Yesterday the Olympic flame was extinguished, and for some reason the closing ceremonies always make me a little sad. Maybe it's the idea that all those hopes and dreams are over. All the escalating excitement has reached its zenith and is now on its quick descent. The stories of glory have been told. The "Flying Tomato" Shawn White took the gold, as did the previously controversial Apollo Anton Ohno. The disappointments have been experienced. No gold for Sasha Cohen. No medal at all for Bode Miller. Not even a competition for Michelle Kwan. And when all the judging is over and the times tabulated, USA came in second in the medal race.
So it's over - at least until 2008 when our sites are set on Beijing. Look out, China. Here we come!
Monday, February 27, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends
I got sick. Not my typical "sniffle, sniffle, cough" sick, but "I think I should make sure my will is done" sick. It started creeping up on Saturday evening and by Sunday afternoon I was wasted. Fever over 102, chills, nausea, sore throat, and the kind of headache that had me thinking, "Maybe if I drilled a hole in my skull, it would relieve the pressure and I'd feel better."
If it weren't for some awesome friends swooping in and caring for me, I don't know what I would have done. Aunt Sassy, as we like to call one friend in particular, dropped by and picked up Jadyn so that I could rest Sunday afternoon. Paul, who had already worked 6 days straight, had some news event to cover. We could pick her up at small group that night. Sounded great to me, except that when Paul came home to get me and take me to small group, I was so dizzy that making it to the bathroom seemed like trying to walk a straight line on a moving tilt-a-whirl machine. So I elected to stay home while Paul went to group.
A few hours later, it got worse. I couldn't figure out who had hold of the vice grip that was obviously invisibly crushing my brain. When I couldn't get Paul on his cell, I called Aunt Sassy. Apparently I sounded like I was on the brink of death because she made the executive decision to get me some medication, come pack a bag for Jadyn and keep her for the night. I was in no condition to care for myself, let alone my 5 month old. Paul was going to have his hands full dealing with me and my imploding head, so off Jadyn went on her first night without Mommy. I didn't even get to say good night, but that wouldn't dawn on me till I could think again.
On Monday Aunt Sassy came and drove me to the doctor (I could not be trusted with machinery with moving parts) while Jadyn's pseudo-adoptive Aunt Amy kept Jadyn. After the doctor took one look at my temperature, she pronounced me sick and gave me several prescriptions that even now continue to do scary stuff to my sense of balance. Aunt Sassy kept Jadyn the rest of the day while Paul worked. Good thing, too. I didn't puke so much when I was pregnant as I did that afternoon. But by Monday night my temp had dropped and it seemed I was on the mend.
Yeah, right.
Tuesday morning the thermometer still said 102.2 so Paul stayed home to parent while I stayed in bed. He even lined up a friend to watch Jadyn for that evening so he could cover a night meeting without leaving me to spread my germiness all over her. Just when I thought the magnanimous nature of my friends had reached its zenith, Aunt Amy's daughters walk in bearing dinner for us. Had I not been working very hard to keep from coughing on them, I would have burst into tears.
At our church (Hope Community Church) we have a saying: "Hope happens in small groups." And that's how I got to be friends with these folks - from small group. It has been wonderful to experience the love and support of people who have quickly become family to us.
So thanks, you guys. I couldn't have made it through this without you!
Oh, and by the way, so far, Jadyn seems to have dodged the sick bullet. Thank God! I'd rather be sick for a week than have her sick for just one day!
If it weren't for some awesome friends swooping in and caring for me, I don't know what I would have done. Aunt Sassy, as we like to call one friend in particular, dropped by and picked up Jadyn so that I could rest Sunday afternoon. Paul, who had already worked 6 days straight, had some news event to cover. We could pick her up at small group that night. Sounded great to me, except that when Paul came home to get me and take me to small group, I was so dizzy that making it to the bathroom seemed like trying to walk a straight line on a moving tilt-a-whirl machine. So I elected to stay home while Paul went to group.
A few hours later, it got worse. I couldn't figure out who had hold of the vice grip that was obviously invisibly crushing my brain. When I couldn't get Paul on his cell, I called Aunt Sassy. Apparently I sounded like I was on the brink of death because she made the executive decision to get me some medication, come pack a bag for Jadyn and keep her for the night. I was in no condition to care for myself, let alone my 5 month old. Paul was going to have his hands full dealing with me and my imploding head, so off Jadyn went on her first night without Mommy. I didn't even get to say good night, but that wouldn't dawn on me till I could think again.
On Monday Aunt Sassy came and drove me to the doctor (I could not be trusted with machinery with moving parts) while Jadyn's pseudo-adoptive Aunt Amy kept Jadyn. After the doctor took one look at my temperature, she pronounced me sick and gave me several prescriptions that even now continue to do scary stuff to my sense of balance. Aunt Sassy kept Jadyn the rest of the day while Paul worked. Good thing, too. I didn't puke so much when I was pregnant as I did that afternoon. But by Monday night my temp had dropped and it seemed I was on the mend.
Yeah, right.
Tuesday morning the thermometer still said 102.2 so Paul stayed home to parent while I stayed in bed. He even lined up a friend to watch Jadyn for that evening so he could cover a night meeting without leaving me to spread my germiness all over her. Just when I thought the magnanimous nature of my friends had reached its zenith, Aunt Amy's daughters walk in bearing dinner for us. Had I not been working very hard to keep from coughing on them, I would have burst into tears.
At our church (Hope Community Church) we have a saying: "Hope happens in small groups." And that's how I got to be friends with these folks - from small group. It has been wonderful to experience the love and support of people who have quickly become family to us.
So thanks, you guys. I couldn't have made it through this without you!
Oh, and by the way, so far, Jadyn seems to have dodged the sick bullet. Thank God! I'd rather be sick for a week than have her sick for just one day!
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Can't Help Lovin' That Man Of Mine
Why? Let me count the ways...
- He sees our marriage as a partnership and treats it as such.
- He makes me laugh, and he laughs at my jokes.
- He's still with me despite my bouts of moodiness, nagging and complaints.
- He's totally devoted to our dear sweet daughter.
- He's the one God made for me.
I love you, Paul. Tag, you're still it!
Monday, February 13, 2006
Confessions of a Bad Blogger
Yes, I know it's been over a week since I last posted. I'm a bad blogger. Shame on me. I don't pay attention to things that happen in my life that would make good posts. I don't sacrifice sleep time to post. I do my paying work instead of posting. I don't let my baby cry so I can post. I use nap times for silly things like laundry and washing bottles when I could be posting. Every now and then I get a sitter, but I don't use this time to post - I actually go out with my husband.
How dare I? And I call myself a blogger?! My password should be revoked!
How dare I? And I call myself a blogger?! My password should be revoked!
Saturday, February 04, 2006
And now, for something completely crazy
Going to Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon is an exercise in insanity. I tend to return from such trips in a total mental fog from the sheer ridiculousness of the experience.
Apparently there are great masses of folks out there who care deeply for one another but only get together at the ends of store aisles, where overheard greetings rival Hallmark sentiments. "Whatchoo bin doin'?" "Hey girl, you at the sto'? "Heyhawyoo?" (Yes, that last one is all one word."
Another startling realization - I seem to become invisible upon entering the building. This must explain why I can never get past these touching family reunions. It also could be the reason why folks pull their carts out in front of me as if they just got the green light at a NASCAR track.
My daughter, on the other hand, must have a spotlight shining on her because there is no end to the line of people who will remark at her cuteness. This does not bother me. Their proximity to my daughter while making such comments, however, causes me great consternation. Please, people, you're germy and she, for the moment, is not. Yes, I know her cuteness has it's own gravitational field, but please resist the temptation to fall in and touch her fingers!
I'm getting the idea that shopping with children who can walk and/or talk makes a parent want to swear at said children. The smaller the difference between the age of the parent and the child, the louder and more obnoxious the swearing becomes. This increases exponentially with more than one child.
And you know you've been to Wal-Mart too much when you recognize employees of the store who are out of uniform and doing their own shopping. I fully expected to be greeted by a sweet little man who was buying himself some lunch meat.
I need help.
Apparently there are great masses of folks out there who care deeply for one another but only get together at the ends of store aisles, where overheard greetings rival Hallmark sentiments. "Whatchoo bin doin'?" "Hey girl, you at the sto'? "Heyhawyoo?" (Yes, that last one is all one word."
Another startling realization - I seem to become invisible upon entering the building. This must explain why I can never get past these touching family reunions. It also could be the reason why folks pull their carts out in front of me as if they just got the green light at a NASCAR track.
My daughter, on the other hand, must have a spotlight shining on her because there is no end to the line of people who will remark at her cuteness. This does not bother me. Their proximity to my daughter while making such comments, however, causes me great consternation. Please, people, you're germy and she, for the moment, is not. Yes, I know her cuteness has it's own gravitational field, but please resist the temptation to fall in and touch her fingers!
I'm getting the idea that shopping with children who can walk and/or talk makes a parent want to swear at said children. The smaller the difference between the age of the parent and the child, the louder and more obnoxious the swearing becomes. This increases exponentially with more than one child.
And you know you've been to Wal-Mart too much when you recognize employees of the store who are out of uniform and doing their own shopping. I fully expected to be greeted by a sweet little man who was buying himself some lunch meat.
I need help.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
