Change of Plans

Just to be clear, I do not have the swine flu. My hatred was fueled by the fact that its very existence led to the complete CANCELLATION of our cruise. In Carnival's efforts to rearrange schedules and itineraries to avoid Mexico, they had to cancel 2 cruises, and we were unlucky enough to be on one of them. They did give us a refund. Though, needless to say we were all very disappointed.

I could not even type the words "canceled" and "cruise" in the same sentence until we had completely figured out something to do instead, because we are going on vacation next weekend. And we are going to have fun. No stupid flu is gonna stop us! Hopefully.

So having less than one week to plan a vacation for 4 is kind of exciting, but also pretty difficult. But after discussions and searches, we have reserved ourselves a condo on the beach on South Padre Island off the coast of Texas.


And it's not a cruise, but it will still be fun!

Hate Mail

Dear Swine Flu,
I hate your stinkin' guts. You make me vomit. You're the scum between my toes.

Love,
Elise

And I'd like to thank...

I have come such a long way. So far in fact, only my mother and closest sister may have a full appreciation for the ground that has been covered. Actually, most of my siblings can probably understand, because we all started at about the same spot.

My first hazy memories begin around the age of 5. I don't remember much except, many hands holding me forcefully in a reclined position, and doing my best to flail but not finding success. And then I remember asking my mom when I would have to receive another shot and she assured me, "not til you're 12".

My name is Elise and I am needlephobic.

I can also remember the purple paisley carpet in the doctor's office and the way I wanted to vomit out of fear when I had to have a single stitch on my lip. Our new puppy had been under the kitchen table fighting with the cat. In my attempt to play the mediator, Dolly bit all the way through my top lip.

I ran screaming through the house with blood pouring from my mouth, trailing on the carpet, as I looked for my mom.

My name is Elise and I am bloodphobic.

So it is almost unnecessary to explain that all further similar medical situations in my life were always much more exciting than requisite. And let the record show that neither my mother (a registered nurse once upon a time) or my father ever had the propensity to freak out over blood or needles. Yet again and again, their genes powerfully combined to produce offspring with serious medical fears. Most of us, at one time or another, fell under one of two categories: freaker or fainter, or occasionally a combination of both: a freaking fainter.

On one of our banner episodes, my sister Leah and I combined forces for a double visit to the doctor for routine physicals. Our family doctor, was an older gentleman, a long time family friend and member of our ward. His wife ran his small office and also acted as a medical assistant. And our families went back probably 50 years in the Lexington area.

And on said day, it became apparent that both Leah and I needed a shot. And let me just summarize by saying that by the end of the appointment both he and his wife had been kicked (twice) and I think Leah even passed out. And the next Sunday, Brother Butler was not joking when he found our father and told him the next time we came for an appointment, he better be the one accompanying us, because our mother was not strong enough to restrain us.

I also feel it is necessary to explain to those who read this who are lucky enough to not be a freaker or fainter, that this goes beyond mind's reason. When the fear kicks in, it is not something easily controlled. Flight or fight turns to your brain stem and leaves your gray matter out of a job. No amount of "calm down"s make it better. Just so you don't think I kicked an innocent old doctor and his wife because I just didn't want a shot.

I even passed out completely when I got my finger pricked in pre-op as an adult.

But like I said, I have come so far and I owe it mostly to Target.

When I was first pregnant with Ava I agreed to participate in a study, which required me to take a prenatal vitamin and an iron pill every day of the pregnancy. And in exchange for having my blood drawn 4 times along the way I would receive a (4) $25 gift cards to Target and then when I had the baby, I would get a $50 one. Sign me up.

And I attribute that frequent exposure to my fear combined with a promise of a desirable reward, with the progress that has been made.

Last Friday, I had my 12 week appointment. The doctor ordered routine blood work, and after a few minutes of deep breathing, I became the phlebotomist's most forgettable patient. And I had to pat myself on the back.

It's not fun to be a medical provider's worst nightmare or to know that you are going to be discussed over someone's dinner table that night.

I went home knowing that I had not freaked or fainted and that tonight I would not be the topic of conversation in someone else's home (at least in regards to being a terrible patient). And it felt good!

Thank you , Target.

Parent-Teacher-Ava

I am sick of feeling sick. That's all I have to say about that.

My grandmother had open heart surgery today. Things went well and she is recovering nicely. I think the anticipation of this has been been putting a damper on my already low attitude (a constant state of sickness can do that to a person, but I'm not talking about that, right?)

Our cruise is in exactly 2 weeks. Now that Mimi's surgery is over, perhaps I can start feeling excited about that again. I know I said I was done, but I really hope I feel better by then.

Know what else I am sick of? I am sick of my blog background's depressing colors. I can appreciate "Cutest Blog on the Block" and all, but I am a creature of habit, so I need something really simple and plain that I can live with for a while. I cannot change the background for each holiday or season. Honestly it will be really hard for me to even change to "Minima" because I really do not like change. But I need something happy and light. I will just have to get brave and I can always come back to this old look, right? Right! I have nothing to lose!

Now on to the real meat.



Ava has been in preschool 2 days a week for the past school year at a local Lutheran Church. She has such an awesome teacher and looks forward to going each Tuesday and Thursday. And through the months I have gotten the distinct impression that Ava really puts on her best face at school. Which is good, I'm not complaining about that, I just find it very interesting.

This week I had parent/teacher conference with Ms. Tamara, the sweetest, littlest, prettiest teacher. She and I sat across from each other on miniature chairs at a miniature table. She remarked that she liked the feeling of sitting at that table because it made her feel big, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I looked like an elephant on a tricycle.

She started by saying that this time of the year makes her so sad and that she might cry during our meeting. I told her not to worry because I am a crier. We then spent the next 15 minutes going point by point through Ava's 3 year old Evaluation.

My favorite standout from each area of development follow:

Spiritual development
Praises God with Song- Ms. Tamara said she is the loudest singer in chapel. She loves to sing!


Emotional development
Responds well to discipline and limits- Ms. Tamara said that she could not think of one time she has had to discipline Ava. That is wonderful to hear but also kind of bizarre.

Social development
Works and plays cooperatively with others- She spends time playing with the girls, and time with the boys, and has friends in the other 3 year old class too. She is a friend to everyone.


Intellectual development
Sings the alphabet song- Ms. Tamara asked her to sing it, Ava said, "no". Ms. Tamara asked her if she knew it, Ava said, "yes". Ms. Tamara asked her again, "then will you sing it?" and Ava said, "no thanks"

Motor Development
Hops on one foot- Ms. Tamara said that Ava tried her hardest, again and again, and could almost do it, but not quite. Ava kept asking, "Did I do it?! Did I do it?!" to which Tamara would respond, "really good try Ava!" and Ava would say, "Yeah, but did I do it?!" Ava has been practicing a lot at home, by her own accord, and can now proudly do one hop, on one foot.

And this is what was written at the bottom of the 2 page form:

I really enjoy Ava-She has such a wonderful personality! She is full of sunshine!! She always comes in with a smile and spreads them around! I will truly miss her next year!
Love,
Ms. Tamara

And Ava will truly miss Ms. Tamara next year.

Dan and I were discussing this evaluation and Ava in general the other night. We decided that this was a proud parent moment. Not proud that our child is wicked awesome and cooler and smarter and prettier than other kids, just proud that our child is turning into a real little person who is going out into the world and finding success and happiness. Proud that even though she has such a tender heart and over-reactive tendencies and temper, when she needs to tame her fire, she can, at least with people other than her parents.


I know I am extra hormonal at the moment, but I am overcome with feelings about her. And they are feelings that don't really have words I can type out on a keyboard. She requires the most out of me. For our time to be even remotely pleasant or successful together, I truly have to be in my best form, without exception. Unfortunately, that is impossible. But it forces me to always be looking in that direction. She refines me. And I like to think that I am helping to refine her. Together we are a little team of girls that share love and push each other to expand our boundaries of goodness. She is helping me be who I truly want to be. And I hope that I can even do a small portion of the same for her.

Sophie Sophie Bo Bophie

We have a cat named Sophie and although I'd sometimes like to forget (and really did once) Dan is careful to always remind me that "you cried for that cat!"

And I did, indeed, cry for her. When we lived in our basement apartment, the size of a postage stamp, as newlyweds, Dan took a job working from 1pm to 10pm, everyday. I was still in school and had class in the morning, so it pretty much made for certain that we didn't see each other much. It was not too fun of a time for me. Or for him either.

I got a wild idea that if I got a cat, it could keep me company, and be bright spot during a gray time.

I did my research and found that a local veterinarian's office had some kittens ready for adoption. I went to the office, petted them all, and picked Sophie.

Logic may have told a regular person to check with the landlord before researching, but that's not what it told me. So I asked our kind landlady if I could please, please, please get a kitten.

She said no.

Now what was I going to do? I had my heart set on Sophie. Days passing increased the likelihood of her being adopted by someone else.

I did what any over emotional animal lover would do.

I went back. I asked again. And I cried.

It worked. We got Sophie. And in many ways she was a bright spot for me. She became the focus of our attention. She remained a prominent fixture in our little life.


From the first night she came home with us, she climbed on top of me as I lay in the bed. She started to knead on me with her razor sharp claws and actually suck on the collar of my shirt. I guess she really thought I was her momma. But that seriously hurt. We finally managed to get her to agree that she could suck and knead on my shirt all she wanted, just not while I was wearing it. And it only took one slimy knead-and-suck session, for me to decide that blue T-shirt would not be worth sharing.

From then on, Sophie could be found at any point in the day but especially at night, snuggled on our bed, doing her thing with that shirt.

Then Ava came and life turned upside down for our cat. The first time we brought Ava home from the hospital,we set her down in her car seat in the middle of the living room. We were anxious to see how Sophie would receive her. Sophie walked slowly to her, sniffed her a moment, and then hissed. And that moment Sophie went from beloved, doted on pet, to second fiddle.

And she has never recovered. She hates the kids. She is mostly nocturnal. She hides or sleeps under our bed all day. We get little enjoyment from her. Dan cleans the litterbox and loathes it. And does it say anything that her blue T-shirt has long been lost?

Dan does not enjoy animals. Ever since I became pregnant with Ava and the litterbox became an off limits chore for me, Dan dutifully does the job. And it's usually around this time that I hear the reminder, "You cried for this cat!"

But while Dan doesn't like Sophie much these days, he argues that a cat is 100 times better than a dog because
a) they don't poop in our yard
b) we can leave them with a big bowl of food and water and leave them for days
c) that's about it

So, Dan's plan is that we will always have a cat. Then when our kids beg for a pet he can tell them, "we already have a cat", because to him that is the easiest alternative.



So, that is why I hear the phrase, "When Sophie dies..." all the time.

Ava is an animal lover, not unlike her mother, and has been promised by Dan that when Sophie dies she can get a kitten. She has no comprehension that that is probably 10 years away. But to her Sophie is "mean" and Ava dreams of a kitten that will love to be held and sleep on her bed.

So lately she has been so excited by the idea of this new kitten (who also, by the way, will be named Seraphina) that I hear things like,

"I can't wait til Sophie dies and I can get a new kitty!"



"When Sophie dies, can I really get a nice cat?!"



"When Sophie dies, I'm getting a new kitten!"

Poor Sophie.


Not long ago, Ava asked me, "Mom, when is Sophie gonna die?"

And I realized then that Ava is more a mixture of Dan and I than I had previously thought, a little bit animal lover and a little bit not.

Happy Easter!

This blog has become a sad and neglected space, right along with my house, and children, and basically my whole little life.

Let's just get it out there, shall we?

I'm pregnant.

It was a surprise to everyone involved.

In fact, I may or may not have had a conversation with Heavenly Father just a few months ago, trying to humbly explain that in regards to the child we had talked about about having next, things may just have to wait a bit longer because I was already feeling like I had more than I could handle with the two I've got. If I had been quiet enough, I might have heard a chuckle, because I was probably already pregnant when I uttered that prayer.

I have been battling feelings of guilt over all of my other sad and selfish feelings that have been dominating me. Even though I am excited there were still reservations revolving around things, that well, basically don't matter. But I still couldn't just give it up and accept that THEY REALLY DON"T MATTER.

This weekend though, brought us to Dallas for a quick visit and Easter celebration. I took about one picture from my station on the couch. The kids feasted on candy. And we all feasted on fantastic dinners a la Mom. It was the first real food any of us has had for weeks. And it was good. (ooh, except for a fantastic meal brought by my Val! Thank you!)

Food is my respite and my detriment. It's kind of like this, I feel sick 99% of each day. When I eat, I feel sick, and when I don't eat, I feel sicker. Awesome.

But anyway, this weekend I had a light bulb moment. I really want this baby. I already love this baby. And those things that have been occupying my mind, REALLY DON"T MATTER! I get it! I accept it!

I still really want to feel better because I am sick of being sick. My family is sick of me being sick. Dan is a bonafide Saint. And I mean that in seriousness. If a saint is a person of holiness, virtue, and benevolence, then he's your man. With each pregnancy he has become more empathetic, and loving. He is keeping us all above water right now and has been for weeks. I love him.

We go on our cruise in almost 3 weeks. I really want to enjoy it.

I sang in church on Sunday in a trio, apparently. I was so nervous, I don't know how it all happened. But I'm pretty sure we sang. Dan and the kids were about 3 minutes too late and missed it. Ava came in and sat down by me and said, "Mom, I can't wait to hear you sing!" I had to tell her I already did. Too bad.

I am now taking suggestions for a new blog title.

And I am will be 11 weeks tomorrow. We should have this baby by Thanksgiving for sure! (Nov.4th hopefully)

And finally, Ava is very excited about this new addition and there are 3 things she knows for sure. Any point to the contrary is totally unacceptable.

1. It is a girl.

2. It (she) will sleep in Ava's room so that if she cries in the night, Ava can give her a paci.

3. Her name will be Seraphina.

Midlife Crisis?

It's time for a new post I think! Now the question of what to post about...hmmm...Oh yes! I got it!

After a quick scan over the past month's small inventory of pictures I was reminded of this very important addition to our family.


Now this was all Dan's idea which both surprises and not-surprises me.

Spurred by a wicked deal in the Sunday paper, Dan talked and ruminated on the idea of buying a new TV. Not surprising.

For days, he mulled it over in word and thought. Not surprising.

One night he went by himself to walk around the electronics store, just to browse. Not surprising.

He even called me from the store a few times. Each time I told him the same thing, "I don't mind if you get a TV, I really don't."

Then he bought a new TV. Very Surprising.

You see our new TV was not in the Colton Purchase Plan until approximately Christmas 2012, maybe even Dan's Birthday 2013. Dan doesn't make frivolous purchases, well ever, really.


But we are now the proud owners of a huge, flat television. He earns the dough, it was a very good deal, and he has wanted one for a very long time. I don't know exactly what got into him, but as I assured him before, I really don't mind. And now we have a huge screen which accommodates Wii play more appropriately than our old TV would have. Yeah, cause he bought a Wii too. But that was with money from a spot bonus at work. Because 2 large electronic purchases from our own account, in 1 week may have caused me to question my husband's true identity.


We had to put it on top of an old dresser that is screaming for a makeover and maybe someday I will get to that. In fact I'm getting the itch to give my whole house a makeover. At least to paint.

Dan is a happy camper and that makes me a happy camper. He works hard for the money. And while money doesn't buy happiness it can buy a really nice way to watch TV.