Hello all!
Declan is finally napping for the first time today, my classes for the semester wrapped up yesterday, and I finally have a free moment to update on life.
We've been pretty busy lately, but, honestly, who isn't these days? Easter is fast approaching, which means we're getting ready for some much looked forward to time on Cape with my family. It's crazy to think that the last time everyone from that neck of the woods saw Tutter, he'd just gotten proper head control. Now he's crawling all over the place and even trying to walk.
Having a mobile baby is an incredibly scary thing. I kind of joke about not being excited about his first steps, which obviously isn't true. I'm so proud of my little guy and am in awe of the way he's grown in the past eight months. (Let's be honest, I'm in awe of the fact that neither Matt nor I have broken him yet.) But in all seriousness, there's a part of me that just isn't ready for him to be moving as much as he is. Praise the Lord we decided to convert our dining room into a play area, because without that I shudder to think of the kind of trouble he'd find around the house.
I keep having nightmares that he's crawling around the kitchen, chewing on bottles of Windex and pressing his hands to a hot oven. I guess it's time to baby proof... which leads me to our next piece of big news.
We're moving! (Again...) At least this time I'm not 8.5 months pregnant. It was something we prayed about doing in January, quickly decided it wasn't a good time for us, and then re-considered again when we found the right house. It's newly renovated, has a new kitchen, and 4 bedrooms. The biggest bonus is the fact that it allows us to reduce our monthly payments by a significant amount. If all goes well, we'll hopefully close by April and slowly start the moving process. (The last time for at LEAST five years, thankfully!) We feel really blessed that God opened this opportunity up for us. Needless to say, this house is a good deal more baby-friendly than the one we're renting currently, and we'll be able to baby proof once we start moving in.
Declan is now awake and wants to say hi: yunnyn
Words of wisdom.
As he is now currently wobbling around the playroom like he recently got off the Mayflower, I'd better go assist him (find a helmet that fits him).
Monday, March 11, 2013
Thursday, February 7, 2013
The Dunham Family Lexicon-- Declan Edition
Have you ever had a friend with whom you've almost developed your own vocabulary? And then you occasionally use terms from aforementioned private vocabulary in front of other people and they think you're crazy?
Me too. Except I'm married to that friend, and it dawned on me the other night, when we had a house full of people over for the Super Bowl, how incredibly ridiculous we must sound sometimes. This has always been a quirk in our relationship, but it has gotten like... fifty times more ridiculous since having a baby. I'm not sure why. Here are some of the following terms you may here in the Dunham household on a regular basis-- and these are just the ones that refer to Declan.
Bink That Baby: (verb) Refers to a time during which Declan is screaming, usually at the top of his lungs, and either Matt or I need to go put his binky back in his mouth. We'd hoped this term would eventually expire as Declan learned to Bink His Own Person, but now he's developed the habit of throwing his binky across the room.
Unbinkable: (adj... actually, technically it's a nominal, but whatever) Unbinkable is a state of being during which the baby in question (Declan) refuses to be soothed by his binky. Typically a baby is unbinkable because he is holding out for a bottle, or for Mommy cuddles. This manipulation tactic is ineffective on Daddy, but gets Mommy every time.
He's Been Raptured: Being Raptured refers to a time during which Declan has moved out of the camera's view in his crib. Very frequently we'll look at the video monitor and only see his binky. It looks like a cheesy scene from the Left Behind Series.
Tuttin' It Up: I'm not sure how this happened, but over a series of much evolution, Declan's nick name has become "Tutter." (i.e Tutter Butt, Tutter Butter). Kids do weird things to you-- that's my only defense. But I digress. "Tuttin' It Up" refers to the transition time between being put down for the first time and Bink That Baby time. Tuttin It Up is a happy time of much cooing, squealing, scratching the walls, chewing the crib bars, and just generally reveling in not napping. Never try to Bink That Baby while he's Tuttin' It Up; this is ineffective at best, and it will make a baby Unbinkable at worst.
Real Live Declan Toots: This pretty much just refers to Declan toots-- also known as a "false alarm." I'm not sure why we felt the need to modify this; it's not like he ever has tape delayed toots, but we always refer to it in this manner anyway.
Those are all the major key terms. Be prepared to hear them if you ever come over. I'm thinking of publishing pocket editions of this to hand out as door prizes upon entrance to our home.
Me too. Except I'm married to that friend, and it dawned on me the other night, when we had a house full of people over for the Super Bowl, how incredibly ridiculous we must sound sometimes. This has always been a quirk in our relationship, but it has gotten like... fifty times more ridiculous since having a baby. I'm not sure why. Here are some of the following terms you may here in the Dunham household on a regular basis-- and these are just the ones that refer to Declan.
Bink That Baby: (verb) Refers to a time during which Declan is screaming, usually at the top of his lungs, and either Matt or I need to go put his binky back in his mouth. We'd hoped this term would eventually expire as Declan learned to Bink His Own Person, but now he's developed the habit of throwing his binky across the room.
Unbinkable: (adj... actually, technically it's a nominal, but whatever) Unbinkable is a state of being during which the baby in question (Declan) refuses to be soothed by his binky. Typically a baby is unbinkable because he is holding out for a bottle, or for Mommy cuddles. This manipulation tactic is ineffective on Daddy, but gets Mommy every time.
He's Been Raptured: Being Raptured refers to a time during which Declan has moved out of the camera's view in his crib. Very frequently we'll look at the video monitor and only see his binky. It looks like a cheesy scene from the Left Behind Series.
Tuttin' It Up: I'm not sure how this happened, but over a series of much evolution, Declan's nick name has become "Tutter." (i.e Tutter Butt, Tutter Butter). Kids do weird things to you-- that's my only defense. But I digress. "Tuttin' It Up" refers to the transition time between being put down for the first time and Bink That Baby time. Tuttin It Up is a happy time of much cooing, squealing, scratching the walls, chewing the crib bars, and just generally reveling in not napping. Never try to Bink That Baby while he's Tuttin' It Up; this is ineffective at best, and it will make a baby Unbinkable at worst.
Real Live Declan Toots: This pretty much just refers to Declan toots-- also known as a "false alarm." I'm not sure why we felt the need to modify this; it's not like he ever has tape delayed toots, but we always refer to it in this manner anyway.
Those are all the major key terms. Be prepared to hear them if you ever come over. I'm thinking of publishing pocket editions of this to hand out as door prizes upon entrance to our home.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
The Weekend I Didn't Bubblewrap My Son
This weekend I have become very aware of the fact that God has taken me on an incredible journey throughout my Mommyhood thus far.
For example, yesterday afternoon I realized that Declan was probably getting sick. I knew this because my son, the Big Hungry, was content with only half of his usual hulk sized bottle. And then he didn't scream bloody murder for solid foods. To top that all off, he actually took a regular sized baby nap. So either somebody swapped my baby out for a fairly normal one, or DJ was feeling under the weather.
Matt laughs at me almost every time I decide to take Declan's temperature. In Matt's defense, this is because I took it so much during the first three month's of DJ's life that the poor thing was probably starting to think the thermometer was a permanent annex to his buttock region. Even Matt, however, was shocked to see that little digital number climb all the way to 102.6.
Now, keep in mind that the woman writing this is the same person who literally took Declan to the emergency room the first time he coughed and spiked a whopping fever of 99.4. So, the fact that I wasn't dousing Declan in ice water while calling for the ambulance is quite an accomplishment, in my opinion.
I did, however, call the after hours line at our pediatrician's office. In case you've never called an after hours line before, if you ever do, don't expect a concerned soul on the other line. I guess these people are probably used to frantic mothers calling about more pressing issues, but when I began explaining Declan's fever to the woman on the other line, she responded, in her charming chain-smoker tones with "I don't need to know that. Date of birth of the child?"
An hour later, I still hadn't heard from a doctor, who was supposedly going to call me back within the next half hour. So I called again.
Me: Hi, I called about an hour ago about my son, Declan, and I still haven't heard from a doctor. He has a pretty high fever, and it's still spiking, so--
Chain-smoking Call Center Girl: Still don't need to know. Repeat your number for me, and I'll send the page out again.
Two hours later, after still not hearing anything, I called again. Apparently enough time had elapsed that there was a shift change, because a fairly timid man picked up this time. I explained my situation again, not bothering to hide my distaste for the great raspy wonder I'd spoken to earlier, to which he replied, with fear in his voice, "Oh, you spoke to Clarrise, didn't you?"
When the doctor finally did call me back, I took her casual tone as affirmation that Declan was probably going to live and my mind was finally a bit more at ease.
So, in six short months I feel I have graduated from the "seriously considering bubble wrapping my son" club, to the "eh, rub some ibuprofen on it. He's fine" crowd. Oh how times change.
And, for the record, Declan is feeling much better today. I'm glad we saved ourselves that emergency room bill this time.
For example, yesterday afternoon I realized that Declan was probably getting sick. I knew this because my son, the Big Hungry, was content with only half of his usual hulk sized bottle. And then he didn't scream bloody murder for solid foods. To top that all off, he actually took a regular sized baby nap. So either somebody swapped my baby out for a fairly normal one, or DJ was feeling under the weather.
Matt laughs at me almost every time I decide to take Declan's temperature. In Matt's defense, this is because I took it so much during the first three month's of DJ's life that the poor thing was probably starting to think the thermometer was a permanent annex to his buttock region. Even Matt, however, was shocked to see that little digital number climb all the way to 102.6.
Now, keep in mind that the woman writing this is the same person who literally took Declan to the emergency room the first time he coughed and spiked a whopping fever of 99.4. So, the fact that I wasn't dousing Declan in ice water while calling for the ambulance is quite an accomplishment, in my opinion.
I did, however, call the after hours line at our pediatrician's office. In case you've never called an after hours line before, if you ever do, don't expect a concerned soul on the other line. I guess these people are probably used to frantic mothers calling about more pressing issues, but when I began explaining Declan's fever to the woman on the other line, she responded, in her charming chain-smoker tones with "I don't need to know that. Date of birth of the child?"
An hour later, I still hadn't heard from a doctor, who was supposedly going to call me back within the next half hour. So I called again.
Me: Hi, I called about an hour ago about my son, Declan, and I still haven't heard from a doctor. He has a pretty high fever, and it's still spiking, so--
Chain-smoking Call Center Girl: Still don't need to know. Repeat your number for me, and I'll send the page out again.
Two hours later, after still not hearing anything, I called again. Apparently enough time had elapsed that there was a shift change, because a fairly timid man picked up this time. I explained my situation again, not bothering to hide my distaste for the great raspy wonder I'd spoken to earlier, to which he replied, with fear in his voice, "Oh, you spoke to Clarrise, didn't you?"
When the doctor finally did call me back, I took her casual tone as affirmation that Declan was probably going to live and my mind was finally a bit more at ease.
So, in six short months I feel I have graduated from the "seriously considering bubble wrapping my son" club, to the "eh, rub some ibuprofen on it. He's fine" crowd. Oh how times change.
And, for the record, Declan is feeling much better today. I'm glad we saved ourselves that emergency room bill this time.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Here's To Henry
This morning around 9:30, I got a knock on my door from our across the street neighbors. They asked if we had a cat, and, very hesitantly (I thought she was going to complain about his running through their lawn or something), told her that we did. She asked if he was a very large cat, and I instinctively told her no. (Henry is huge, but I've known him since he was born, so I forget sometimes). After I remembered that Henry is, in fact, pretty fat, I told her yes.
She told me that she found him on the side of the road, very badly hurt after apparently being hit by a car. I started to rush out the door and she stopped me; she'd already brought him to the vet, and he told her there wasn't much hope. At this I realized I was crying, which made her cry. But praise the Lord for the sort of kindness it takes to rush a stranger's cat to the vet.
I won't detail the gory mess I found in the crate they said Henry was in; this was not my Henry. It couldn't be. But it was. I started crying again (dang it), and they helped me get him ready to drive over to the VT animal hospital, where they could offer him better care.
I stayed there with him as long as I could, and I held my poor furry baby's paw the whole way over there. He was in so much pain. The vet said he was in shock.
I don't really know why I'm writing this. I guess just because I'm not sure if he's got a realistic chance of making it, and when Matt and I went to visit him tonight we weren't allowed to touch him, so this is the best way I know how to say goodbye.
I watched Henry get born. In March of 2011 my roommates and I took in the meanest stray cat you'd ever seen, only to find out that she was pregnant. (She was also apparently not a stray, as we found out several months later.) We named her Edgar.
Henry was the third of four kittens. He was the only black and white one, and by the morning you could tell he was going to have the cutest little stripes ever. I knew this was the cat I wanted, and I knew I wanted to name him Henry.
Henry has always hated being held. He is not a cuddler. Even still, he follows you into any room you go into, happy to sit next to you, but rarely on you. He put up with the occasional snuggling I would force on him like a champ.
Henry was a ninja. You have not seen acrobatics until you've seen this cat in action. He could jump about six feet into the air without a running start. He climbed to the top of our screen doors, and would cling to them for dear life even when we opened them. His favorite things to play with (besides mine and Matt's toes!) were our corn hole boards.
Henry is terrified of balloons. Matt got me a big silver balloon for my birthday last year, and it took us three days to realize the reason Henry would not leave our bedroom was because he was afraid of the balloon. He was also really afraid of the life size cut out of "The Rock" I gave Matt for his 26th birthday. (Henry probably really hated our birthdays.)
Henry loved to slow blink at you, which is a sign of contentment for a cat. It was his way of saying "we're cool." I did that with him last night, and I'm really happy about that now.
On Saturday, I caught Henry eating mulch. He spit it out and looked up at me like he was embarrassed. It was awesome, and I wanted to share that but never did, because... well he's just a cat, and who really would have cared?
But Henry is my cat. He's been mine literally from the moment he was born. I've gone from holding him in the palm of my hand to hardly being able to pick him up because he's so heavy. All I want to do right now is give him a big hug and kiss and force the snuggles I know he secretly loves on him.
I can't do that, though, so this is what I'm doing instead. I love you, Henry!
She told me that she found him on the side of the road, very badly hurt after apparently being hit by a car. I started to rush out the door and she stopped me; she'd already brought him to the vet, and he told her there wasn't much hope. At this I realized I was crying, which made her cry. But praise the Lord for the sort of kindness it takes to rush a stranger's cat to the vet.
I won't detail the gory mess I found in the crate they said Henry was in; this was not my Henry. It couldn't be. But it was. I started crying again (dang it), and they helped me get him ready to drive over to the VT animal hospital, where they could offer him better care.
I stayed there with him as long as I could, and I held my poor furry baby's paw the whole way over there. He was in so much pain. The vet said he was in shock.
I don't really know why I'm writing this. I guess just because I'm not sure if he's got a realistic chance of making it, and when Matt and I went to visit him tonight we weren't allowed to touch him, so this is the best way I know how to say goodbye.
I watched Henry get born. In March of 2011 my roommates and I took in the meanest stray cat you'd ever seen, only to find out that she was pregnant. (She was also apparently not a stray, as we found out several months later.) We named her Edgar.
Henry was the third of four kittens. He was the only black and white one, and by the morning you could tell he was going to have the cutest little stripes ever. I knew this was the cat I wanted, and I knew I wanted to name him Henry.
Henry has always hated being held. He is not a cuddler. Even still, he follows you into any room you go into, happy to sit next to you, but rarely on you. He put up with the occasional snuggling I would force on him like a champ.
Henry was a ninja. You have not seen acrobatics until you've seen this cat in action. He could jump about six feet into the air without a running start. He climbed to the top of our screen doors, and would cling to them for dear life even when we opened them. His favorite things to play with (besides mine and Matt's toes!) were our corn hole boards.
Henry is terrified of balloons. Matt got me a big silver balloon for my birthday last year, and it took us three days to realize the reason Henry would not leave our bedroom was because he was afraid of the balloon. He was also really afraid of the life size cut out of "The Rock" I gave Matt for his 26th birthday. (Henry probably really hated our birthdays.)
Henry loved to slow blink at you, which is a sign of contentment for a cat. It was his way of saying "we're cool." I did that with him last night, and I'm really happy about that now.
On Saturday, I caught Henry eating mulch. He spit it out and looked up at me like he was embarrassed. It was awesome, and I wanted to share that but never did, because... well he's just a cat, and who really would have cared?
But Henry is my cat. He's been mine literally from the moment he was born. I've gone from holding him in the palm of my hand to hardly being able to pick him up because he's so heavy. All I want to do right now is give him a big hug and kiss and force the snuggles I know he secretly loves on him.
I can't do that, though, so this is what I'm doing instead. I love you, Henry!
Friday, December 14, 2012
Why Do Bad Things Happen If God Is Good?
One of my biggest pet peeves is when Christians, posed with the question "why do bad things happen if there is a good God?" respond in the following manner: "Even though we only see the negative effects of (insert tragic situation here), maybe God is using this for good. He has a bigger plan."
I think that's a shallow answer-- one that does not really reflect Biblical teachings that accurately nor reflects the general character of God. I think this is something that Christians hear long enough, attached with a proof texted version of Romans 8:28, and eventually begin to regurgitate, not necessarily out of laziness, but out of fear. Because what if we really thought about that question? What if we really, honestly considered how such bad things can happen in this world if God is simultaneously sovereign and good? Without our go to "it's secretly a good thing" mojo, we might get uncomfortable pondering that question.
I'll never forget being a senior in high school, relatively new to my faith, and having a good natured, mostly joking conversation with a friend, who isn't a Christian. And suddenly the conversation got very real, very quickly, and before I knew it, he was citing incidents of children who die of cancer and people who starve to death and honestly asking me, "where's your God now?" And I had no idea what to say, because suddenly thinking that God intended these things for any purpose seemed far fetched-- a convenient assumption made to answer a hard question.
This in mind, I think of the account of Adam and Eve very differently than I used to. It seems straight forward enough: God makes paradise. God puts man in paradise. Man breaks law. God punishes man. Boom. Genesis.
But I don't think that's exactly accurate. I don't think God put us all in a world where tragedy runs rampant because He was angry and wanted to punish us. I think God was angry because He knew the result of sin-- He foresaw the terrible things that could and would happen in a fallen, flawed world-- the tragedy that would strike the people He loves. This world, as it is, is not something God ever intended. Death was not an original part of God's plan, but rather a result of sin. God hates the senseless things that happen here more than we do. I believe that.
And so when I see people using a tragedy like the one that occurred today to say either "we may not understand it, but God knows what He's doing," as if this was something He intended-- a blessing in disguise-- or "this is a form of God's punishment for kicking Him out of our schools," it makes me sick.
God hates death. And He doesn't joyfully dole it out to advance His kingdom (either as a blessing or as a punishment.)
I'm praying hard tonight for the people of Newtown.
I think that's a shallow answer-- one that does not really reflect Biblical teachings that accurately nor reflects the general character of God. I think this is something that Christians hear long enough, attached with a proof texted version of Romans 8:28, and eventually begin to regurgitate, not necessarily out of laziness, but out of fear. Because what if we really thought about that question? What if we really, honestly considered how such bad things can happen in this world if God is simultaneously sovereign and good? Without our go to "it's secretly a good thing" mojo, we might get uncomfortable pondering that question.
I'll never forget being a senior in high school, relatively new to my faith, and having a good natured, mostly joking conversation with a friend, who isn't a Christian. And suddenly the conversation got very real, very quickly, and before I knew it, he was citing incidents of children who die of cancer and people who starve to death and honestly asking me, "where's your God now?" And I had no idea what to say, because suddenly thinking that God intended these things for any purpose seemed far fetched-- a convenient assumption made to answer a hard question.
This in mind, I think of the account of Adam and Eve very differently than I used to. It seems straight forward enough: God makes paradise. God puts man in paradise. Man breaks law. God punishes man. Boom. Genesis.
But I don't think that's exactly accurate. I don't think God put us all in a world where tragedy runs rampant because He was angry and wanted to punish us. I think God was angry because He knew the result of sin-- He foresaw the terrible things that could and would happen in a fallen, flawed world-- the tragedy that would strike the people He loves. This world, as it is, is not something God ever intended. Death was not an original part of God's plan, but rather a result of sin. God hates the senseless things that happen here more than we do. I believe that.
And so when I see people using a tragedy like the one that occurred today to say either "we may not understand it, but God knows what He's doing," as if this was something He intended-- a blessing in disguise-- or "this is a form of God's punishment for kicking Him out of our schools," it makes me sick.
God hates death. And He doesn't joyfully dole it out to advance His kingdom (either as a blessing or as a punishment.)
I'm praying hard tonight for the people of Newtown.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Let's Uplift Barack Obama In Prayer
President Barack Obama has been re-elected as the leader of this nation for the next four years. Okay, take a moment of silence to react to this.
You good? Good. Now that we've all taken a moment, I have a few things on my mind regarding this issue.
I have seen posts on the wonderful social networking site, affectionately known as facebook, that span the spectrum of "God placed Obama in office!" to "The anti-Christ has come." Such comments demonstrate the fact that we are a country divided-- one that cannot function holistically. A presidency has turned into four years of blind faith by one group of people and four years (okay, probably more than four) of unabashed criticism by another.
I voted for Mitt Romney. Am I disappointed that he didn't win? Obviously. Any of you who remember me as the pigheaded tenth grader who wore a t-shirt to school that read "Friends Don't Let Friends Vote Kerry" in 2004 aren't shocked. I didn't think Romney was an ideal candidate. I didn't agree with him in every regard. However, all things considered, I thought he was hands down the better man for the job. I don't like what Obama has done with America in the past four years. I have seen no financial improvement, I clearly disagree with him in a moral sense, and, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry), but he didn't kill Osama Bin Laden.
That being said, I do not think that Barack Obama is an evil man. I fear for our country, as I did when he took office four years ago, but I can't get behind people who are honestly marking him as the end all and be all of not only this nation, but the world at large. I can't get behind people who will hold a personal and far reaching grudge for the next four years. I'm going to roll my eyes at the folks who cry "lazy! get back to work!" when he takes ten minutes to present his March Madness bracket on ESPN this spring.
President Obama is our leader, and though we are not called to agree with him, we are called to pray for him. To my friends who are hoping for a further decline of our nation over the next four years, simply so you can point a finger and exclaim "must've been all that March Madness getting in the way," shame on you. What a proud, stubborn attitude that is. It was our duty as Americans to vote yesterday, and it our charge as Christ followers to uplift our president in prayer today. You can't honestly pray for somebody you're too busy hating.
On the other hand, I have also seen a ridiculous amount of posts from people who are going as far as saying "Obama wouldn't be in office if God didn't want him there." Preposterous. If that notion held true, Adam and Eve wouldn't have eaten of the tree of life, people wouldn't be dying of cancer, and Nickelback would have stopped making music already. Yes, God is sovereign, but that is not to say, by any means, that everything that happens here is because He willed it. I think there are an inordinate amount of people, particularly of my generation, who herald Obama as what this country needs simply because it's trendy. That makes me really mad-- not because we differ in opinion, but because the former is an uninformed opinion.
Does that mean I think everyone who voted for Obama was not informed? Of course not. I have many friends who were completely informed and voted him in anyway. To that I say, let's agree to disagree. Not, "we'll see who's right in four years," or "you're going to be sorry!"Those are proud and, frankly, anti-American sentiments. I don't hope for the fall of this country merely for the opportunity to say "Told you so."
I hope you don't either.
You good? Good. Now that we've all taken a moment, I have a few things on my mind regarding this issue.
I have seen posts on the wonderful social networking site, affectionately known as facebook, that span the spectrum of "God placed Obama in office!" to "The anti-Christ has come." Such comments demonstrate the fact that we are a country divided-- one that cannot function holistically. A presidency has turned into four years of blind faith by one group of people and four years (okay, probably more than four) of unabashed criticism by another.
I voted for Mitt Romney. Am I disappointed that he didn't win? Obviously. Any of you who remember me as the pigheaded tenth grader who wore a t-shirt to school that read "Friends Don't Let Friends Vote Kerry" in 2004 aren't shocked. I didn't think Romney was an ideal candidate. I didn't agree with him in every regard. However, all things considered, I thought he was hands down the better man for the job. I don't like what Obama has done with America in the past four years. I have seen no financial improvement, I clearly disagree with him in a moral sense, and, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry), but he didn't kill Osama Bin Laden.
That being said, I do not think that Barack Obama is an evil man. I fear for our country, as I did when he took office four years ago, but I can't get behind people who are honestly marking him as the end all and be all of not only this nation, but the world at large. I can't get behind people who will hold a personal and far reaching grudge for the next four years. I'm going to roll my eyes at the folks who cry "lazy! get back to work!" when he takes ten minutes to present his March Madness bracket on ESPN this spring.
President Obama is our leader, and though we are not called to agree with him, we are called to pray for him. To my friends who are hoping for a further decline of our nation over the next four years, simply so you can point a finger and exclaim "must've been all that March Madness getting in the way," shame on you. What a proud, stubborn attitude that is. It was our duty as Americans to vote yesterday, and it our charge as Christ followers to uplift our president in prayer today. You can't honestly pray for somebody you're too busy hating.
On the other hand, I have also seen a ridiculous amount of posts from people who are going as far as saying "Obama wouldn't be in office if God didn't want him there." Preposterous. If that notion held true, Adam and Eve wouldn't have eaten of the tree of life, people wouldn't be dying of cancer, and Nickelback would have stopped making music already. Yes, God is sovereign, but that is not to say, by any means, that everything that happens here is because He willed it. I think there are an inordinate amount of people, particularly of my generation, who herald Obama as what this country needs simply because it's trendy. That makes me really mad-- not because we differ in opinion, but because the former is an uninformed opinion.
Does that mean I think everyone who voted for Obama was not informed? Of course not. I have many friends who were completely informed and voted him in anyway. To that I say, let's agree to disagree. Not, "we'll see who's right in four years," or "you're going to be sorry!"Those are proud and, frankly, anti-American sentiments. I don't hope for the fall of this country merely for the opportunity to say "Told you so."
I hope you don't either.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Happy November!
Once again, life has been a little too crazy and time has been a bit too scarce. Finally, however, both my husband and Declan are napping, and I'm motivated enough to update!
I know some people already know this, but some do not: Two weeks ago, Matt and I came to the decision that I should put in my two week notice at work. As such, yesterday was my last day, and starting on Monday I'll be at home with Declan.
There are several reasons we decided this was the best thing for our family at the time, and none of those reasons are directly related to the job. I loved the job, I loved the people I worked with, and I loved the kids. I'm going to miss it there a lot. BUT, that being said, there's not a doubt in my mind that quitting was the right decision.
Declan has essentially been sick since he started day care-- sometimes more critically sick than others, but he's not been completely healthy since starting. Because of that, I think he was having a hard time sleeping at night-- especially in his crib. While he was not exactly showing signs of wanting to sleep through the night anyway, it seemed that every time he did, shortly after he'd get really congested and be up all night again. As you can imagine, that was not exactly conducive to a steady night's sleep for me.
So, not only was Declan miserable because he was sick, but I've been absolutely exhausted between working from 8-5, getting home by 6, taking care of Declan, attempting to make dinner, getting up all night with him again, and then waking up at 6 to get him ready for the day. While I was adjusting to the insanity, these adjustments meant that I was starting to cheat on Declan a little bit.
I didn't have the sort of energy I wanted to when I came home, and play time with my little buddy was starting to turn into watching him on his play mat while I tried to stay awake. I would get frustrated more easily when he was fussy. I was not enjoying my son like I should have been, and that hit me really hard one day. I can't think of any amount of money that is worth missing my son's first and only babyhood, but what I was getting paid was not even close to making it worth it. Despite the fact that I was getting a discount on childcare, by the time that deduction came out, plus taxes, I was making a little over three hundred dollars every two weeks. Every little bit helps, but for the amount of time and energy that I was putting into the job, the time I was missing with Declan, and the frequency with which Declan was getting sick, it stopped being worth it to me.
So, despite the fact that I already miss the people at Kidz Connection, I am entirely at peace with the decision I made-- that Matt and I both made. On top of everything else, this is Matt's first year running his own classroom full of seventh graders, and that in itself is a monumental task. I know that having someone at home to keep things grounded here (and to keep dinner on the table and dishes out of the sink, haha) is going to be a big help to him.
I've actually had a few people ask me what I'm going to do with all of my spare time now. Hah! That's laughable. Declan is a full time job, and I'll happily take that on. I can't wait to get him on a more regulated schedule. I also can't wait to clean my house, because it hasn't been entirely organized since I started working. I'm also taking grad school classes, so it will be nice to finally be able to focus on those a little more.
Also, as crazy as it is, I'm going to keep trying to make something happen with my writing. I'm in the middle of editing Ridley F. Scott, and hope to have that done by the end of 2012.
The Lord is good, and my strength comes from Him alone. He's been teaching me that joy is not related to happiness, and that perseverance does not come from energy. I'm thankful He never gives up on me.
I know some people already know this, but some do not: Two weeks ago, Matt and I came to the decision that I should put in my two week notice at work. As such, yesterday was my last day, and starting on Monday I'll be at home with Declan.
There are several reasons we decided this was the best thing for our family at the time, and none of those reasons are directly related to the job. I loved the job, I loved the people I worked with, and I loved the kids. I'm going to miss it there a lot. BUT, that being said, there's not a doubt in my mind that quitting was the right decision.
Declan has essentially been sick since he started day care-- sometimes more critically sick than others, but he's not been completely healthy since starting. Because of that, I think he was having a hard time sleeping at night-- especially in his crib. While he was not exactly showing signs of wanting to sleep through the night anyway, it seemed that every time he did, shortly after he'd get really congested and be up all night again. As you can imagine, that was not exactly conducive to a steady night's sleep for me.
So, not only was Declan miserable because he was sick, but I've been absolutely exhausted between working from 8-5, getting home by 6, taking care of Declan, attempting to make dinner, getting up all night with him again, and then waking up at 6 to get him ready for the day. While I was adjusting to the insanity, these adjustments meant that I was starting to cheat on Declan a little bit.
I didn't have the sort of energy I wanted to when I came home, and play time with my little buddy was starting to turn into watching him on his play mat while I tried to stay awake. I would get frustrated more easily when he was fussy. I was not enjoying my son like I should have been, and that hit me really hard one day. I can't think of any amount of money that is worth missing my son's first and only babyhood, but what I was getting paid was not even close to making it worth it. Despite the fact that I was getting a discount on childcare, by the time that deduction came out, plus taxes, I was making a little over three hundred dollars every two weeks. Every little bit helps, but for the amount of time and energy that I was putting into the job, the time I was missing with Declan, and the frequency with which Declan was getting sick, it stopped being worth it to me.
So, despite the fact that I already miss the people at Kidz Connection, I am entirely at peace with the decision I made-- that Matt and I both made. On top of everything else, this is Matt's first year running his own classroom full of seventh graders, and that in itself is a monumental task. I know that having someone at home to keep things grounded here (and to keep dinner on the table and dishes out of the sink, haha) is going to be a big help to him.
I've actually had a few people ask me what I'm going to do with all of my spare time now. Hah! That's laughable. Declan is a full time job, and I'll happily take that on. I can't wait to get him on a more regulated schedule. I also can't wait to clean my house, because it hasn't been entirely organized since I started working. I'm also taking grad school classes, so it will be nice to finally be able to focus on those a little more.
Also, as crazy as it is, I'm going to keep trying to make something happen with my writing. I'm in the middle of editing Ridley F. Scott, and hope to have that done by the end of 2012.
The Lord is good, and my strength comes from Him alone. He's been teaching me that joy is not related to happiness, and that perseverance does not come from energy. I'm thankful He never gives up on me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)