, I called him and told him he could stay late at work and get caught up, if it would help him relax once he got home.  He agreed and although Monkey was ready for Daddy’s arrival, she was very good about the change in plans.

Then, my sister-in-law Sandy called and told me she was on her way over to pick up Monkey for a girls night out.  She would be at my house in a half hour, and would dress and feed Monkey if I hadn’t done so.  Again, my heart was melted by the gift she was providing.  She had worked a full day, but yet some how she made the time and effort to care for us, and our needs.  After I hung up the phone, and I was dressing Monkey, I told her of Sandy’s plans and Monkey was jumping up and down, just ecstatic. Obviously, she had been humoring mom all day, but in her heart she was yearning to get out and go!

The greatest thing about this journey, is the reconnection we have felt.  Monkey has had the opportunity to spend time with family, and has loved every minute of it.  She adores them, and they love her, but our lives became so busy that those relationships were somewhat neglected.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that is out of the ordinary, or anyone’s fault, but through all of this I have realized how important it is to refocus on what’s really important.

Monkey and her Aunt Sandy have always had a special bond.  First of all, they look almost exactly alike.  They both have thick dark hair, and china-doll skin. They are the only ones in the family to have that combination. I have always thought Aunt Sandy was the most beautiful person in the family.  But it goes way beyond looks.  Aunt Sandy has a way of providing a comfort to Monkey like no one else.

I specifically remember on Monkey’s first birthday, Monkey was teething, and just miserable.  The party went on, but all Monkey wanted to do was melt with Aunt Sandy.  I love this picture, because Monkey is just a blob in Aunt Sandys arms. So relaxed.  So at peace.  So connected.

Often, when I think about Sandy, this is how I think of her.  So warm and calming.  Her kindness wraps around you like her arms are wrapped around Monkey.  Completely natural and genuine.  Sometimes shy and understated, but never unnoticed.  A quiet, but powerful influence. I can’t wait until she has kids of her own because there are so many children who will never experience something like Aunt Sandy has to offer.

When she brought her back, Monkey had crashed out for the night.  She had worn her down and Monkey slept peacefully until this morning. Monkeys heart and body had what it needed to rest, which allowed Travis and I to do the same.

Not only have I been trying to find medical answers, but I have also been trying to figure out a way to do it all - from bed.  I had not come up with a solution yet, but I felt like this was a problem I could solve.

Monga and Papa came over to spend some time with Monkey, and Papa was going to help Daddy work on painting the wainscoting that Daddy installed in Caterpillars room.  They obviously know I am on bed rest, so I assumed Monga would be spending time on the couch, relaxing with me.  Boy was I wrong.  In a true labor of love, she cleaned my house.  She scrubbed my floors, did laundry, and spent time with Monkey.

She did all of the things that I normally do, when I couldn’t.  And the crazy part is, I had no choice but to let her.  At first, I was unsure how to receive this.  I mean, it is a little embarrassing to have my mother-in-law folding my grandma panties, but over the last couple of days I have learned to just let go.

While Papa and Daddy were upstairs, they not only did all the prep work for the wainscoting, but they also moved two large pieces of furniture down the stairs - a task Daddy has been trying to find help with for a while.  This may not seem like a big deal to most, but I know it wasn’t easy.  Not because Papa is frail by any means, but an activity like that certainly will get his heart pumping.

In the last nine hours, Monga and Papa provided us a clean house and helped Daddy check off some much needed ‘to-do’ list items.  But, in all of their hustle and bustle, they provided me with a lesson:

When I make myself let go, and humble myself to God,  I make room for Him to come in and provide what I had been struggling to get for myself all along.

One of my favorite people is my sister-in-law Sarah.  She just recently moved out on her own, and started school.  She has been adjusting to life with a roommate and dating, and all of the things an 18 year old should be doing.

She and I had a chance to sit down and talk a few days ago, and we were talking about some of the relationships she’s in, and how it is hard for her to understand the drama that often comes with having friends.  She joked that one person in particular could stub her toe, and she’d think her life was over.  We had a good laugh and didn’t think much more about it.

Since Sarah didn’t have school due to the DNC, she has been blessing us by spending a lot of time with Monkey.  Monkey loves spending time with all of her aunts, because honestly they spoil the heck out of her.  On Friday, Sarah and her boyfriend decided to come by and take Monkey to the zoo.  I hadn’t told Monkey what the plan was, but told her Aunt Sarah was coming over, so she was in a great mood. She got ready, and when the doorbell rang around 9:30 she couldn’t have been more excited.

I was also looking forward to the time, because I was going to surprise Daddy and do some housework.  I know, I know, it’s against the whole bed rest thing, but I thought I could do it at a very slow pace and take breaks when I needed, so things would be fine.  Plus, I am sick of looking at the mess.

I jumped up to answer the door, and I slammed my foot into the chest in our livingroom that we use as a coffee table.  I limped to the door and explained to a very puzzled Sarah that I had stubbed my toe and my life was over.  We laughed at the recycled joke and after a few minutes they were on their way to the zoo.

I decided to rest a little before starting my day, and part of that included a bubble bath and a book.  I was enjoying the relaxation of our roman tub that I don’t use near enough, when the phone rang.  I answered the phone, and as I did, my feet came out of the water and a huge black and blue toe was revealed!

I cannot believe it, but I must admit, while I was on bed rest, I broke my toe.  And just for the record, I can see why Sarah’s friend would think her life is over after stubbing her toe - It freaking hurts!  And who knew that a fairly insignificant looking toe (the one next to the pinky) could be so useful… I mean, it’s as though every time the little sausage moves it is trying to remind me that it too has an important job in my balance, walking and overall life.

I guess there are a couple of things I pull away from this experience:

All parts of the body are important.  Much like friends and family. They may be little and seem insignificant, but don’t mess with them or they will show you why they are there, and what it feels like for them to be gone.

Secondly, when prescribed bed rest, take it.  Or God will make sure that you do.  One way, or another.

I decided to wait and see (my favorite health care method) and I fell asleep.  This morning everything was fine.  So, turns out I made the right call by not freaking out, but I will make sure when I go for my appointment next week.

Since I first thought it was lightning when it happened, it made me think of all of the storms we’ve been having in our area.  It’s been total turmoil outside, including tornadoes that touched down within 20 miles of here, monsoon rains and dry lightning storms.  As I look out the window, wondering what the weather will bring today, I realized that the weather is stormy on the outside, but the house is peaceful.  Much like our journey right now.

We have been scared about the unknown, and scared about what comes next.  It’s as though we are sitting around waiting for the lightning to strike.  But, even so, we are comfortable.  Daddy has been so patient and understanding and Monkey has been the daily humor I have needed.

God has provided our shelter, and He has given us the strength to huddle together, and wait for the storm to pass.