Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Life Lessons

*If a friend is watching your young child, as soon as you leave they will have a dirty diaper. (Your chid, not your friend.)

*If you are watching a friend's child, as soon as your friend walks out the door their child will have a dirty diaper. It's just how it goes.

*The chocolate that's hiding in your closet yells much louder right after you've worked out than at any other time.

*If you only have a few minutes to catch a sneaky snooze, the phone or doorbell will ring just as you're drifting off.

*If you have as long as you want to nap the afternoon away, you will not be disturbed... but you also won't be able to fall asleep due to all the commotion in your brain regarding to-do lists and errands and relationships and conflicts and dreams and "did you wash the baseball practice gear" and "you didn't put the music away" and "if you don't hurry up and use that lettuce it's going to go bad and then you'll feel guilty for wasting money on something you didn't use and sending more plastic containers to the trash that didn't need to go" and such.

*What you hear in your head as you write a blog post isn't necessarily what translates after you've clicked "publish post." Some things you write as humor, wit, sarcasm or the-tone-you-have-when-you-roll-your-eyes just don't come across that way. This is why real writers have editors who catch that stuff before a book is printed.

*Even if you have a degree in writing and love to edit, you're still going to make grammar mistakes. At some point you have to just let that go.

*When your hair and make-up are having a good day, you don't have anywhere you need to be.

*When your hair and make-up are having a bad day, you will have many important appointments.
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Monday, February 23, 2009

Oscar Love

Who cares about the movies, I want to see the fashion!

When my InStyle Look of the Day email came today, I clicked through the photos of amazing Oscar Couture. I had just passed the one of Sarah Jessica Parker looking gorgeous (perfect dress, perfect hair, perfect... well, it would be better if the neckline were a good few inches higher... so maybe not PERFECT perfect... but she looks lovely), when my breath was suddenly stolen away and I hurriedly clicked back to it. You know when you see something in your mind's eye that your eyes just saw but didn't really see but now you're not looking at it anymore but can see that thing so clearly so you have to go back and see if it was really there or if your imagination added it? (Yes, I hardly ever make sense. I realize that. I have a condition called Angela Brain. It often manifests itself in run-on sentences that only make sense if you, too, have Angela Brain. Some say it can't be helped.)

There was her husband, Matthew Broderick, standing back... out of the way of the photo... taking in the brilliance of his wife.

See that look on his face?

You can almost hear his thoughts. "That's right. My wife is hot. She is HOT hot. She is amazingly hot and brilliant and gorgeous. I'm going to stand over here so you can fully absorb how breath taking my wife is. You dare doubt the authenticity of her, you cast rumors and try to snare us in your net. But, she is gorgeous and you can't deny it. You snap your photos. You go ahead and 'oooh' and 'aaah.' I'm the luckiest man in the world to be married to this woman. You're not married to her. I am. Baby, you are hot. You are gorgeous. You're all mine. You're my WIFE. MY wife."

Just wanted to share. It was cute.
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Friday, February 20, 2009

Fashion Tip Friday: My Secret Weapon

It's not a special undergarment... or lipstick... or perfume. It's not even *gasp* the perfect shoes or accessory-to-clothing ratio.

I could say that my secret weapon is my awesome hairstylist or finding amazing deals, both of which pump blood light speed through my veins. But, it's not.

If you spend any length of time around me you'll see I struggle with disorganization, poor time management, and an uncanny knack for forgetting what I was in the middle of doing. My eyeliner runs just like everyone else's. I struggle with adult acne. My hair doesn't always cooperate. (Which is what hats were created for.) My husband and I argue just like everyone else. My kids leave unfinished food around the house. I leave the load in the washer too long so it smells spoiled and I have to waste another cupful of detergent to wash it again, all the while thinking of the awful impact I'm having on our environment. The tray beneath the ice cube/water dispenser on the fridge is always nasty. (How DOES one get that thing clean, for Pete's sake?) And, as we've discovered, a whole colony of dust/toys/pretzels/school papers regularly takes up residence under our not-so-white white couch.

I'm just like everyone else...

except that I'm not.

I have a Secret Weapon.

I walk in grace and confidence. I hold my shoulders back and my head high and look people in the eye. I can have a conversation with someone I know I should be intimidated by, but I'm not. I can be in a room of women and not feel self-conscious or competitive. (Unless there's free fashion on the line, then I'll beat you with my purse until you give in and let me win.) I can stand on a stage and know I'm supposed to be there. I don't feel out of place.

Okay, so not ALL the time. We all have our moments. But MOST of the time.

It's because of my Secret Weapon...

which is simply this...

I know I am a daughter of The King, and I know I am walking in what He has for me. I know that I am protected and loved and cherished... even when I forget to switch loads of laundry. My Lord and Savior Jesus Christ isn't just a cool guy I get to see in Heaven, He is who I walk with every single day. Every. Single. Day. It's not just that my life is submitted to Him, it's that every single moment of every single day of my life is. I don't compartmentalize the church stuff and the home stuff and the work stuff and the military stuff. I walk with Jesus through it all.

Worry and fear and uncertainty don't rule my life. I didn't say they never come to visit. There are times (this past Wednesday) when they work very hard to come for an extended stay. But, I know Who's in control of my life. I know Who's holding onto the string of my kite. I know the only reason I can soar, and soar so high, is because My Father is holding on tightly and guiding me upon the strong breezes. And when those gale force winds come, I know I will not crash. I may fly a little lower for a while, but it's all while being held tightly in His grip.

When you see a woman of Godly confidence, you notice her. You see there is something different, something true. You see the impressive outside because she has grown beautiful on the inside. It's not the fashion or the hair or the jewelry that is catching your eye. Don't get me wrong. Those things have their importance. But we all know women who have those things and are still flighty, insecure, grasping for recognition, because fashion does not make the woman. The woman makes the fashion.

The thing that draws your attention is the Godly confidence that only comes from knowing Who holds on to her kite's string, and submitting her life to that.

A Beautiful Offering, by Angela Thomas, changed my life five years ago. It opened my eyes to the beauty of what I had to give, and changed the perspective of my heart so I could give it. There was a time I was unsure of who I was. I knew, but I didn't KNOW. At least, I didn't live like I knew. I was insecure and unsure and timid and afraid of being wrong and fearful of what other thought. I didn't want to take the wrong action, so I wouldn't take any action at all. I was so afraid of living wrong that I wasn't really living. At least, not in the fullness and freedom and joy that we are supposed to live in. There was a time.

But not anymore.

I know I am becoming a woman of Godly confidence. Wait. I AM a woman of Godly confidence. But, I don't boast in myself, I boast in the One who holds my kite's string.

He is my Secret Weapon. He is the foundation for all things fashion. Nothing looks quite right on the outside if you don't look good on the inside.

(And if you live anywhere nearby, come hang out at my house on Tuesdays at 9:30am as we eat, drink coffee, laugh, and walk through this awesome book together!)
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Wednesday, February 18, 2009

New things to laugh at.

Love these guys.

But, I mean, I'm not addicted to it, like they say. Not at all. I could live without it. I could! It's other people that are addicted. Other people that aren't me. (At least I don't send people mythical fish and weird plants.)

*Remember to silence my music player in the sidebar before you click play!*

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Monday, February 16, 2009

Under God

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Lincoln delivered his two-minute Gettysburg Address on November 19, 1863, at the dedication of the cemetery at Gettysburg, the site of the battle that arguable turned the tide of the Civil War in favor of the Union. So short was his message that many in the crowd did not even realize he was speaking until he was done. But so powerful were the words that shone a new light on the Declaration of Independence, a document espousing equality for all people. Just ten months before, on January 1, 1863, Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation had declared freedom for the slaves. And whereas the Declaration of Independence put forth freedom for all as an idea, the Gettysburg Address was a bold step toward making a "new birth of freedom" for all, indlucing the slaves, a reality.

The last written draft of the Gettysburg Address contained 265 words. However, as Lincoln stood to deliver the address, he added two words on the spur of the moment: under God. Lincoln's eloquent address is considered one of the finest speeches ever delivered by an American, and the addition of just two words reminds us of a truth that we must not subtract from America's equation: Our future will be assured and secured only as we remain under God, in His grace and guidance.


The Pledge of Allegiance was formed largely from the vision of three men: Daniel Ford, James Upham, and Fracis Bellamy.

Daniel Ford was the publisher of a popular family magazine, The Youth's Companion. Ford's belief in Christ was a great influence on the content of his magazine, and he guided his life and business by Christain principles. With a circulation of nearly half a million, The Youth's Companion was the nation's most-read weekly magazine in the late 1880s and early 1890s.

James Upham, head of the magazine's premium department, was disappointed that most public schools did not have their own flags, so he launched a campaign wherein schoolchildren raised funds to purchase a flag from the magazine. As a result, about thirty thousand flags were sold and flown for the first time in front of America's schools between 1888 and 1891.

In 1892, the country prepared to celebrate the four hundredth anniversary of Columbus's arrival in America. President Benjamin Harrison delcared Columbus Day, October 12, a national holiday for the first time. Upham wanted children across the country to participate, so he began planning the National Public School Celebration that would center on raising a school flag.

First, a proclamation from the president would be read, followed by prayer and Scripture reading, the singing of "America," and patriotic speeches. Wanting the children to participate more fully, Upham determined that they should recite a salute to the flag. He enlisted the talents of another magazine employee, Francis Bellamy, who had been pastor at the Boston church Daniel Ford attended. Bellamy labored for weeks and finally brought his composition to Upham: I pledge allegiance to my Flag and to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. It was published in The Youth's Companion on September 8, 1892. Thirty-four days later, twelve million schoolchildren across the country recited the Pledge of Allegiance for the first time.

In 1923 and 1924 the words my Flag were changed to the Flag of the United States of America. In 1948, a man named Louis A. Bowman proposed to his fellow Sons of the American Revolution that the words under God be added after one nation -- following a precedent set by Abraham Lincoln, who had extemporaneously added those same words to the end of his Gettysburg Address. Then, in 1952, William Randolph Hearst caught wind of the idea and began a campaign in his newspapers that helped bring about legislation to officially add under God to the Pledge. President Dwight D. Eisenhower approved this change on Flag Day, 1954, and proclaimed, "In this way we are reaffirming the transcendence of religious faith in America's heritage and future; in this way we shall constantly strengthen those spiritual weapons which forever will be our country's most powerful resource in peace and war."

(Excerpts taken from Under God, by Toby Mac and Michael Tait.)

May you remember this President's Day the foundations of our nation, and pray for our return to truth, our return to indivisible. One nation, under God.

~The White House
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Saturday, February 14, 2009

The day every girl wonders...

A little girl's heart longs to know she is special, special to someone, important to someone, loved by someone, romanced by someone. Every Valentine's Day she sees the world around her erupt in flowers and kisses and chocolates, all going to someone who is loved. And her heart yearns to be that someone! Every Valentine's Day each little girl, admittedly or not, wonders if she'll get the flowers or chocolates or special treats, if her heart will be someone's focus and desire. (Big girls wonder, too.)

The first glimpse we get of our Heavenly Father's love for us comes from our own father. And just like my dad did for me, my husband is doing for our daughter.

I married an amazing man.

Happy Valentine's Day
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Thursday, February 12, 2009

Other People's Words on Other People's Blogs

Wow. "I can't keep offering things that cost me nothing." This post is real. It's right. It's truth.

Makes you think.
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Sassy Shoe Thursday: Shoes can be healed, too!!!

Yay!!!! Yay, yay, YYYYAAAAAYYYYY!!!!!! Oh, I'm just jumping and squealing all around our kitchen this morning. I got off the phone two minutes ago with Anthony's Shoe Repair in Solana Beach and they're working on my beloveds right NOW. Yay!

They've gone in surgically and rebuilt them, replacing the original shank with a new, full length ones. (Naughty Jessica Simpson. Short shanks in heels are a sign of poor quality. You tried to cut corners. But, the glory of glamour will prevail!) The very bewildered workman said they'll be even better than new. I say bewildered because he seemed a bit confused at all my questions, but there was a laugh when I asked him to give the shoes a hug for me. He may have thought I was joking.

The wonderful news is they should be done by Saturday and be on their way home. Oh, why did I doubt? Why did I fear? Good fashion will always find a way. Always.
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Wednesday, February 11, 2009

A movie! About shopping!!!

Aaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!! Okay, okay, okay. I just hope all the funny parts aren't in the trailer. And even if they ARE, the trailer is hilarious! I especially love the chopping the credit card out of the block of ice part and the "You speak Prada?" part. This. Is. So. Me.

But, I'd like to think I'm more money conscious... and do a better job of matching pink and orange. (Which should be done both very carefully and very rarely, by the way.) And you SO know I would wrestle someone to the ground for the perfect boots... in the nicest and kindest way possible.

Girl matinee trip! Girl matinee trip!

(Plus, I love Isla Fisher.)

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Super Bowl Ads

I know this is a little after-the-fact, but I wanted to show the Super Bowl ad that NBC wouldn't. Evidently, the subject matter was too controversial.

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Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Fun For a Girl or a Boy

You do it first. Then let your kids give it a try... or whomever happens to be in your house at the moment. (Plumber? DirecTV Repairman? Sure!)

Interesting how I still only get a B in geography. Never been my high point, people. Never. Alas, I will not give up!

(Susie, Andy will like this one, too. Much like he did the other one.)

Update: Reloading the page so you get an easier state to start on counts as cheating... but it IS helpful.
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Monday, February 9, 2009

Reality Check

Florida Republicans Call for Murder Charges after Baby Survives Abortion

Several members of the Florida House Republican Caucus are calling on the Miami-Dade County State Attorney's Office to hold the appropriate individuals accountable for the death of Shanice Williams, who survived an abortion and was put in a trash bag to die.

“Administrative action against the physician by the Department of Health is not enough," said House Majority Leader Adam Hasner, R-Delray Beach. "Anything less than murder charges being filed is unacceptable.”

Sycloria Williams, then 18, went into a Florida abortion clinic to abort her 23-week-old preborn baby, but instead she gave birth to a living, breathing girl. A staffer placed the baby in a trash bag to die, according to news reports.

The Florida Board of Medicine has found Dr. Pierre Jean-Jacque Renelique guilty of medical malpractice and revoked his medical license. Renelique was scheduled to perform the abortion but didn't arrive in time.

(Article Courtesy of CitizenLink.com.)

So, you can induce the premature birth of a baby, deliver life-ending injuries as it exits the mother, and call this "legal termination of pregnancy." But if you induce the premature birth of a baby, it is delivered from the mother, and THEN you kill it, you will be charged with medical malpractice and your license revoked.

Either it's all right or it's all wrong. There's no middle ground here.

Either it's murder or it's not. There's no middle ground here.

And, if you're trying to tell yourself that this is an uncommon practice, you are very wrong. This one was just reported.
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It's raining outside. I love the rain. It takes me back home. It makes the air fresh and clean. It washes everything.

When I was a little girl I loved spending time with my Dad. In one house, my sister and I would climb up the big evergreen tree in the backyard so we could catch a glimpse of his car on the main road, about to turn down ours. Then we'd scramble down fast as we could, trying to beat each other to the driveway to get hugs. In another house, we would wait out at end of the gravel road so we could see when his car first rounded the bend. There was always a thrill that Dad was finally home!

When he would come home from business trips Charity and I were so excited! Dad was home! Yay! He would always pull something special out of his suitcase for us. And if you ever visit my parent's house I think you will still see in the Princess Bedroom (Mom, am I wrong about this?) a collection of horses and unicorns and pegasus that Dad brought me from different trips to different cities. He was thinking of me while he was away, and that was a wonderful thing for my heart to know.

I remember the countless hours on the living room floor. Dad would lay there and pretend to be "dead." Charity and I squealed endlessly as we'd jump over his arms and legs, trying to get as close as we possibly could, but not let him get us if he became "alive" again.

Once in a great, great while we'd stay home from everything and have a "sick" day, which was really a family day, but everyone else thought we were sick. We'd pull the hide-a-bed out and just lay there as a family watching movies and playing games.

Or we'd sit out on the back porch drinking iced tea and listening to stories of Dad's childhood. Oh, we loved hearing about how he and Uncle Curt crashed down the hill and into the barbed wire fence. How he and his five siblings would stack mattresses beneath the second story window and jump out, run back up the stairs, and jump out again. How he tied Aunt Sandy's doll to the ceiling fan so it went round and round, and she cried and cried.

In high school it was wonderful when Dad surprised me every so often. He would come and sign me out for lunch, then we'd go someplace to eat and talk. I remember when the school told him he couldn't just come and sign me out anymore, something about him not having the authority to take me out of the learning day. Dad got furious. "How dare you tell me I can't take my own daughter out to lunch." He fought it. And they conceded. And they never questioned it again. It made me feel wonderful that I was so special to my dad that he would fight that hard just to spend time with me.

There was a summer he even let me play clarinet with him in the polka band for a few performances. Oh, that was so special! I remember going with him to some event that we had to drive a while to get to. I don't quite remember where it was or what we did or what we ate. But I remember that I got to go and be with my Dad. It was special.

Sometimes he would give me gifts, or take me fun places. But the point wasn't ever what I received from my Dad, the point was how wonderful it was to spend time with him... to have that relationship. He would sit and listen to me ramble on about the silly boys at school, or the silly boys at the pool, or the silly boys at camp. He always seemed to have these insights into these situations that seemed revolutionary to me. How did he know this stuff? Of course, the older I grew, the less I was willing to let on that I thought he was wise. There were times I would just shrug my shoulders and say, "Whatever." But, Dad cared. And he prayed. And he didn't give up. And that meant the world to me.

Because it wasn't about the gifts or the places we went or even the things we talked about. It was about spending time with my Dad. It was about just wanting to be with my Dad. Those things came along WITH our relationship, because he's my Dad, and a father wants to bless his child. So there were the horses and unicorns and pegasus and lunchtime trips and polka band trips and fri-jo's at the Scandinavian Festival and the family days and the sapphire earrings and necklace. And those were wonderful blessings. But the point was the relationship. I love my Dad. I love him.

I love my Heavenly Father. I love Jesus. I love Him. Our relationship isn't about the things He gives me, it's not about the blessings. He gives me those things because a Father wants to bless His child. But the point is the relationship. He loves to spend time with me, just listen to me. He loves to be with me, and He always seems to have these insights into my circumstances that seem revolutionary. He just knows these things. And, the older I grow, the more I am willing to let on that I think He is wise. He cares. He doesn't give up. That means the world to me.

Our relationship isn't about the blessings. It's about our relationship. If my relationship with my Dad were based on what he could give me, what kind of relationship would that be? If it were based on the horses and the unicorns and the jewelry and the trips and the lunches... if the only reason I wanted to spend time with my Dad was to get those things... that wouldn't be much of a genuine relationship at all.

If my relationship with God were based on only what He could give me, only on the blessings, that wouldn't be much of a relationship at all.

The blessing comes along with my Dad, but the point is my Dad. The blessing comes along with God, but the point is God. I'm not pursuing the blessing, I'm pursuing God.

The blessing would be if Ian were healed. The blessing would be if little baby Cora had beaten it. But the point isn't those things. The point is, will we still seek Him even if these things never come? Will we still seek Him even when these things don't come? Even if the blessing looks totally different than what we think it should look like... will we still seek Him?

"Open up the sky, fall down like rain,
We don't want blessings, we want You.
Open up the sky, fall down like fire,
We don't want anything but you."

Are you seeking the blessing, or are you seeking God?

(I love you, Dad. Thanks.)
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Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Works For Me Wednesday: Mommy Lunch

I'm sure I've blogged on this before. I must have, because it saves time... therefore saving my sanity... but it's still healthy... which (let's be honest here) isn't always my forte.

Mommy Lunch: Basically a breadless sandwich. Rolled up meat (with optional mustard for dipping), cheese sticks/slices, and a pickle.

Brilliant. I don't have to get the bread out. I don't have to dig the mayo out of the bottom of the jar. There's no soggy sandwich leftovers getting moldy in the fridge because no one will eat the bread now that the mustard has soaked into it. And it's finger food, which the kiddos love.

But the other brilliance of a Mommy Lunch is that it's mommy making the lunch, so she gets to deviate from the plan as she wishes. (Especially depending on what the pantry holds.) Because basically, a mommy lunch is what mom wants to make for lunch.

However, I can't take the credit. My mom used to make these for us.

As I said, brilliant.

This is what works for me. To see other great ideas, head on over to Rocks In My Dryer.
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Monday, February 2, 2009

Will You Make ME One?

Okay. So this is so darn stinkin' cool. Will someone make me one and then send it to me? A pendant out of an old watch. People are so creative!!! But you know that, even if I found the old watch cases, I would never have time to sit down and make myself a pendant. I would love to WEAR the pendant. I'd have it by its lonesome over my black or gray turtleneck. Or I'd layer it with my vintage bronze beads. But, I would never have the time to make it.

Which is why I need someone out there to make it FOR me. I think that sounds like a relatively good plan, eh?

(Do you realize this is my third blog post in one day?)
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Goodwill Shopping... Online

Did you know? Because I didn't until recently. Okay, so you don't find QUITE the amazing deals as you do in Santa Maria on the second Tuesday of the month at 9:00am. BUT, there are some pretty darn good ones if you're looking for a specific item.

Goodwill online. Who knew?
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Just a part of our life...

*Preface: So many of you have asked that I decided to write a post on this certain aspect of our lives. I know it's a little long, even for one such as I... never prone to writing anything short. But it's simply what our days are. Ian's reality.*

He's a normal kid. We live a normal life. Baseball. Gymnastics. Church. Friends. He loves to ride his scooter and is super proud of how far he can cross his eyes.

He doesn't mind if you want to watch him prick his finger and squeeze the blood out. He'll even show you the reading on his monitor. He might flinch a little when he gets his shot, but you can watch that, too, even though he gets them in his "hiney." And if he wants to impress you, he'll smile while the needle goes in.

We have the insulin and the test kit with us wherever we go. Everywhere. We keep glucose tabs in case he's low. But if he IS low, we don't freak out. We just move quickly. Same as if he's high. He often won't be symptomatic until he's VERY low, though, which can be cause for concern. When your blood glucose level is supposed to be between 90 and 130 but goes down to 30, you need to move pretty fast. (Many people start going unconscious at 40.) So, we take everything everywhere with us. And, if it's a warm day at the baseball park or soccer fields, we take a little cooler, since it all needs to stay below 85 degrees or so.

It's just a part of life. Testing before and after meals. Before he goes to bed. I sneak in before I go to bed to check once more, because night times can be a little unpredictable. I won't be able to sleep if I don't make sure he's alright before we turn out our light.

He gets shots with every meal... if we miscalculated his carbs and he's too high in between meals... if there's a special snack or dessert... plus the long-acting one he gets once a day. There's so little fat on his five-year-old body that he only wants us to give him the shots in his rear. Stomach would work, too, but he says it hurts more. So, we rotate injection sites, and his cute little "hiney" looks like it has the chicken pox. He thinks that's funny.

We count carbohydrates in everything he eats. Everything. Every. Single. Thing. Until we had to start doing that, I never realized nearly everything contains carbs, which is just a fancy sounding word for sugar. Meat and cheese are fine. So are pickles, for the most part. Nearly everything else has to be counted. He gets one unit per 15 grams, approximately. And I now keep a Splenda bowl in the cupboard next to our sugar bowl so we can still sweeten his Cheerios. But at baseball games he can have all the sunflower seeds he wants, which is a lifesaver when all the other kids go running to the snack bar. He only needs one unit for the little boxes of Mike & Ike's, though, so sometimes he opts for those if I'm feeling lenient about junk food.

He can have that cupcake for someone's birthday at school, but most likely I've got to run over and give him a shot. Or we can put it in a baggy and he can have it after he gets home, which isn't as much fun as eating it with friends at school. And if we visit a doctor's office and they have suckers, he balances how badly he wants one with whether or not he wants to get a shot right then. Sometimes he forgets, and when a well-meaning mom at a soccer game offers him a granola bar, he may scarf it down before remembering to get a shot. Then his eyes get wide and he comes over, "Mooommmm..." Or sometimes we won't find out 'til a while later when he's grumpy and out of sorts and says his head hurts and his eyes are blurry. Then we'll test him and find out he's high. Then he'll remember the granola bar that he didn't get a shot for.

When it's snack time we try to lean toward salami and cheese, both of which he loves and doesn't have to have a shot for. But when the other kids are having an orange, or crackers and milk, he'll usually go for the shot so he can have what they're having. And if we're celebrating report cards and go to Hometown Buffet or Cold Stone, there's just a lot more testing and a lot more shots. We we're running around crazy between sports events and errands and whatnot, we tend to frequent the fast food restaurants that have the nutrition information on the wall or in a brochure. It's hard when they don't, because then we have to guess how much to give him. It's all trial and error.

We work with the nurses at school, who job share. Each one sees things a little differently, so we figure out what works best with each of them. I always have my cell phone so they can run something by me if his numbers are off, which happens quite often during the week. When I go out to the base or up to SLO I always have the thought in the back of my mind that he will be high and the nurse won't be at the school (they cover quite a few in the district) to give him his shot. She could take half an hour to get back to the school, and he'll be dealing with the effects of being high for that long. But, that can't be helped. If I'm home, I'll often just run over and give him his extra shot so it will take five minutes instead of twenty or thirty... like with the cupcake.

It's not that it's hard... it's just... constant. But it's the only reality he will ever know. That is, until he is healed or until there's a medical cure. We just do it. It's our life. It's his life. Really, this is his life. What we do now will determine his quality of life down the road, his health, the length of my youngest son's days.

But it does get emotionally difficult when someone who doesn't know tries to give us advice. Or, even worse, when someone who knows a little tries to give us advice. Because I realize your aunt has Type 2, and I know there are some things that really work for her. But that is a whole different world than Type 1. They shouldn't even be called the same thing. And I know your 25 year old daughter was just diagnosed, and I love to share stories and form a bond over our experiences. I really, truly do. But, please don't tell me what is going to help my five year old son as he experiences growth spurts that completely throw his numbers off, because your daughter never had to go through that. She was diagnosed as an adult. It's hard to hear, "Well, I guess you guys are going to have to learn to eat better. Too bad you didn't start that sooner." Because Ian's Diabetes has nothing to do with what he ate or what he did. It may not even have to do with genetics, because there are no other Type 1's anywhere in either of our families. Most likely he had a virus that attacked his pancreas. The doctor's just don't know. Medicine as a whole simply doesn't now. We don't know how it happened, how he got it. And we don't know how to keep our other kids from potentially getting it. Our family eats the same now as we did before, he just gets insulin before having that glass of milk, and I use sugar-free jelly on his PB&J. (But sugar-free does NOT mean carb free! This is an important tip to the newly diagnosed.)

Sometimes people's words hurt. But, they don't mean them to, and I remind myself that. We all say things out of ignorance. I do the same thing. We're mostly all just trying to be helpful and supportive. Then there are times when someone DOES mean to judge me, and those are hardest. They DO mean to tell me what I am doing is wrong and hurting my son. They don't mean to hurt me, but they do mean to pointedly explain how we should be doing things differently for Ian's benefit. Those are the times when I force a smile and say, very slowly and calmly, "We're working with our endocrinologist and doctors to make sure we're doing what's best for our son. His last two A1C's have been 6.something. So, I think we've got things under control. But, thank you for your concern."

I'm thankful for a wonderful friend who has learned and continues to learn how to test and give shots and what foods are easy and how much insulin Ian should get for other things so he can go hang out with his best buddy and be a normal kid who plays at a friend's house.

I'm thankful for my three other children who have stepped up and learned how to test him, how to give the shots. Nate and I can go out on dates (Woo-woo!) and not worry, because my oldest son is a great babysitter. The kids are protective of their little brother and watch to make sure he doesn't forget and eat that granola bar at the soccer game. They read the carb count on the backs of packages and have learned to divide the numbers to figure out how much insulin he needs.

Today he is home sick from kindergarten. He's been fighting something all weekend, and his numbers have been high. Yesterday we just could not bring him down, which means his little body is fighting hard. Not only does he feel icky from whatever it is, but is even more out of sorts because he's high. So his head hurts. And he's whiney. But he doesn't mean to be.

He's still five. And he still whines and disobeys on purpose. And we still have to discipline him. However, the lines get blurred because if his numbers are off, everything is just exacerbated. But that doesn't mean whining and disobeying are okay, and we still need to be consistent. Yet, consistency has become subjective. Bad behavior usually includes getting out the monitor to see if his blood sugar is playing a part or if it's fully Ian being a five-year-old.

And, it may just be a mother's heart, but I firmly believe... Nate and I both firmly believe... beyond just a belief... it's a feeling in my gut... a faith... that Ian will not have to struggle with this his whole life. He will be cured. My Jesus died on the cross. And when He died, he covered my son's disease with His blood. He paid the price of this imperfect and fallen world so we wouldn't have to. (We don't have to pay the price! Did you hear that? Do you get it? The price is death, and we don't have to pay it! But so many people still chose to. That's another topic for another post.) I know Ian's healing in this present world is possible. I pray for it every day. Every. Single Day. I believe for it. And I know that, whether or not healing manifests itself in this world that we know, it has already happened. Jesus already covered it. We just may not see that healing until we're in God's kingdom. Remember? This is not God's kingdom. This world has another ruler. We are in this world, but not of it. My son is healed, and I pray he will see that in this world. (John 17:14-19)

So, my five year old son has Type 1 Diabetes. He's not diabetic. We choose not to identify them that way, unless we have to on a medical form or in conversations with yet another new school nurse. He is not limited. We, as a family, are not limited. We are just careful and have learned to plan. But we are not limited by diabetes. My son is not limited by diabetes.

He has a disease. The disease does not have him.
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Sunday, February 1, 2009

And the winner is...

And the winner of my First Ever Giveaway is... drum roll, please... Lindsey!!! And, look at that! Look at that! Her blog is named... get this... Highheels and Hairbows. Can you say "separated at birth?"

I think people will suspect I chose her on purpose because of the wonderful comment she left me:

"You are too sweet! I love your blog...we seem a lot alike! I am gonna follow you!

Thanks for hosting such a great giveaway! I mean the only thing that could be better than a $5 Starbucks giftcard..would be if Beth Moore hanging out with me was part of the prize! :)"

But, girlfriends, this was random. My kids and hubby and a bowl with cut up paper and scribbled numbers can attest to that!

I kept you all waiting in eager anticipation to see what fashionable surprise would accompany the $5.00 Starbucks gift card, and...

...here it is! (The color isn't very good in the photo. Sorry. It's late. Which means no daylight. Which means poor photo color.) I'm including a fun & funky bracelet that would follow a fashion tip I covered recently. I'm also sending Lovely Lindsey a BEAUtiful purple scarf. It's lightweight, which means it will work even in Georgia. It will dress up any outfit and add that extra bit of style. (Maybe I'll cover scarves soon on a Fashion Tip Friday.)

Also, please note that the Starbucks card is (red). They will donate five cents for every transaction completed using a (red) card. (Please note that The Hubby suggests spending the amount on the card one nickel at a time to ensure Starbucks makes no money off this card. Or, he says, spend it one penny at a time, therefore making them lose money while they make their donations. I don't think either of these spending amounts is possible at this establishment.)

(Please also note that I say get what you want.)

Thanks to all who participated in this giveaway and left fun comments. Three-hundred and eleven. Holy Cow! I feel all famous and popular and whatnot.

And, to my new subscribers, welcome!
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