Saturday, January 23, 2010

Red Letter Day

Miss A., after weeks of struggling, has managed to put her shoes on. The velcro is undone and the shoes are on the wrong feet, but she did it all by her little lonesome.

Of course, I had taken her shoes OFF in order to get her ready to take a nap... This one has a defiant streak a mile wide.

Ham soup for breakfast

It's Saturday morning in the Wheezer household. S. played a basketball game this morning. We signed L. up for tee-ball, and A. has gone happily about her way.

I missed breakfast thanks to being blessedly slow to get ready this morning. Now that the younger two girls and I are back home, I decided to get some breakfast. Mr. W. made some really delicious ham soup earlier this week, and it really hit the spot.

While I have been eating L. and A. have been amusing themselves with Liza, the cat. Both the girls and the cat seem to be enjoying themselves, and the running commentary from L. has been hilarious.

L.: Liza tripped A. (complete with the singsong tattletale tone).
Mrs. W.: Liza makes everybody trip.
L.: What about Nadya? (our other cat)
Mrs. W.: Eliza makes Nadya run away.
L.: Why?
Mrs. W.: She is shy.
L.: Why?
Mrs. W.: Why do you ask so many questions? It's just in her nature.
L.: Why?

While playing with a feathery, jingly cat toy.

L.: Here, A. shake it like this and then throw it.
A. shakes and throws. Liza ignores the toy.
L. picks up the toy, shakes and throws again, this time beaning the cat. Liza runs off.
L.: Mom, why did Liza run away?

After I spotted L. tracking Liza with a big blanket.

Mrs. W.: Don't you put that blanket on the cat.
L. putting down the blanket dejectedly: Okay, I won't.

L.: Look! Liza let A. pet her!

L.: Mom! Can I pick up Liza? She touched me, but she didn't scratch me!

L.: Mama! Mama! She's giving her a bath. (As Liza attempts to groom herself despite the 'help' of two little girls.)

Liza is the world's most tolerant cat. Or at least, she is in the top 10. In the nearly 8 years she has been subjected to children, she has not scratched, bit, yowled or hissed at any of my kids. She has had ample provocation, too.

Friday, January 22, 2010

The Hope Suit

At the beginning of my pregnancy with S., I had bleeding issues. Lots of bleeding issues. Bleeding issues that led my doctor to give me a hug and tell me he was so sorry I had to go through this with my first pregnancy. He told me anything could happen, but that this pregnancy did not look healthy. I should be warned that it was likely I would miscarry.

I was a mess. I cried, I prayed, I begged God to let me keep this baby.

And I continued to bleed.

Blood tests came back with hormone levels rising normally.
Ultrasound came back with a little heartbeat fluttering away.

And I continued to bleed. In fact, the bleeding became heavier.

Mr. W. found me in the shower sobbing one morning when I had passed a clot. He hugged me and insisted that I was still pregnant.

That was the day I went shopping. I needed a talisman, a solid object I could look at and take comfort in. I drove to WalMart hoping to find the perfect stuffed animal or baby blanket. Instead, I found a white Winnie the Pooh sleeper with green trim around the cuffs and little pictures of Pooh, Tigger and Piglet all over. It was a size 6 to 9 months.

I can remember holding it tight and trying not to cry in the middle of the store. When I got home, I hung the sleeper up in the middle of my closet. Every morning when I got dressed, I would stroke the little suit and say a little prayer of hope.

The bleeding continued. It lasted 30 miserable, emotional, crazy days. But I was still pregnant, and on April 17, 2002, I gave birth to a squalling, healthy baby girl weighing 10 lbs 3 oz and measuring 22.5 inches long.

I do not credit the Hope Suit, as I've come to call it, with giving me a healthy baby. However, I did come to understand how much a physical object can come to mean to a person.

PS: All three of my daughters have worn the Hope Suit at some point in their lives.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

A Poem in Three Lines

Dedicated to the idiot who drives the little red car I see zipping in and out through traffic more mornings than I can count:

It is after eight,
You are already late,
Please SLOW. DOWN.

Thank you.