I should be doing other things this morning in the few minutes of time I have.  But this post has to be written. 

In the last few weeks I have received a large number of comments from people on how much they love my blog.  They smile as they recognize the joy my family experiences and I hear comments like, “I don’t know how you do it,” and “You are amazing,” and “Your kid have the best life.”  Really.  I hear these things.  I always point out that for the most part I only blog the highlights.  I only confess to a rough day or a crying spell every so often, and the miscarriage posts were clearly specific.  Yes, my family does a lot of fun things.  But our life is not perfect.  In fact, I feel very much like it is spinning out of control at times.

To illustrate, I am going to look back at the last week and look ahead to this next week.  If you are still standing at the end of the post, YOU, my friend, are amazing!

Last Monday – After we did some morning school, we were blessed to have a play date with new friends and I caught up with the mom (who I have known) for the first time in a year.  After they left I tried to do a little house work and start dinner before my mom came over at 3:30PM.  My mom has summer hours and I practically tagged her as Nigel and I left the house to go get his annual birthday-time photos at JCP.  (I had only gotten Johanna’s, 5 weeks late, the night before.)  I ran him to Kmart after his photos.  Home for late dinner, clean up kitchen, and call it a day.

Tuesday –  Another morning I attempted school with Tabitha and the kids did a bit on their own.  After that I tried to fit in a week’s worth of house cleaning while the kids bickered, disobeyed, and tried to manipulate one another to the point that they lost the privilege of going to Darien Lake Wednesday as planned.  There were tears and sad hearts that I had to leave at 2PM when I left for work.  It was an ugly day.

Wednesday – seemed like a good day – I even posted about it.  Still – it was BUSY.  We picked berries in the AM (watch for more on this in a few minutes).  Kids played all day long, nicely, as I tried to chip away at the work in the house.  What work do you ask?  The stuff that is threatening to swallow me at times.  The dining room project still unfinished and going on week 6.  The stuff piled into the pantry that needs to be rehung around the house from other paint projects.  The two bags of clothes given to us for the girls that have been sitting for four weeks.  The laundry room that is impenetrable.  STUFF.  And that doesn’t begin to address paper work that needs to be done.  Oh – and I had to run out after dinner to find something for my daughter’s birthday Friday.  Yes – somehow birthdays sneak up on me.  I am not proud of it.  And I don’t want to spend money just to spend money.  But I want her to open something.

Thursday – the good day yesterday made me jump to go to Darien Lake today.  Forecast was good.  No weird concerts.  It was fun for the most part.  But still – BUSY. 

Friday – was a mess.  Should I tell you how I shaved off part of my finger making apple pies for Marie’s birthday?  How we had a field trip at 1PM.  How I didn’t have the right cheese for the macaroni and cheese that my daughter requested for her birthday.  How I didn’t have enough evaporated milk to triple the recipe and servings were slim.  How I didn’t have wrapping paper for her gifts.  How I FORGOT TO PLUG IN THE CROCKPOT and dinner was a sloppy mess that I tried to bake in the oven.  How I cried my heart out in the kitchen and my son asked if another baby died in my tummy.  How I can’t even walk thru the pantry to get to silverware.  How we couldn’t find Johanna’s bathing suit anywhere and then found it in a toy car in the yard and we NEVER STOPPED MOVING ALL DAY.  How at 8PM I sat down for the first time all day and was at the computer to post about Darien Lake and forgot to put the kids to bed.  And how I cried myself to sleep.

Saturday was a fun day – Civil War reenactment.  Bet you know how much work I addressed at home that day.  (Zero.)

Why am I so upset about the house not getting attended to?  Well – it has been at least two months since I mopped the kitchen floor.  I am not making that up.  I haven’t cleaned my shower in probably 9 months.  Really.  I won’t go on.  You’d be afraid to come over.

Sunday – Sunday was supposed to be make cookies for friend’s brother/son’s funeral, make Marie’s party cake, and make jam from our berries.  I didn’t have quite that much to do as our berries from Wednesday had gotten moldy.  Had to toss them all.  Yes.  That is my life.  See I couldn’t make them before now because I had no sugar – and no time anyway.  I did manage a nap and some laundry room clean up Sunday.

This week – I’ll be briefer. 

Monday – kids have VBS all week.  Stewart is a helper.  It is his responsibility, of course, but as he is still 11, I feel some sense to help him prepare, etc.  We are having an impromptu birthday party for Marie – and I forgot – yes FORGOT – some little girls I should have invited.  Yes – I did.     Marie wants games and maybe I will have some time today to find one or two.  She wanted a sack race.  Will pillowcases work?  I had to spend $10 and BUY a pinata because I had no time to make one.  What a waste. 

Tuesday – VBS and I have to work.  My mom has to watch the kids because none of my sitters were available.  That stresses me out a little.

Wednesday – I am making 20 lbs. of pulled pork to feel 30-some missionaries in Palmyra on Thursday.  This will take time.  I also need to make cole slaw.  It will take two hours for me to pull this meat. 

Thursday – VBS – deliver meal – kids dinner and concert at VBS.

Friday – if I make it to Friday I will go to garage sales in the morning and have a friend come over at lunch time to help plan a baby shower for another friend. 

Do you feel stressed reading this, or is it just me?

I also have to have the kids’ In-Home Instruction Plans submitted to the school district by August 1st.  For four kids.  I HAVEN’T EVEN ORDERED THEIR BOOKS YET FOR NEXT YEAR.  I have NO IDEA what we are doing for science even!  I have to write out Nigel’s curriculum as he is in a gap year for the program we use.  When?  When?

I am sure some readers will shake their heads.  And they will be right to point out this is all stuff I have done to myself.  Sure – I’ve had people suggest to cut things out.  Oh, that sounds so easy.  What do I cut out?  Do I not make cookies for the funeral?  Do I not feed the missionaries that I signed up to feed two months ago? Do I not go to work?   Do I not take my kids places and offer them things like war reenactments so that I can clean the pantry? Do we let the free tickets to Darien Lake expire so I can clean the shower?  Do I not throw my friend a baby shower?

I am not complaining.  I am not looking for answers.  I am just trying to be authentic. 

If you read this blog and smile, I am blessed.  We do have fun.  We love each other.  We get to do really cool things.

But I am NOT amazing.  There is a price being paid. 

Because I like this picture.
She wasn’t ready to get up from her nap yesterday. And I could understand. I was overdue for some sleep, too.
I’m burning the candle at both ends and I’m weak in the middle. I’m on overdrive and ready for a pit stop.
A few minutes on the bed with Riffy was a gift. And the iPod was in my pocket, so I got to record it.

Kids, John, and I went to our first ever Civil War Reenactment.  It was at Genesee Country Village & Museum.  It was tremendous.  I loved talking to the reenactors.  I am fascinated by this living American history museum, in general, and this war-time event was amazing. 

I’d love to go by myself someday!  I have so many questions and love where the answers lead other questions.  The kids get tired after about my 12th question, however, and I have to move on. 

We saw two battles.  The first took THROUGH the village.  We had staked out a spot near the end.  The Union won the first battle.  The second battle took place in the southern field and included cannon ball and cavalry.  The Confederates won that round.

My camera was left on all night and the battery was dead.  Thankfully, Stewart had a charged battery.  He served as cameraman for our outing.

He mostly took video. 

I had to tell the kids at one point, as we entered the Confederate camp, to hold onto their questions a few minutes.  Seriously.  I firmly believe some people still think the wrong side won the war.  I overheard one Confederate reenactor saying, “I really sympathize with the southern concerns.”  Really?  Okay.  I understand that it was really about “States Rights,” and not slavery.  But come on – the right they were most concerned about losing was their right to own slaves.  Their whole way of life was threatened.  Personally – I do wish states had more autonomy.  But it took a courageous President and thousands and thousands of courageous men and their families to stand up for the defenseless. 

Hmmm – that sounds a lot like another war we ought to be fighting.  Imagine if we went to war to protect the unborn.  I wonder if as many families would make a sacrifice for that.  I think that is another post.

 

Eight years ago we welcomed our first daughter into our family.  We were not, “trying for a girl.”  In fact, I really was hoping for a boy.  I just was.  I am a very practical person by nature and after having two summer-born boys my logic pointed directly to ANOTHER summer bound boy. 

I should have known it was a girl.  From very early on in the pregnancy we knew that if it was a girl we’d name her Marie Selah.  I just *knew,* yet we were still deliberating a boy’s name en route to the hospital for the delivery.  This clear-cut name did not promote my desire for a girl.  A few weeks before I was due, I conceded that it *might* be a girl and bought a sweet little Marie the Cat outfit at Wal•Mart – for our potential Marie.

She has always been exceptionally animated.  And the queen of silly faces.  I joke that she is three people in one, and that she is like a bottle of pop shaken vigorously on a roller coaster while fireworks went off overhead.  The girl has spunk.

She keeps us in stitches.  Mostly joyful, she CRASHES when her heart is broken.  She loves sports and cheers on her friends. She gets frustrated at her Nan and I when we don’t run the bases fast enough, and dislikes defeat.  But she never quits and always wants to play again.

And we celebrated her birthday busily at home doing nothing.

We woke her with our traditional morning birthday song. 

Then the kids dressed like “Olesons” again for hours of play.  Nan came at lunchtime and brought a few gifts for Marie.

We broke from birthday fun long enough to go to the Stone-Tolan house for our NYS history class.

Home again for dinner, etc.  Ba (John’s mom) and Nene (my sister) joined us.  Marie found another dress out of the dress up clothes to enjoy dinner in. 

Sister-girls.

A tin pot for Laura Ingalls play.  A Marineland shirt we bought while we were there a few weeks ago under the guise that it was for Mommy.

Still so animated.

Back to Nellie Oleson clothes for birthday pie.

Golly – do we love our 8 year old ray of sunshine.  Can’t believe I would have signed up for something different. 
God does things way better than we can.

It dawned on me as we were hanging around Darien Lake yesterday that we were last year EXACTLY two years ago to the day.  Funny how my life is like that.

It’s also funny how few photos you take a place like this!

Johanna enjoy the swimming a lot, as did the rest of the gang.  We played a long time in the wave pool and visited some of the slides.

Tab had the best of both worlds, for the most part.  After taking The Predator (roller coaster) by the horns upon our arrival, she slowed down on the wilder rides and spent part of her afternoon showing Johanna around the kiddie rides. 

I’m not a huge fan of Darien Lake.  It’s bigger than Seabreeze, but not better, in my opinion.  It truly does have enough to do there to make it a vacation spot for some.  But so much of what it has to offer costs extra.  And I don’t know that it really offers much different; a lot of ride ideas seem to repeat.  And it is a concrete jungle.  While they have benches everywhere, the shade is grossly lacking.  And… it just isn’t that pretty.  Most of what should be flower beds are just dirt and weeds.  Granted, we are big amusement park people and many who visit Darien will not look at it as critically as we do.  But while it is almost the size of Dollywood the lack of cohesive theme keeps me from getting “in the mood.”

ALL THAT BEING SAID – I must give a shout out to a new ride they have called, “Moose on the Loose.”  You ride a moose through a track and at intervals hear the scenery speak to you.  It really is novel.  I haven’t seen anything similar in all the other parks we’ve been to. 

And the kids got properly soaked at Grizzly Run.

Dad got “soaked” at the Perry’s ice cream counter.  And as very little food in the park was safe, it really was the only treat we could partake in. 

And go figure… sweet Stewart… the one who CAN’T eat any of the other food is the one who dropped off the top of his ice cream.  I offered  him some of Hanny’s and mine, but he passed.

She was okay with that. 

 

Oh – and look.  Here is the only photo of me from the whole day.  With my girl.  The day before her birthday.

Here I am with my girl the day before her birthday in 2010.

I am SO behind on this blogging…

Nigel turned ten on the 2nd.  The timing of his birthday means most years Daddy gets the day off.  (Unless it falls on a Friday, which was last year.)

We had a few gifts before breakfast.

A surf board for the pool, some new drum brushes, a t-shirt, and two “gift certificates.”  One was for a MYSTERY DAY WITH DADDY, which took place on the third.  And the other was for a day at Village Sports in Fairport that we will use at a later date.

Nan brought him a Prince Caspian action figure.

Late in the day we took some pizza and wings to a park for dinner.  Nigel chose a Sesame Street theme because of our recent trip to Sesame Place

 

Nene (my sister) gave the boys a joint gift of a boat for the pool.

And a Grover cake was gobbled by all.

It was a hot, gorgeous birthday with lots of playing and swimming.
And it WAS a special day.

After a day of grand disobedience yesterday, that cost them an outing to Darien Lake today, my kids did a 180 and had a stellar day today.

We started out with berry picking, the middle three and I.  We picked 8 pints in very short order.  I hope to make our second batch of jam Friday.  The first batch was deemed responsible for creating the BEST homemade yogurt of all time. 

Then, for hours and hours and hours today, the big four pretended to be the Olesons from Little House on the Prairie.  They’ve filmed scene after scene for a movie today.  Nellie, Harriet, Willie, and Nels. 

I am grateful they have each other.  This middle-sized family just rocks.  I hope Hanny fits in one of these days.  They try to make her a character, but she doesn’t memorize the scripts sufficiently.  I even heard them settling fights today.  And the whining was almost non-existent.  Maybe they should lose big privilege more often?  Hmmmm.

We told them at dinner we will go to Darien tomorrow.  They were very surprised.  It got one, “Hallelujah,” and another, “Praise the LORD.”  Heh.

I can’t find time to blog.
We’re busy I guess.

Busy:
picking berries and making jam
making birthday cakes and celebrating birthdays
swimming
dodging blanket emails from people who just don’t get that I don’t share every last conviction they have
helping my son prepare for being a teacher’s helper for VBS
taking the kids to a summer class on NYS history
working
taking naps because my work schedule messes me up
swimming
having spontaneous, and planned, fellowship with people as we float around the pool
having some of that fellowship with long-time friends, and some with people we don’t know that well
watching the kids through the laundry room window as they make movies pretending to be Little House on the Prairie characters
laundry
making meals for missionaries
making meals for friends having babies
making food for friends having funerals
swimming
planning for next school year

praying… a lot — so much to pray for. My myself, for others.

Too busy to blog.  Lots of activity, not enough sleep, too many hotdogs.

Eating green crayons…

Last night of HIS Baseball

Extra weeding as discipline

Mowing and singing (she rocks)

Kids playing ball with dads, and 2 year olds being included.

Silly faces begging dads to “Play more, play more.”

2 year olds waking up brothers on the top bunk they like to share

 

Summer is good… the sky has been clear… and we’ve been busy!

Being Olesons

All my kids’ birthdays are special.  But something moves in my heart each July 2nd as we celebrate Nigel’s arrival to our family.  Born at 32 weeks/4 days gestation, Nigel faced challenges that still choke us up. 

At 22 weeks pregnant I was diagnosed with polyhydramnios – a condition of too much amniotic fluid.  This condition puts mom at risk for pre-term labor and has a variety of causes that are trouble in themselves.  Twenty percent of the time it is a Mom issue, 60% of the time they do not know the cause, but 20% of the time it is a baby issue – and those issues are VERY concerning and often require post-birth surgeries, etc.

For ten weeks we underwent lots and lots of scans.  His kidneys had fluid build up, his legs were uneven, his heart looked good, and his gut was intact.  God used this time to move John and I closer and closer to Him.

 

TEN years ago YESTERDAY, it was Monday, 7/1, and the first day of John’s week off work. I was in a great mood. We’d had dinner the night before at our dear friends’ house (Cathy and Jim), we had a few fun things planned for the week, and with it shaping up to be the hottest summer in years we planned on doing a bunch of swimming.

I realized that I had used up all the midwife appointments that I’d scheduled a month or so ago. My midwife’s senior partner had retired, and my midwife, Beth, was joining another group affiliated with the same doctors and hospital that she and her partner had worked with. I pulled out the phone book and located the number and called. The receptionist was funny and we joked about me hunting Beth down. Her first day in the office would be tomorrow 7/2 and she told me I could have any time I wanted. Since I had an ultrasound scheduled at Rochester General, the hospital I work at (not where I’d deliver) at 10:30AM, I asked for a 9:30AM appointment. I was good-to-go, and went on to have a great day.

TEN years ago, TODAY, it was Tuesday the 2^nd. Again I was in a great mood. I got up and ready and said goodbye to John and Stewart, who had a fun daddy-son day planned. I was going to go to my appointments, and do some SHOPPING! I had a few birthday gifts I need to pick up and I was going to find myself somewhere nice to have lunch.

My appointment with Beth was great. I was down almost two pounds and for the first time my belly was measuring more closely to my due date. The smaller my belly, the less at-risk I was for pre-term labor. She DID confirm what I had thought; my baby was breech. We talked about trying to get to 35 weeks or so and try a version. She gave me her brand-new pager number and I left.

I headed to the U/S about two miles away for my routine bio-physical profile. I had a different sonographer than all the other visits, but she was just as cheerful and encouraging. I was enjoying talking with her and had lost track of time. It was only when she said, “I need to get Dr. Pressman (the perinatologist); I can’t get this baby to move.” Well, the baby was scoring a 1/10, and that was after an HOUR of trying. I was being told to head directly to Park Ridge Hospital to see the doctor. They were very careful not to alarm me, but the excessive fluid I had had for months was suddenly gone. The sac was dry and the baby wasn’t moving. At all.

They asked if I had my doctor’s pager number, and I gave them the one Beth had JUST given me. They showed me to the phone to call John. I worked not to alarm him, and I must say I was feeling VERY peaceful. I’d been down THIS road before (or so I thought) so I stopped by the café in the lobby for a cookie the size of my head and some pink grapefruit juice. I reckoned they would not let me have anything to eat or drink at the hospital. I tried to tell myself they were just being careful and that there-went my day of shopping, but I’d be home in a few hours.

As I climbed into the van, I heard a voice tell me that I’d have this baby today. I tried to brush it off, but I did call John on the cell and gently suggested he get the cameras ready and throw my toiletries into the bag I’d packed weeks earlier. I also asked that he bring me Stewart’s bucket hat, for comfort.

I got to Park Ridge and was immediately greeted at triage. I went to go pee and get off my horrid support hose. As I came back to the exam room, Dr. Tripp was there, looking somewhat tense. He did a quick scan and said, “Stace, I don’t know how they gave you even a one.” The only thing my baby had going for him/her was a good heartbeat. There was no movement. My water had never broke, but the fluid was all but gone. If the baby weren’t already toxic, it would be in short order. The dry sac and breech presentation guaranteed me a c-section. When was the last time I ate?? I confessed to the cookie the size of my head and he shook his head with a smile, most likely thinking, “Nurses!!” We planned to monitor me until his office hours were over and then head to the OR.

The next six hours were topsy-turvy. John had my mom watch Stewart so he could join me. Later my mom got our friend Ellen to stay with Stewart so she could join us. John called his parents and they scurried to get home from their cottage. My midwife showed up, still trying to be upbeat and encouraging. She camped out with us for the duration. My friend Cathy, (who we had enjoyed dinner with Sunday) was scheduled to work that evening, but had been called off. I was very, VERY disappointed. We made a lot of calls and got a lot of prayer-chains going. One friend started to make some practical decisions and got some people organized to bring us food. At that point we had no idea what to expect.

I had a parade of hospital staff in my room. Not only my MD and midwife, but tons of nurses, the lactation consultant, the anesthesiologist and the neonatal nurse practitioner, also named Beth. I carefully explained to her that although the ultrasounds had consistently suggested a due date of 8/14, I knew to the core of my being that the correct due date was 8/24. She studied me carefully and asked at least three times, “Does the doctor know this?” I’d told them all many times, but since the first U/S was at 22 weeks, they all took the U/S to be the correct date. It was obvious she was concerned. The bottom line remained that the baby HAD to come out.

Whenever we were left alone in the room, John and I furtively discussed what we would name the baby. We were set on a boy’s name, but we were still fussing over a girl’s name. We settled on Monica, as that had been Stewart’s girl name, but we weren’t wild about it. I told John he could pick the middle name to be either Shonnessy or Stacy and let me know when it got here.

One of the best surprises of the day came when my nurse told me that they had one other patient come in and that warranted calling my friend Cathy back in to work. She would be my nurse around 5PM! When Cathy got there she was immediately assigned to me. She was such a great comfort. She prayed with me and my family. She asked me if I had a guess as to whether or not it was a boy or girl. I confessed I thought it was a girl because of something a sonographer had said weeks and weeks prior.

Around 6:30 P.M. I went to the OR. My mom got to watch from the C-Section Viewing Room attached to the surgical suite. I got the spinal put in and they hooked me up to the tons of equipment necessary. As the surgery began, John stood by my left shoulder and Beth (the midwife) stood by my right. I could hear my heartbeat on the monitor and it was so tachycardic. I asked the anesthesiologist about it, wondering if that was a side effect of the meds. He said it was likely related to my nervousness. I thought I was rather relaxed but realized then I was very anxious. John and Beth comforted me as the team got started. I started crying on and off; it seemed like hours. Just a few minutes later the baby was delivered. As Dr. Tripp held the baby up for John to announce the sex, I made eye contact with my friend Cathy, who was gently shaking her head. You could tell by her eyes she was smiling, even with the mask covering her face. Just then John said, “It’s a boy!” and he followed Nigel to where he would be taken care of by Beth the neonatal nurse practitioner, just on the other side of the room. The nurses opened the window up so my mom could see him. Midwife Beth moved to my left as that was the side of the room they had the baby on. Over the next few minutes she celebrated with me every little thing about our new son. “His eyes are open, Stacy! He opened his eyes. Can you see him?” “Oh, he peed, Stacy, did you hear that? He peed!” “Five-fifteen, Stacy, that is amazing. Did you hear that? He’s BIG!” And finally, “Stacy, what is his name? Do you have a name ready?” And I will always be so grateful for how she responded when I quietly said, “Nigel Shonnessy.” “Oh, Stacy! That is a great name! I love it. Nigel. Oh, that is beautiful!” If she’d had said, “Nigel? Is that a family name?” it wouldn’t have been the same. I told her it meant Champion, and she grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it.

It was a few minutes later, and they wrapped him up and let John bring him over to me. He was beautiful. They unstrapped my arms so I could reach over to touch him. I stroked his cheek and thought, impatiently, “I wish they would just hurry up down there. I can’t wait to hold him.” I barely finished my thought, when my midwife, Beth, a former NICU nurse said, “Stacy, he’s getting a little blue. We need to get him some help breathing.”

It would be two days till I got a chance to hold him, after all.

They wheeled Nigel to the nursery. John, my mom and my mother-in-law, who had just arrived, followed Nigel. The next few hours are sort of a blur. I went back to my room to recover. Cathy stayed with me till after midnight first as my recovery nurse, then as my friend. I was very peace-filled and calm. John and my mom came in and out to tell me what was going on and how Nigel was doing. It wasn’t until a few days later that I learned of the multiple attempts at intubating him, and the many needle sticks he’d had.

At some point Dr. Tripp came in to talk to me. He said the bottom line was that the baby had needed to be delivered, but in fact, he was earlier than the U/S advised and his level of need was greater than Park Ridge could handle and he needed to be transported to the NICU at Strong (a third area hospital). There were currently no beds available for me, however. I’d have to stay at Park Ridge. I was disappointed but okay with it. I just wanted them to get him moved along. It was a few hours until that occurred, because the transport team was getting a baby from Highland Hospital in worse condition.

 

Nigel left Park Ridge around 11:45PM on 7/2 and arrived after midnight at Strong on 7/3. John spent that day juggling his wife in one hospital, his newborn son at another and his 22 month-old at home.

Nigel wasn’t ever lonely, there, as his Nan, Ba, and Poppy called on him in the NICU. They also made time to visit me.

My doctor allowed me to be discharged on 7/4, early in the morning. I was in so much pain, but was aching to see him. The dust was starting to settle and we were just beginning to realize the road ahead of him and us.

The next month was a trial, but God got us through it by surrounding us with help, in the form of rides, calls, meals, baby-sitting and cards. We were so well-cared for, and on the darkest days (7/12/02!!) He made sure we never felt alone.

The NICU nurses were outstanding. And Nigel did come home, finally, on 8/1/02. He gets TWO special days in my heart!! 7/2 and 8/1!