The Christmas season is upon us...although I tend to prefer to wait until the day after Thanksgiving to fully embrace it. This year, I don't feel the luxury of putting off my preparations. With three kids under the age of four and the inability to find time to take care of the simple, every day aspects of life, such as going to the bathroom, the holiday season demands that I meet it head-on as early as humanly possible.
I typically begin my Christmas shopping in July. July 25th is unofficially "Christmas In July" at our house and kicks of my Christmas shopping season. I do this for a couple reasons. One, because, quite frankly, by the time July hits, those of us who live in Arizona, have been sweltering for well over 2 months and the hope that the holidays are coming helps to cheer me and offset the occasional urge to off myself as the temperature soars into the 120s. Secondly, from a budgeting stanpoint, it's a necessity. Christmas is definitely my favorite time of the year, but the need and desire to eat for the two months prior to it dictate that I begin shopping during the summer and take advantage of as many "deals" as possible.
That being said, I have nearly completed my Christmas shopping...for the kids, that is. Family shopping remains to be done and sends me into a psychological state I prefer not to discuss, at least until my Xanax prescription is refilled.
Truth be told, however, and we moms can attest to this...the shopping is really the easiest part of the show. Lugging the gifts home, wrapping them, storing them, cleaning the house, baking the goodies, running the errands, shipping the boxes, mailing the Christmas cards, attending countless events, buying and preparing the food, etc. etc. etc. are the things that send us into an emotional frenzy and suck the joy out of the season.
So, while it seams premature to me to begin my Christmas preparations so soon...my hope is that this year I will find some time to sit and enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells of the holidays like I once did.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Top Ten
This is what I like to call the "Top Ten List of Things I Suck At Since I Had a Third Child".
1. Answering the phone
2. Keeping up with laundry
3. Showering daily
4. Making meals that do not include bologna
5. Finishing a book in less than 6 months
6. Remembering to R.S.V.P to an event
7. Providing nurishment for myself in a timely manner
8. Making it through the day without an assortment of goo on my shirt sleeves
9. Getting out of the house during daylight hours
10. Maintaining my blog........
1. Answering the phone
2. Keeping up with laundry
3. Showering daily
4. Making meals that do not include bologna
5. Finishing a book in less than 6 months
6. Remembering to R.S.V.P to an event
7. Providing nurishment for myself in a timely manner
8. Making it through the day without an assortment of goo on my shirt sleeves
9. Getting out of the house during daylight hours
10. Maintaining my blog........
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thirteen Years- Part 1
While the number itself bares little significance, I was surprised to realize earlier in the week that today, August 28, is the day that Fernando and I met...thirteen years ago. It seems odd to me that I can remember events from my life, specifically my adulthood, that happened that long ago as I often feel as if I am still in my teens (despite what my body screams).
I remember the day vividly, it was hot and a bit muggy, as it always is in Phoenix this time of year (to us Phoenicians, 30% humidity is "muggy" and we can certainly feel it). It was my second day of classes at Southwestern College after transferring there as a junior. Only weeks earlier I had gone on a tirade about how much I did NOT want to go to school there. I believe my rant included something about "home school boys" and "Bible college losers", if I remember correctly. I'm certain my mother could recount most of the details if I asked, but seeing as it wasn't one of my finest moments, I think I'll just let it remain in the past.
I do remember one specific comment that was made- something to the effect that probably the only guy that would ever show any interest in me was most likely the only Mexican guy on campus. In the past I had always been favored by the Mexican gentlemen I came in contact with. Although, my experience with them was usually limited to cat calls and lewd comments made entirely in Spanish from soccer fields and/or the cabs of overly-crowded landscaping trucks. Having stated that opinion, just weeks before the start of classes, I vowed to attend class, keep to myself, and in doing so, not give a moments thought to any member of the opposite sex.
The first day of classes went very much as anticipated. I spent most of the day with a gal I had known since childhood, so relieved to have found a familiar face even if she was a Freshman. :)
She encouraged me to join the choir and reluctantly I agreed. The next day I sheepishly entered the choir rehearsal room. It seemed everyone already knew everyone else and I could not figure out how. I came to realize that many of them had spent the previous week in rehearsals as members of a smaller, traveling ensemble. Good for them. I vividly remember walking down a row to an empty seat when I looked up to see this young man entering the room. He had a smile on his face as people greeted him and I froze in my spot. He had a face that I recognized, though I was certain we had never met. I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was so strangely familiar. That's when I heard it. A voice, audible only in my head and certainly not my own, as I immediately began to argue with it as soon as it spoke. It said..."That's the man you're going to marry." And although I flatly denied that prospect, I knew it was true. I didn't know this person's name, or where he was from, but I knew I was going to marry him...whether I liked it or not. As a little girl, I always dreamed of what my future husband would be like and no matter what picture I conjured up in my mind, he never had a face. I now knew why this stranger looked so familiar...it was HIS face that I'd been waiting to see. And I liked it...a lot. Sappy? Maybe. But, definitely Divine and completely wonderful!
Now, I've heard many folks say that God has a sense of humor and it is truly undeniable. Although, I often feel that he's not laughing WITH me quite as much as he's laughing AT me. Picture this...college co-ed on her second day of class lays eyes on, quite literally, the man of her dreams. All she wants is to know something about him...anything. Imagine my excitement as our director began to take roll, calling out each name and awaiting a response. I realized this was my chance. I was going to find out the name of my future husband. I sat in eager anticipation, my heart pounding, my breath caught in my chest, waiting for his name to be called. And then the moment was upon me. Our director looked up, made eye contact with the stranger, sitting only two rows directly in front of me and said, "Fernando".
Slightly more muffled than the first voice in my head was the sound of laughter and the words I so vehemently expressed to my mother only weeks before played over and over in my head. There he was, the man I was going to marry with the face I'd been waiting for...and he was Mexican. I quickly scanned the room and every face on campus for the following week. It was just as I suspected. Not only was he Mexican...he was the ONLY Mexican on campus.
I remember the day vividly, it was hot and a bit muggy, as it always is in Phoenix this time of year (to us Phoenicians, 30% humidity is "muggy" and we can certainly feel it). It was my second day of classes at Southwestern College after transferring there as a junior. Only weeks earlier I had gone on a tirade about how much I did NOT want to go to school there. I believe my rant included something about "home school boys" and "Bible college losers", if I remember correctly. I'm certain my mother could recount most of the details if I asked, but seeing as it wasn't one of my finest moments, I think I'll just let it remain in the past.
I do remember one specific comment that was made- something to the effect that probably the only guy that would ever show any interest in me was most likely the only Mexican guy on campus. In the past I had always been favored by the Mexican gentlemen I came in contact with. Although, my experience with them was usually limited to cat calls and lewd comments made entirely in Spanish from soccer fields and/or the cabs of overly-crowded landscaping trucks. Having stated that opinion, just weeks before the start of classes, I vowed to attend class, keep to myself, and in doing so, not give a moments thought to any member of the opposite sex.
The first day of classes went very much as anticipated. I spent most of the day with a gal I had known since childhood, so relieved to have found a familiar face even if she was a Freshman. :)
She encouraged me to join the choir and reluctantly I agreed. The next day I sheepishly entered the choir rehearsal room. It seemed everyone already knew everyone else and I could not figure out how. I came to realize that many of them had spent the previous week in rehearsals as members of a smaller, traveling ensemble. Good for them. I vividly remember walking down a row to an empty seat when I looked up to see this young man entering the room. He had a smile on his face as people greeted him and I froze in my spot. He had a face that I recognized, though I was certain we had never met. I stared at him, trying to figure out why he was so strangely familiar. That's when I heard it. A voice, audible only in my head and certainly not my own, as I immediately began to argue with it as soon as it spoke. It said..."That's the man you're going to marry." And although I flatly denied that prospect, I knew it was true. I didn't know this person's name, or where he was from, but I knew I was going to marry him...whether I liked it or not. As a little girl, I always dreamed of what my future husband would be like and no matter what picture I conjured up in my mind, he never had a face. I now knew why this stranger looked so familiar...it was HIS face that I'd been waiting to see. And I liked it...a lot. Sappy? Maybe. But, definitely Divine and completely wonderful!
Now, I've heard many folks say that God has a sense of humor and it is truly undeniable. Although, I often feel that he's not laughing WITH me quite as much as he's laughing AT me. Picture this...college co-ed on her second day of class lays eyes on, quite literally, the man of her dreams. All she wants is to know something about him...anything. Imagine my excitement as our director began to take roll, calling out each name and awaiting a response. I realized this was my chance. I was going to find out the name of my future husband. I sat in eager anticipation, my heart pounding, my breath caught in my chest, waiting for his name to be called. And then the moment was upon me. Our director looked up, made eye contact with the stranger, sitting only two rows directly in front of me and said, "Fernando".
Slightly more muffled than the first voice in my head was the sound of laughter and the words I so vehemently expressed to my mother only weeks before played over and over in my head. There he was, the man I was going to marry with the face I'd been waiting for...and he was Mexican. I quickly scanned the room and every face on campus for the following week. It was just as I suspected. Not only was he Mexican...he was the ONLY Mexican on campus.
Sad, But True
I find it very sad that I can now only find time to blog once every month...I'm going to make a meager attempt to do some catch up today. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
1 Month Old!
Our munchkin is one month old today. What a sweet and brave little boy we have. Despite all that he's been through over the last four weeks, he is happy and growing strong.
Daniel just loves his baby brother and enjoys singing lullabies to him. He also reminds us constantly to be quiet so we don't wake Isaiah, even when he's not sleeping. Sofia is enamored with her baby "baba" as well and loves to try and grab his face. In the meantime, Isaiah is still looking at all of us with that newborn expression that says "who are you people and what is wrong with you?" A question he will likely verbalize in the coming years. But he loves to be snuggled and sung to and completes our family perfectly.
We are excited to see his little personality emerge over the coming months and to watch him change. 
Monday, July 27, 2009
Isaiah's Surgery
Unfortunately for all of us, Daniel's birthday didn't end quite the way we had anticipated. But it did kick off what was, by far, the most frightening 48 hours of our life.
For a few days beforehand, Isaiah was throwing up after practically every feeding. To call it "projectile" didn't quite do it justice, as I personally believe it rivaled Olympic shot put records. I mistakenly assumed he was still adjusting to his formula and perhaps we needed to find something a little more gentle on his tummy. However, Fernando insisted that I call the doctor's office and I'm so glad that he did!
I was expecting them to recommend a particular type of formula and tell me that it was nothing to worry about initially. So, imagine my surprise when I was told to take him immediately to the emergency room at Phoenix Children's Hospital. Fernando came directly home from work and we headed out, leaving Sofia, Daniel, and his birthday cake indefinitely.
When we arrived at the hospital we were taken to an exam room fairly quickly and informed by the doctor that he suspected Pyloric Stenosis , a condition fairly common to infants at this age. Dr. Pickett ordered an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis and an IV to get some fluids into our little boy who had missed his last feeding. But, because he had gotten so little food over the previous days, his veins were very flat and after four sticks, they were still unable to get an IV in.
The ultrasound confirmed the diagnosis and we were informed that surgery would be inevitable, meaning, not only were they going to operate on our 3 week old, but that feeding him before the next day was impossible. The IV team was called in to make a 5th and, hopefully, final attempt to get an IV in Isaiah's hand or foot. After two more unsuccessful sticks, it was determined that they would attempt to get the IV in his head. Even knowing how common that procedure is for infants, the sheer thought of it was more than I could handle. I couldn't watch and as I sat there knowing what was happening and listening helplessly to the screams of my sweet little boy, I broke down. Little did I know that it would happen countless times over the next 48 hours.
Much to our horror, that attempt failed as well. And we soon found ourselves alone with Isaiah, who was now 6 hours without food, awaiting admittance. Thankfully, he was exhausted from his ordeal and lack of food, so he slept most of the time we waited. We were SO relieved when we were told that our room was ready. We anticipated that we wouldn't sleep much as a result of the anxiety and emotion of the whole experience. But we had NO idea how right we were until we saw our room.
It must have been all over our faces as we walked into about a 15X15 square foot room that was occupied by another patient and his grandparents. Our "side" of the room was just big enough for the crib and one arm chair. At that point, we were feeling pretty hopeless. We are so thankful that God knows our hearts because as soon as the nurse left, the sweet grandma of the baby "next door" came over and asked if she could pray with us, not knowing our background or situation. It was exactly what we needed at that moment and in the moments to come.
It was imperative that Isaiah receive some fluids and we were taken to another room to make another attempt to get an IV in. I stepped outside to meet my brother and sister-in-law, who had brought us a suitcase of stuff to get us through the night and Daddy stayed upstairs with Isaiah. I returned to the room to find Fernando in tears. After eight desperate attempts, the IV team decided to put the IV into Isaiah's neck. We spent the remainder of the night crying and praying over our son.
It was clearly by the grace of God that Isaiah slept soundly through the night, waking very rarely and easily calmed by some sucrose and his pacifier. Fernando and I did our best to catch what little sleep we could (even if it meant sleeping in the car), but had little success. It was by far the longest night of our lives, which would only be followed by the longest day of our lives.
We were expecting surgery the following morning, but when the doctor came to see us, he informed us that it would be at some time between 1 and 4 pm. Isaiah continued to sleep a good portion of the day, but was so hungry that it was getting increasingly difficult to comfort him. Thus, we were both relieved and terrified when transport came to take him to the OR. We were so blessed that Isaiah was at Phoenix Children's Hospital and had the utmost confidence in the doctors and nurses who worked hard to put our minds at ease. But no matter how "simple" a procedure, there is nothing more terrifying than handing over your child (at any age, I imagine) to a surgeon and walking away.
We spent the majority of the time in the chapel waiting for surgery to end, praying and listening to old hymns play from an unknown source. And while there were no words playing, the lyrics resonated in our hears and minds-
For a few days beforehand, Isaiah was throwing up after practically every feeding. To call it "projectile" didn't quite do it justice, as I personally believe it rivaled Olympic shot put records. I mistakenly assumed he was still adjusting to his formula and perhaps we needed to find something a little more gentle on his tummy. However, Fernando insisted that I call the doctor's office and I'm so glad that he did!
I was expecting them to recommend a particular type of formula and tell me that it was nothing to worry about initially. So, imagine my surprise when I was told to take him immediately to the emergency room at Phoenix Children's Hospital. Fernando came directly home from work and we headed out, leaving Sofia, Daniel, and his birthday cake indefinitely.
When we arrived at the hospital we were taken to an exam room fairly quickly and informed by the doctor that he suspected Pyloric Stenosis , a condition fairly common to infants at this age. Dr. Pickett ordered an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis and an IV to get some fluids into our little boy who had missed his last feeding. But, because he had gotten so little food over the previous days, his veins were very flat and after four sticks, they were still unable to get an IV in.
The ultrasound confirmed the diagnosis and we were informed that surgery would be inevitable, meaning, not only were they going to operate on our 3 week old, but that feeding him before the next day was impossible. The IV team was called in to make a 5th and, hopefully, final attempt to get an IV in Isaiah's hand or foot. After two more unsuccessful sticks, it was determined that they would attempt to get the IV in his head. Even knowing how common that procedure is for infants, the sheer thought of it was more than I could handle. I couldn't watch and as I sat there knowing what was happening and listening helplessly to the screams of my sweet little boy, I broke down. Little did I know that it would happen countless times over the next 48 hours.
Much to our horror, that attempt failed as well. And we soon found ourselves alone with Isaiah, who was now 6 hours without food, awaiting admittance. Thankfully, he was exhausted from his ordeal and lack of food, so he slept most of the time we waited. We were SO relieved when we were told that our room was ready. We anticipated that we wouldn't sleep much as a result of the anxiety and emotion of the whole experience. But we had NO idea how right we were until we saw our room.
It must have been all over our faces as we walked into about a 15X15 square foot room that was occupied by another patient and his grandparents. Our "side" of the room was just big enough for the crib and one arm chair. At that point, we were feeling pretty hopeless. We are so thankful that God knows our hearts because as soon as the nurse left, the sweet grandma of the baby "next door" came over and asked if she could pray with us, not knowing our background or situation. It was exactly what we needed at that moment and in the moments to come.
It was imperative that Isaiah receive some fluids and we were taken to another room to make another attempt to get an IV in. I stepped outside to meet my brother and sister-in-law, who had brought us a suitcase of stuff to get us through the night and Daddy stayed upstairs with Isaiah. I returned to the room to find Fernando in tears. After eight desperate attempts, the IV team decided to put the IV into Isaiah's neck. We spent the remainder of the night crying and praying over our son.
It was clearly by the grace of God that Isaiah slept soundly through the night, waking very rarely and easily calmed by some sucrose and his pacifier. Fernando and I did our best to catch what little sleep we could (even if it meant sleeping in the car), but had little success. It was by far the longest night of our lives, which would only be followed by the longest day of our lives.
We were expecting surgery the following morning, but when the doctor came to see us, he informed us that it would be at some time between 1 and 4 pm. Isaiah continued to sleep a good portion of the day, but was so hungry that it was getting increasingly difficult to comfort him. Thus, we were both relieved and terrified when transport came to take him to the OR. We were so blessed that Isaiah was at Phoenix Children's Hospital and had the utmost confidence in the doctors and nurses who worked hard to put our minds at ease. But no matter how "simple" a procedure, there is nothing more terrifying than handing over your child (at any age, I imagine) to a surgeon and walking away.
We spent the majority of the time in the chapel waiting for surgery to end, praying and listening to old hymns play from an unknown source. And while there were no words playing, the lyrics resonated in our hears and minds-
"When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul"
What a relief and tremendous blessing when the doctor emerged from the operating room to inform us that everything went fine and Isaiah was waking up. And nothing felt better than being able to hold him again and try to feed him.
That night, Isaiah ate like a champ keeping down everything he was supposed to and then some. We were thrilled knowing we would get to go home the next day. Since then he has been such a little trooper. He never complains, although we know he must be uncomfortable from his surgery, and he is eating like he's making up for lost time!
We, on the other hand, are still emotionally and physically exhausted from the whole ordeal and are trying to recuperate, but it's a small price to pay to have a beautiful, healthy baby boy.
We are eternally grateful to our family for supporting us while we were at the hospital, by loving on Daniel and Sofia and sitting with us in the surgery waiting room, by praying with us and keeping us company. And we are blessed beyond measure to have the love and prayer support of countless friends and family members from coast to coast. Prayer works and it certainly made a difference to us and in the life of Isaiah over the past week. A huge thank you to our church family for your outpouring of love, for your prayers, words of encouragement, and for your visits. We were so blessed by you! We cannot thank enough the doctors and nurses at Phoenix Children's Hospital for taking impeccable care of our son. And more importantly, we are once again humbled and in awe of the greatness of our Heavenly Father who loves our family so much more than we could possibly know or understand.
Isaiah's first day home
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Happy Birthday Buddy!
It's hard to believe that four years ago today our life changed forever with the arrival of our baby boy. The time has flown by even with all that has transpired since. Daniel is an energetic, imaginative, and hilarious little boy. And while we do remember what life was like without him, we wouldn't trade the past four years for anything! We are truly blessed to be his parents and are so looking forward to watching him grow and witnessing all that is in store for him in the years to come.
This year we celebrated Daniel's birthday at Chuck E Cheese, along with our family and what felt like 250,000 of our closest friends. There aren't too many options for celebrating a birthday in Arizona in July that do not include severe dehydration, heat rash, and possible death. And for that reason, it appeared as if 1/2 the population of the Phoenix metropolitan area was at Chuck E Cheese that day. But, in true 4-year-old fashion, Daniel didn't notice the crowds- nor did he care. The day was all about him! Nothing screams "Happy Birthday" to a preschooler louder than balloons, gooey chocolate cake, presents, and a 6 ft tall talking mouse. It was the stuff of dreams to our little boy!
Today, on what Daniel calls his "regular birthday", I had the privilege of taking Daniel to the movies for the very first time to see "Up". Once, we conquered our fear of darkness and theater seating, we settled in with our ginormous popcorn and M&Ms to watch the film. As it turns out, even at 4 years old, Daniel is too light to effectively sit in a movie theater chair by himself without it folding him in half. Thus, I spent 96 minutes watching the film with Daniel in my lap along with 1/3 of the bag of popcorn which he could not seem to get from the bag to his mouth. In spite of it all, we had a blast and Daniel can't wait to go back!
This year we celebrated Daniel's birthday at Chuck E Cheese, along with our family and what felt like 250,000 of our closest friends. There aren't too many options for celebrating a birthday in Arizona in July that do not include severe dehydration, heat rash, and possible death. And for that reason, it appeared as if 1/2 the population of the Phoenix metropolitan area was at Chuck E Cheese that day. But, in true 4-year-old fashion, Daniel didn't notice the crowds- nor did he care. The day was all about him! Nothing screams "Happy Birthday" to a preschooler louder than balloons, gooey chocolate cake, presents, and a 6 ft tall talking mouse. It was the stuff of dreams to our little boy!
Today, on what Daniel calls his "regular birthday", I had the privilege of taking Daniel to the movies for the very first time to see "Up". Once, we conquered our fear of darkness and theater seating, we settled in with our ginormous popcorn and M&Ms to watch the film. As it turns out, even at 4 years old, Daniel is too light to effectively sit in a movie theater chair by himself without it folding him in half. Thus, I spent 96 minutes watching the film with Daniel in my lap along with 1/3 of the bag of popcorn which he could not seem to get from the bag to his mouth. In spite of it all, we had a blast and Daniel can't wait to go back!
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