A Birthday Surprise

Today, my family celebrated March birthdays....which includes mine. As I opened the present from my brother and sister-in-law, I tried to not get my hopes up...for the object wrapped in tissue paper was definitely the shape of a plate. I thought..."it can't possibly be THE plate...THE plate that was accidentally smashed to pieces". I pulled back the tissue paper, and there it was...

I was ecstatic (and a little emotional too). I never thought the 20 year old collectors plate would be replaceable any time soon. Thank-you Syl. :-)

Happy Birthday/Blogiversary to Me

Today is my birthday and my 4th year blogiversary. I thought I would repost a story I shared three years ago on this day. Now that my mom is no longer here, this story is that much more precious to me. Here is the story of my birth, and the miracle that happened after, as told by my mom...

On a rainy March 14th morning around 5 a.m. I was awakened out of my sleep to a soaking wet bed; my water had broken. Contractions began almost immediately and by 7 a.m. I was on my way to the hospital. By 8:15 a.m. I had very quickly delivered a healthy beautiful 7 lbs 5 oz baby girl. As I lay in recovery I was elated that I not only had had an easy delivery but a precious baby girl

My excitement however was short lived as pain began to engulf my body. The nurses first kept telling me it was after-birth pains. I tried to tell them it wasn’t because the pains were in my right leg, but they thought I was imagining it, until the pains became so intense I had to be rushed into surgery. There it was discovered that the doctor who had done the episiotomy, had by accident cut the main blood supply to my right leg and not knowing this had happened, stitched me up, and a blood clot the size of a baseball had formed. After the surgery I was placed in a private room for rest.

Around 8 that evening I suddenly felt faint, and literally could feel death overtaking me. The nurses quickly pulled back the cover to discover that my bed was saturated in blood. Hurrying my bed out of the room they tried to take my pulse, and found it only read 60 over 0. They looked at each other and said “this one is a goner”. At that moment I cried out to God in faith, I couldn’t imagine my little girl growing up and I wouldn’t be there with her, or our son. Immediately on the tile ceiling over head of me in the hall a vision appeared of Jesus and the women who touched his garment with an issue of blood and was made whole. I said “Lord, if you can do it for her, you can do it for me”.

Into the operating room I was pushed, and the surgeon who was waiting for me was amazed to discover that on its own the bleeding had stopped. By this time I had lost so much blood my body was in shock. I was very blue, very cold and my veins had collapsed. I was wrapped in oven warmed blankets and they began to give me blood transfusions only to discover my temperature had dropped so low, they had to put the blood in ice water to match my body temperature so the veins would not sting as badly.

Through this ordeal they were surprised that I never lost consciousness, but an inner voice told me it would be alright and not to go to sleep, and there was an overwhelming sense of peace. I had tried to speak to one of the nurses that my husband and I knew, but she told the doctor she didn’t know me. The next day she dropped by my room to apologize for not recognizing me. The doctor who worked on me came into my room , looked my way and went out, to ask the nurses where I was. He couldn’t believe I was the same lady. As news spread through the hospital, nurses from different floors came by to see the lady who fought death and survived. It gave us then and still now a wonderful testimony of God’s faithfulness.

Another Goodbye

Today our international student moved out.

C has been dreading this day for the last week and has begged him many times to not leave. She becomes so attached to the students we host, that I often wonder if we should be putting her through the painful goodbyes.

This last student has been amazing, and the brother-sister bond that he and C developed was deeper than the other students we have hosted. He wanted to do things with her and never seemed bothered by her crazy overwhelming energy that tires me out.

Yesterday morning C was eating breakfast when he left for school As he shut the door on his way out of the house, C yelled with a mouthful of food...

"Love you!"

I was shocked. I wondered if he heard, let alone if he would respond. There was an uncomfortable pause and then the door opened back up and he yelled back.

"Love you!"

As the door shut again, she hollered.

"I said I LIKE you."

Who needs a snow blower?

"I think HB (our international student) is on the computer."

"That's fine C. He's allowed."

"I think he's plotting against us."

"Plotting what?"

"I don't know. He's probably emailing his mother telling her how horrible we are."

"Horrible? Why would he think we're horrible?"

"Because we make him shovel the driveway."

I told C that we don't make him shovel, he does it on his own and likes to because back home, they do not get much snow. I guess I need to watch who's listening when I joke about not needing a snow blower because our student shovels the driveway.

Soccer is Not an Indoor Sport

I'm a big fan of the artist Sandra Kuck and own a few of her plates which have been given to me over the years. My favourite being the 4 plate Victorian Christmas series that I display on our fire place mantel during Christmas. The plates are usually the last decorations to be packed away (sometime in February) because I find the Christmas season is not a long enough time for me to enjoy them. This year...I wish I had packed them away with the other decorations....

Last weekend C and our current homestay student were playing in the loft with a soccer ball. It seemed so harmless...they were passing the ball back and forth. I was downstairs when I had a prompting that I should get them to settle down...but ignored it. Surely they would know to keep the ball on the ground...

Then I heard the sound I never wanted to hear...the sound of something breakable falling and smashing. I knew there was only one thing in that room that would make that noise...my beloved plates. And there on the floor was the first plate in the series smashed to pieces. Our student was horrified, hubby and I were a little speechless, and C talked for all of us...asking if it was rare and wondered if we could glue it back together.

I know it was an accident. Accidents happen. I'm sure we all have broken something that was not ours (I totalled my parents car when I was younger). There was nothing I could do about it now. I'll just have to look on ebay or in the secondary markets.

C kept asking me if it was rare. I tried to avoid the question as I didn't want to make our student feel any worse. Eventually I told her that it would be hard to replace, to which she went off downstairs. After the mess was cleaned up, C returned and proudly presented me with a gift from behind her back.

Her rendition of the plate. I couldn't help but laugh as she set her artwork in the plate stand and said..."When you get a real new one, we'll have to get a stand for this one so we can keep displaying it."

Toothpaste Antics

We seem to have a budding artist in our house...one whom likes to use toothpaste as her paint and the bathroom mirror as her canvas. I have a hard time reprimanding her about it, when the artwork is so creative. She makes up songs in front of the mirror while drawing pictures to go along with it. I figure I'll just have to teach her how to clean a mirror.

But the other day, her toothpaste antics travelled outside the bathroom.

Around lunch time, a coworker told me I had something white all over my vest. I took my vest off to look and found big white splotches all over the back of my black vest. As I fingered it, I realized it was toothpaste. I had been walking around work for half the day with toothpaste all over my back. Eek!

That night at supper, I told Hubby and C that I had found toothpaste on my vest. C hung her head and told us that she had been swinging the toothpaste around when a glob went flying...she didn't know where it landed. Now she knew it landed on my vest that had been hanging in the bathroom. This meant...I smeared the toothpaste when I put my jacket on, and sure enough...I have toothpaste all over the inside of my jacket too.

First Stitch

I have always wondered what my first experience with stitches (on my child) would be like. I know there are lots of moms out there whom are pros at this, but I'm sure there are also lots of others that have never had to experience this and wonder, as I have done, how bad will it be?

I have now been initiated into the first group of moms.

On Sunday night, I was visiting with friends when C hit her head on the corner of a bed. All the kids came racing downstairs with C crying and yelling..."My head is bleeding! My head is bleeding!" It took a few seconds for it to register that it was my kid yelling.

I have never seen a cut before that required stitches...so when we found the small gash on the back of her head, I wasn't sure what to do. One friend thought we could just put a band aid on it, the other was certain she needed a couple of stitches. I really didn't want to wait in ER for a band aid, so I took C to see my friend (a nurse) whom lived only a few minutes away (and where Hubby was watching football). She took one look at the gash and said C would need stitches.

I thought for sure we would be in ER for half the night, so I was quite pleased when we only had to wait a little over an hour. The doctor said she would put a single stitch in it, and when C started to get upset, the doctor said..."It's only a little needle. Do you want me to show her?". I took one look at the fish hook shaped needle and declined the offer thinking..."If you show her that...she'll bolt for the door.".

I was quite proud of C. She was very distraught when she first cut her head and had been adamant from the start that she did not want to go to the hospital. She does not like talking about any type of ailment...let alone blood (Not sure if some of this stems from all the time we spent with my mom at the hospital before she passed away). When it came time for the stitch, she wrapped her arms around me, buried her face in my shoulder and persevered through even though she said it hurt and she could feel it.

When it was all over, C was looking forward to school the next day to show off her hospital wrist band and tell her friends about her stitch. She also repeated back to me something I've told her in regards to other situations..."It might be the first time (for stitches)...but not the last."...I don't find that logic very comforting.

First Snow

O the excitement of the first snow fall. C had to go outside and play in it even though very little had fallen.

Grandpa's Retirement

Last Saturday night, we went to visit my dad. As we sat around the table doing a puzzle, the conversation turned to retirement...

"I don't want grandpa to retire!"

"Why"

"Because he would run out of money."

"No he won't. He'll go live with Aunt B." (my sis has an in law setup that we hint about)

"That's not fair! Aunt B gets all the good people!" (...not sure who the other good people are...)

Under my breath..."She's making my dad's day"

"What does that mean? Grandpa doesn't want to live with Aunt B?"...turning to my dad..."You can live with us. We have a spare room...and it would be a lot less noisy." (my sis has 4 kids)

I couldn't help but notice the smile on my dad's face which warmed my heart...seeing my daughter fill my dad's love tank.

C's Treasure Box

A couple of weeks ago, C was given a treasure box assignment at school. She had to decorate a shoe box, place 5 special-to-her items in the box along with her published autobiography, and then give a 5 minute speech about her box, and its contents, on presentation day.

C and I brainstormed about ideas for decorating the box...paint it, wrap it...but the idea she liked best was to cover the box with pictures of herself. We went through photo albums, and digital pictures to find her favourites. It was an interesting task as she often rejected my favourites because she deemed the photo was too embarrassing to show her class mates. I couldn't convince her that at 18 months, diaper photos are not embarrassing. In the end, I was only able to convince her to allow me to OK any pictures she put of me on the box.

C picked out 6 things to put into the box: T-shirt from Old Navy with the words Break Dance on it (reminds her of her favourite hip hop band Manafest); her very first Webkinz; a picture of Georgina, her guinea pig; her softball medal; her Build-a-Bear (named after our last Irish homestay); and her lullaby (which we have to wind up every night when we tuck her in).

I think the best part of the project was her published autobiography.

Hi, my name is C. I live in Ontario. I live with my mom and dad. I also have a pet guinea pig. My dad's name is G. He was born and raised in S-town. My mom's name is Cheri. She was born and raised in B-town.

I like a lot of colours. They are pink, blue and lime green. I like to make crafts for my friends and other things too. My favourite holidays are Christmas and Easter. I like my birthday too. My birthday is July 5th.

My family likes to do stuff together. We like to watch movies and my mom reads me bedtime stories. We also have a Bible time. We like to go to my grandma and grandpa's trailer.

My family is special because my parents know what is best for me.

I read it and then had to ask her if she really wrote the last line as I wondered if it had been prompted by the teacher...but no, that was her idea. I think I might have to frame it.