Emergency Room Visit Number 1

Oh man, do I feel badly.

This morning I was supposed to meet my friend Cathi and her children (Cailey and Nate) at the Cosley Zoo. It's a nice small zoo, but because it's so small (and because it's a free zoo) it has very few parking spaces.

So I found a parking spot this morning and opened the trunk to get Morgan's stroller (mostly to haul her stuff, not her). I was deeply in Mom-Zone-Outville when I used a great heft and slammed the trunk shut. But the trunk bounced back up. Apparently Morgan had seen fit to run around to the back of the car and managed to stick her head right in the trunk just as I put the lid down. I hit her square on the top of her noggin with the thin edge of the trunk.

Please, officer, arrest me now.

She paused for a second, dazed. Then she held her head with both hands and wept strongly.

I felt simultaneously angry at her and angry at me. Grrr. I used a lot of force to slam that trunk.

Called the pediatrician who told me to go directly to the emergency room. Said I may have fractured her skull. We took a trip to the E.R. and I'm pleased to announce that she is declared healthy and fine. Whew.

I took her to McDs (oh yes- TOTALLY out of guilt) and gave her nuggets, fries and a milkshake for lunch. Anything to make her day less ouchy.

As we got in and out of the car again, Morgan said to me, "Don't shut me in the door, Mom. Remember when you did that? Remember when you shut my head in the trunk? That was so funny."

Oooooo.

I tried not to tear up. "No. No, it was not funny, Morgan. Mommy is sorry."

When I had sufficiently begged her forgiveness, I told her that that is why we have to be careful in the street.

I'm sure that won't be our last visit to the E.R.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to give myself a time out.

Makeup

Morgan loves makeup.

Yesterday I let her play with my eyeshadow while I dozed on her bed. I was exhausted. I told her she could put it on my hand. When I woke up, I looked in the bathroom mirror and something was different with my face. It took a sec to realize it, but apparently Morgan had connected my eyebrows with brown eyeshadow while I was sleeping. I had a unibrow. Nice.

And this morning, I couldn't find some of my makeup. Turns out my pilfering partner had borrowed some more eyeshadow and lip gloss.

I was pretty impressed, actually. She made this getup dresser herself by dumping out three bins of toys (ugh) and stacking them. Then she put a box on top of her chair to lift her face to eye level with the mirror on the wall. Pretty innovative, I thought. She's like her daddy. Except that he likes RED lip gloss.

Honeydo

I don't know of any man who doesn't feel inundated by his wife with "honey do" lists.

"Honey, please hang my new pictures on the wall."

"Honey, please fix the leak in the bathroom."

"Honey, please cut the grass."

The list is never ending.

In an effort to encourage my husband that a) I don't need everything I say at once and b) The list in my head IS somewhat organized, I found an online help: Gubb.net. On this site, you can post lists and share it with others. On my list, I included due dates and prices of things. Aren't I a good wife? (*ahem- Chime in ANYTIME, dear.)

At the very least, dear husband can see that the list in my head, albeit large, has somewhat of an end in sight. I'm not trying to work him to the bone. *sigh* It just works out that way. Besides, if he weren't so durn talented, I wouldn't have to solicit his help. (Enter Damsel in Distress face here.)

So hub, meet gubb.

Mirror, mirror

It's been a little difficult to live in my house lately. I don't mean it in the roof-leaking, no-electricity sort of way. I mean it purely in the American dream, Pottery Barn catalog, forget about the other needs in the world sort of way.

I want stuff.

I know, I know. It sounds so trivial and shallow of me. But for the past 5 months I have been "decorating" with corrugated cardboard boxes and using my "homemaking" money towards more important things... like funding the salaries of fertility docs, who are a charity all their own, let me tell ya.

But this past week, I did something that I do once in a while: I prayed about our decor. I know, it's lame, right? Well, not really. If anyone does any investigating into the building of the Tabernacle, they'll see that God cares an awful lot about beauty and precision.

The design problem I was having was that ever since we bought this home, I haven't been able to figure out what to do with our 2-story ceiling in the living room. Everything I put above the mantle looks dwarfed in size. I need something BIG.

So, last week Dan and I were window shopping in Restoration Hardware and we saw this beautiful mirror on clearance for, in mirror terms, a pittance. One can easily spend $600 on a classic large mirror. I had already been saving up my shekels dollars toward this effort. And this one was one super duper discount. They couldn't sell us their mirror at the Naperville location, but they found one in the city which we will pick up on Saturday. It's 4 feet x 6 feet! Here's a rough image of it, but ours will be black.



So, in keeping with my Jewish themed post, I said "Oy vey! We'll take it!" As of Saturday, I will be completely happy with our decor. For an hour. ;)

Overheard

Morgan chanting this mantra with paintbrushes in hand: "We're going to be arters! We're going to be arters!"

Translation: We're going to be artists.

Dollface

Today I did something that I rarely do: I clicked on a yahoo advertisement.

I found it intriguing. Apparently Gwen Stefani has armed forces with HP. And being such a big Stefani fan (ha- I don't think I can even name ONE of her songs) I thought, "What in the name of all things CMYK would cause a rocker mother to ally herself with a printer?"

It was pretty groovy, actually. If you go to this site, you'll have your choice of making paper dolls or some other print collateral.

Here's a paper doll I made of Dan.

I mean me. It's me, I tell ya. Me, in my WAY younger days. A word of caution: while they do have a variety of RACES of dolls, they seem to lack different AGES. Apparently their constituents don't care for the aged, slightly aged or elderly.

So go ahead, play dolls.

Stirred, not Shaken

It has been fairly quiet on the Dykstra homefront. Finally. The gentle rhythm of the everyday mayhem is much preferred to the gusts of disaster which have sweeping our house this past year.

In fact, today I am a bit homebound from a touchy back. My family is at church so I am alone. It's quiet and beautiful this Sunday morning. My husband's firm instructions were "to rest". What he meant to say was "stay in bed" but I'm doing my version of resting: I'm baking bread from scratch. In reminds me of beauty and that is what I want in my home right now. Beauty.

All is quiet on the fertility front as well. We have a few options but we're not rushing into things. We're enjoying a little peace for now.

I have an occasional call from a friend who asks shyly how we're doing. They want to know what's happening on the fertility front. We're not telling many; we like the peace. Then they want to know how we'll handle another pregnancy. What they really want to know is what if "it" happens again. I even had one friend who told us to stop trying. She meant well. She's just afraid.

But today is Sunday. And it is a day of rest. I'm not afraid of the future. God's arm is never too short to save.

"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace..." Hebrews 12:28

Ode to Brownie

Brownie: Good or Evil?

If a brownie is cooked correctly (part fudgy, part cakey) then you can't possibly cut it smoothly. Any cut into a sheet of freshly cooked brownie will result in a crumbly, yet devastatingly moist edge. The boundaries lines between one brownie and the next are at best jagged.

The innocent "Oh, just one brownie" taste leads to the "Oh just one more." Lured by a chocolate induced coma, even the most self-controlled of us is forced to reckon with the hazy grid: Where does one brownie end and the next begin? The boundary-less decadence takes the eater down a slippery slope of conscience numbing noshing. At last, pleading with the scales to keep the secret, the guilty gorger slides into a happy state of seratonin.

Blockbuster

I signed up for Blockbuster online this past year. I really like the convenience of getting movies in the mail and having the choice of returning them to the store or simply sticking them back in the mailbox when I'm done. It's a groovy program and I give it an "A".

It appears, however, that someone has taken over my Blockbuster Queue. Where I used to receive a multitude of acceptable chick flicks or old Frasier episodes, I now find myself the confused recipient of such titles as **"The Day the Earth Stood Still" and "Forbidden Planet".

My husband, in a gesture of welfare, thought that my movie selections were somewhat limiting. And so he revamped our queue so we will have a more well rounded diet of chick flick, adventure and classic sci-fi.

I'm not opposed to expanding my visual palette, but let's just say that the space pace of these films delivers one from insomnia.

* Admit it, husband... YOU fell asleep, too.

** Anyone who said "hurrah" to either of these titles should take a bath. And anyone who who said "hurrah" to either of these titles and is currently married should consider themselves fortunate.

Laundry Limerick

There once were two dames from Aurora
Who found to their uttermost horror
That the laundry grew large
So a toll they did charge
To pass the great Mount of Aurora

*No propping, photo manipulation or staging of child was used in the taking of these photos. Also, no animals were killed. An errant fairy godmother was innocently maimed, however.

Fam Photos

Hubba Hubba Husband.

Married with Child: 7 Years.


Morgan liked playing mini golf at the company picnic. I'd be lying if I said she actually putt it in there. A series of putts, coercions and actual handing of the ball managed to get the ball to its destination.

Bean There

Morgan was excited to go downtown. Her first Metra train ride!












We likey the bean.












Morgan likey herself.

Lobotomy, please.

I have a confession: I have been avoiding my blog.

It's not that I don't have anything to write. It's just that everything I have to write seems to fall in one of three catgeories:
1. Too complainy to write about
2. Too complicated to write about
3. Too boring to write about (even I don't want to hear about it... why would anyone want to read it?)

Example: Dan left for work this morning and as he was pulling out of the garage we discovered that someone keyed the hood of his car. Grrrr. MORE insurance work? Dan was too tired to deal with it and will probably just patch it up himself.

Throughout the day you'll find me giving myself pep talks while addressing insurance issues (medical, home, etc.)

Em's Angel: "You can do it, Em... You can see that even though this salesperson is not making sense and trying to talk you under the table, you can still treat them with respect."

Em's Devil: "NO. You deserve better. This ignoramus better fork over some compensation for having to put in a THIRD dishwasher. Go for the jugular!"

And then there's the "What would Jesus do?" question. What would Jesus do? Jesus would install a state of the art dishwasher with a snap of his fingers and simultaneously call hellfire and brimstone on the Mr. Schmoozy Salesperson. That's what Jesus would do.

*sigh* Okay, okay. He wouldn't do that last part. Just the first part.

So please, gentle friends, tell me good things to think about. I need a shift in thinking.

Gourmet?

Today I served Morgan grapes for lunch. The grapes had been in the fridge a while, but they were plump and ripe. I didn't think twice about serving them to Morgan.

(Enter ominous music here.)

The grapes had been getting cozy with the fresh dill. There was hardly a grape flavor left at all. I didn't notice until she had eaten roughly twenty. Then I tried one.

So here's to produce getting jiggy in the crisper. Dill flavored grapes anyone?

Morganisms

Emily: "Morgan, do you know why you're in time out? You were yelling at Mommy. That's NOT okay. Do you understand?"

pause

Morgan: "How about hitting?"

Contractor at Large

AURORA, IL

Contractor at Large

A contractor in Aurora, IL scheduled to do a routine install of a dishwasher found the unit to be dented in the home of Dan and Emily Dykstra this past weekend. Said installer pushed the new dented unit into the dishwasher stall, but decided that completely turning off the pipe to the water line would be too much effort. A large puddle on the kitchen hardwoods ensued and was found by Mrs. Dykstra upon arriving home from the airport with houseguests. Puddles continued for three hours until it was noticed that pipe was not completely off. Feeling that seeing the dented dishwasher all weekend would drive her mad, Mrs. Dykstra had dishwasher placed in foyer as a modern sculpture.

Mrs. Dykstra is appealing to the second law of thermodynamics for release from entropy.

ANNIVERSARY WEEK: DAY ONE

In the hubbub of the weekend, I neglected to post the last reason I love Dan.

DAY ONE: Good kisser

Nuff said. :)

ANNIVERSARY WEEK: DAY TWO

DAY TWO: Great Voice

Many friends may not know this, but I fell in love with Dan's voice before I even met him. He was singing behind me in chapel at Calvin College, where we both attended. Throughout chapel I kept thinking, "Mmmm... what a voice!"

After chapel concluded, I looked behind me and fortune smiled*: a voice AND good looks. My resident assistant was sitting next to Dan. They were friends. Pretending to say hello to my R.A., I went over and struck up a conversation. Dan and I were introduced and became fast friends.

We didn't actually start dating until after we both graduated from Calvin, but that's another story.

I fell in love with his voice. I still love it.


*"fortune smiled"- a Dan term

ANNIVERSARY WEEK: DAY THREE

DAY THREE: Good Communicator/Fights Fairly

Dan doesn't yell. He simply doesn't consider it a reasonable way to communicate.

Early on in our marriage, I spent too much on something. I honestly expected him to yell at me. My body braced for it.

All he said to me was, "Emily, I'm really disappointed. I think you spent too much."

Ugh.

"You're not going to yell at me?" I asked.

He replied, "What? No. I don't yell. I didn't grow up yelling and I don't want it in our family."

Without disparaging my upbringing, I have to confess that when 7 people share an abode, there is bound to be some "loud sharing of thoughts".

Dan fights fairly. He doesn't yell. He doesn't bring up the past. His only thought is how we can resolve the issue amicably.

ANNIVERSARY WEEK: DAY FOUR

DAY FOUR: Financial Responsibility-ness

(It IS a word, I tell ya.)

When I first met Dan, I was a poor struggling single woman who had a hard time understanding how to budget. After we had been dating a while, he offered to help me put together a budget. He didn't make fun of my low salary. He showed me how I could work it. He was even positive about it and made me feel good about my financial decisions.

In our marriage, he has maintained a somewhat old-fashioned notion that we don't spend what we don't have. Laughing... it may look ridiculous to most people, but that is why I still drive an old Toyota Corolla. It's paid for. One day soon we hope to get a minivan, but for now, it's the Corolla.

He taught me about responsible debt (mortgage) and irresponsible debt (meaningless spending on the credit card just for the sake of spending).

Considering that financial trouble is one of the main stressors in marriage, I'm glad that my husband has a good head on his shoulders for, er, "financial responsibility-ness".

Fertility Doc

Hi, friends-

I went to the fertility doc today with Dan.

I know I'm normally pretty open about things, but today I don't feel like sharing.

It's not bad. It's not good. I just don't feel like sharing.

So thank you for your phone calls and emails, but today I'm going to rest and think. And probably pray.

Three's a Crowd

Persian leopard triplets were born. Out of curiosity, I went to the site to see the photos. Almost every photo of the 12 photos posted shows them looking rather, well, grumpy. Or ticked. Or hissing. They are NOT nice.

Triplets. I bet that poor leopard mother is tying her tubes as we speak.

Don't be hatin'

My zainy sister's crazy boyfriend is at it again:

http://absolutesilly.blogspot.com/2007/08/1-million-things-i-hate.html

ANNIVERSARY WEEK: DAY FIVE

DAY FIVE: Humility

I know, I know- you're surprised, right? He's goofy and cynical. Well, underneath that tough exterior is one humble man.

In college, Dan took a job at Toys R Us. Picture a 6'6" tall guy whose only interests are business and (I'll be honest) getting a date. But in order to earn money for his classes, Dan took a job at Toys R Us as well as at an Italian restaurant. He drove around an old car and bought oatmeal in bulk sacks so he could afford to go to school. (His parents were unaware of his situation and, in retrospect, would have given him money for more groceries in case you're wondering.)

To this day, I appreciate how anywhere Dan has gotten in life he has arrived with two feet planted humbly on the ground working very hard.

Anniversary Week: DAY SIX

DAY SIX: Humor

I like cynicism and Dan is full of cynical humor. He has a way of making a terrible situation into a very funny one with his off the wall humor.

Example: The hymn "In the Garden" is one that I can't sing in church without Dan making me laugh. He mimes a beer swigging singer as we hash through the chorus: "and he walks with me and he talks with me". I know it's one of those cherished oldies, but I can't seem to find any reverence in that song b/c of my incredibly funny husband.

Morganisms

Tonight I was hurrying to get Morgan to bed. I was eager to rest and take a relaxing bath. She had just bathed, dressed and I was in the process of reading her nightly ration of 3 books. The theme of the first two books was "best friends", a concept that I don't think she had ever thought of.

"Do you have a best friend, Morgan?" I asked her.

I'll never forget her response.

She nodded, smiled and pointed shyly at me. "You are."

*sigh* So this is why people become parents.

_________________________________

Morgan: "Mom, can you show me my brain?"

Emily: (Pointing to the top of her head) "It's right here, Morgan. Right here."

Morgan: "No, I mean the insides. I want to see my brain."

Seven

It's Anniversary Week!

Today marks SEVEN days until our SEVENTH anniversary. Each day this week I will give one reason or story about why I love Dan.

DAY ONE: Enthusiasm

When I first met Dan, I noticed that he was different from other guys. Somehow Dan was able to show enthusiasm in everything he did without negating his manliness. To put it in "Dan" terms: he showed some zest for life without "revoking his guy card".

Morgan

Many of you have asked where Morgan's name came from and I thought I'd address it in this posting.

Okay, I lied. Nobody asked.

Many years ago (pre-Morgan years) Dan and I were at a dinner with some friends talking about baby names. We weren't even THINKING about having children yet, but Dan opined that he always thought "Morgan" was a pretty girl name. The name struck a chord in me. In true movie-like fashion, the rest of the conversation around the dinner table seemed to blur as I mouthed to my husband, "You like that name? I like that name, too!" We gave each other a goofy grin which indicated that we had just entered an unofficial pact.

What's more... we couldn't think of anyone bad named Morgan: Morgan Freeman. Morgan Fairchild. Good name.

A few years later as I was struggling to deliver our child into the world, Dan and I were told that we were about to have a baby boy. We were pretty disappointed about this for the sole reason that we weren't sold on our boy's name. I'm not even going to TELL you what the name is in case your dog, child, father, goldfish or husband is of the same name. Point is: we no likey the boy's name. We really likey the name Morgan.

We were both relieved that Morgan was a girl. In retrospect, Morgan is a unisex name and we could have used it for either gender. But I was hepped up on happy juice in the delivery room and Dan was one tired testosteroney. We weren't thinking too clearly.

It took me 32 years to like my own name, which I considered prissy. I wanted any daughter of mine to have a name that sounded strong and educated. Plus, in German her name means "morning" which I thought was beautiful. I'd be lying if I said that this German meaning had any bearing whatsoever on our choice of her name. Someone pointed that out to me after she was born and I nodded as if it was intentional.

To this day, I still enjoy saying her name. I've whispered it to her, screamed it at her, said it with gritted teeth and sang it to her in opera like fashion. I like it every time I say it no matter how I say it.

So there you have it. Now you know that I like to save face and the reasoning behind the name "Morgan".

For the love of Morgan

Morgan is at the age where she can remember her childhood.

She is also at the age where I find myself doing things to her that I always disliked my parents doing to me. And I'm truly afraid she will pass on these idiosyncrasies:

1. Licking her ice cream cone so it would stop dripping.
I did manage to convince Morgan that we were a "team" and that I needed to "clean up" her ice cream cone. I do recall my parents doing exactly the same maneuver, gobbling up the lions share of my cold treat.

2. Wetting a napkin with my own saliva in order to wipe something sticky from her face.
Ewww and double ewwww.
Question: Why do I do this?
Answer: Because the child is sticky and needs to be cleaned.
Question: Isn't that making her more dirty?
Answer: Shush.

3. Shushing.
Parents never stop talking. They talk and talk and talk. Rarely do they stop and say, "And what do you think Georgie?" Instead, they encourage children to stick something in their mouth or watch TV so they can finish their conversation. Hello, childhood obesity. All due to the "shush".

4. Referring to the spouse as "Daddy" or "Mommy" instead of their name.
Okay, this is just creepy. Dan and I swore we wouldn't do this. We'll be talking to each other in front of Morgan and actually call each other "Daddy" or "Mommy". And then we feel really dirty.

So there you have it. The confessions of a mother who promised herself that she would "never" and finds herself "always" doing these maternal curiosities.

Oh, for the love of Morgan.

Good Night

Dan and I have been out of whack all week.

You know- W.H.A.C.K. Wife and Husband Attack Chaos Kunundrum

We've been playing the invisible game of spousal tennis, swatting at this problem and that. And the score ain't love, let me tell you. Our conversations this week have been somewhat sporadic:

Dan's communication with me have been related to waterfalls in our basement. His deep bass voice has taken octaves that I haven't heard him reach in a while- roughly two octaves above middle C.

My communications with him have mostly been rants about the universe and why I can't see my fertility doc, why my toe took a nose dive and why everything seems to be malfunctioning at once.

So our communications to each other have been either very animated or very tired. Not very normal. Energy draining you might say.

But tonight, as all the planets in God's great sky aligned, Dan and I did something amazing.
We smiled at each other.
Then we went out for ice cream as a family.
And in a rare spousal eclipse, we both agreed on how to decorate our new living room– the room which currently gives evidence to the Big Bang theory of creation.

It's a good night, friends. It's a good night.

The House that Smack Built

My oh my. I knew today would be a doozy. Several times before noon today I asked that if Jesus came back soon he would come back on a day like today.

It's too late to write for entertainment. Here it is in a nutshell:

1. By jove, it was the sump pump. A plumber replaced it in 15 minutes. Apparently builders don't install the highest quality. Who knew?

2. The water is somewhat gone from the basement, but the rugs are, you know... rugs. Absorbent. Cleaner coming tomorrow along with insurance adjuster.

3. Got the dishwasher installed. It's not working quite right so they'll put in a new one in a week. Laughing... when the installers told me that it was defective, I started laughing and belted out a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" to myself. (The dishwasher is part of my birthday present.) The guys looked a little confused, but gave a courtesy smile.

4. Purple toe.

Now my husband likes to say that "it could always be worse". Sometimes he says this at inopportune times when I want to belt him, but I'll try to see the positive:

1. Morgan is still potty trained.

2. I'm married to an amazingly handsome...er...compassionate man.

3. The purple hue that my toe has taken is quite lovely. I like purple.

4. I have some amazing friends who will take care of Morgan tomorrow while I get jiggy with insurance.

And Then the Rain Came

http://tinmandan.blogspot.com/

Toe Jam

TOE 1: Captain, we have a problem.

BIG TOE: What is it Lieutenant?

TOE 1: It's the stomach. She's getting too much attention. We need a diversion and quick.

BIG TOE: I take it you have an idea.

TOE 1: I'm willing to take one for the team, Sir.

BIG TOE: Are you sure it's worth it, Flipper? Do the metatarsals know?

TOE 1: There's no other way, sir. We need to regain our ground. Permission to sprain?

BIG TOE: *sigh* Permission granted. And godspeed.

_________________________

Translation: Slipped at the pool today. Apparently my feet want more attention.

Disclaimer: The white stuff on my foot is the sticky goo from the tape that I used on my foot. Or maybe its fungus.

TP

When life gives you toilet paper, write a friend's name.

Wonderful Morgan

This morning Morgan made "grass". She took a piece of paper and cut the edges into thin strips so that it appeared to have a furry, grassy edge.

"Look, Mom! I made grass!" she said proudly.

"You made GRASS? YOU MADE GRASS?" I made a big deal of it. I took her in my arms and swung her around in my swivel chair praising her all the while: "I'm so proud of you! You're so smart... and creative... and funny... and pretty... and kind... and wonderful! You did great!" We laughed as we spun. She smiled and continued on her merry way as I went back to work.

A few minutes later she came back to me: "Mom, look! I made grass again! You want to do that loving again? That telling me that I'm wonderful?"

You slay me, Morgan.

Of course.

Restrictions?

It has been a very odd week. In some ways very full and in other ways very bare.

It appears that my acid reflux is raising its ugly head again and so I'm enjoying vast amounts of bananas and rice. So I'm restricting my diet.

I'm also restricting my wallet. I confessed to myself that I didn't really NEED to spend all this money on the house right now (I have piles of purchases that I haven't even USED). I am on a self-imposed fast from buying home related paraphernalia for 2 weeks. In retrospect, I'm pretty sure that I used buying as an excuse to make me feel in control of something. But "one's life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses" (Luke 12:15) no matter WHAT Pottery Barn's Bed and Bath catalog tells me.

Even with all these restrictions, I feel oddly full. Friends have reached out to us in both small and large ways. A very heart felt thank you to those of you who have told me via blog comment, email or by mouth that you are praying for us. It means a great deal. It was hard to enjoy my "party of one" pity fest yesterday with so many kind people contacting us.

Thanks for all your demonstrations of love. I should have everyone over for dinner sometime. I make a mean banana rice casserole. :)

Laughter= Good Meds

Beauty and the Beast meets Mommy Dykstra. You won't get this unless you've seen Beauty and the Beast. Like 100 times.

Morgan: "Mom! I set certain rules and I 'spect those rules to be obeyed. Now you stay in jail. You'll join me for dinner."

__________________________________________

Morgan (fully convinced): "Mom, if you brush your hair, maybe your hair will grow long."

We have a Dora the Explorer book where Dora's hair grows as she uses a magic hairbrush. She makes no bones about it: She wants her momma to have longer hair.

__________________________________________

Lincoln Brewster sings a song called "Everlasting God".
The lyrics include:
"Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
Wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord "

Some people sing "watermelon, watermelon" when they don't know the lyrics. Not my daugther. She makes up words.
Morgan's version: "Mom let's listen to that song: 'Feela fon alonnanna the Lord'."

Doc Update

My doc had to reschedule the visit to next Wednesday. Apparently she broke her shoulder.

Tuesday

If you were a fly on the wall of my house, you would see me being mother to Morgan and attending to the laundry. I'm perpetually in motion, trying to keep house.

But inside, I am very still.

On Tuesday Dan and I will meet with our fertility doctor. Ever since January 27, it's been a long year.

I was grateful for the move from our old house. It gave me a brief distraction, even an excuse to put my emotions on hold from our series of miscarriages. I didn't want those terrible verdicts from the doctor to echo in my head anymore.

I told myself we could work with the fertility doc after we moved.
And then I told myself we could work with her after Dan got his new job.
And then after we got insurance worked out.
Finally, after I could feel some of the hell slipping away, I found myself giving fluid samples to various doctors and novice nurses who claim that my blood will tell them what I achingly want to know: Why?

I don't need hope. I don't need patience. I don't even need a laugh. I just need answers.

I'm not alone in this sentiment. Roughly three decades ago, Mrs. Karen Dykstra had reached the decision that she may not be able to bring a pregnancy to term. She had had her own fertility and loss issues and was in the process of adopting when she became pregnant. Fearing that this pregnancy, too, may not see the light of day, she continued the process of adopting her (and our) beloved Jill, fresh from Korea.

Jill came to the family in October of 1974 and the family was filled with gladness and fullness. My mother-in-law continued to swell with the gentle growth of Dan as she held her beautiful new daughter. I often wondered if she tried to ignore her pregnancy so that she would not worry. She had to hide her pregnancy from the adoption agency or they may keep Jill from them. And she wanted Jill. Perhaps she had to hide the pregnancy from her own emotions in the event that it didn't come to fulfillment.

Dan came 29 days after Jill, two months prematurely.

My sister-in-law will modestly joke that Dan was the "crown prince", a nomination given him by his grandparents. The words sting a little, I'll be honest. Jill doesn't realize that her arrival filled her parents hearts greatly. Furthermore, it's very possible that Jill, the fresh new bundle of joy from Korea, was her mother's saving grace as Dan grew in the womb. And it's also very possible that Dan came early because the joy from his mother's heart spoke to him in utero and he just had to meet his fiesty new sister.

I'm unsure what our family story will be, what our next chapter of life will hold. I look into the eyes of my young daughter and hope that someday a little fetus will have the strength to meet her, be held by her and, in all likelihood, be bossed around by her.

For now my only request is this: Tuesday, please come quickly.

New Addition

We have an addition to the family! No, do not say the "p" word... we bought a dishwasher! Yippee.

In an all time record low, Dan and I found and bought an appliance in 10 minutes flat.

Okay, okay... so I did a LITTLE research beforehand, but once I saw what I wanted, I gave Dan that pleading Bambi look and he gave me his tired "You want it? Fine, get it" look. Hooray for tiredness.

Here's our new baby. And it's not just a pretty face either: I hear that it actually washes dishes.

Dan Goes to Work

Dan tries to get out the door this morning, but Morgan had this to say:

Morgan: "Daddy, you can't leave for work! We're a family. We need a Morgan and a Mommy AND a Daddy!"

A guilt-ridden Dan left for work.

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My sister Noel and her husband Shane were in town briefly. Shane left for a downtown conference earlier than Noel. So Morgan and I dropped Noel off at the train station yesterday afternoon so she could meet up with Shane.

As we dropped Noel off, Morgan began to cry, "I don't want this to be happening! I don't want this to be happening! Why does she have to go?"

That little bugger got me all teared up, too.

August is... Health Month!

Don't call Oprah. And no, you won't find any Hallmark cards for this one... I self-dubbed August "Health Month".

I have a friend (who I'll leave unnamed unless she says otherwise) who is a fertility sidekick for me. We've both had a trying year. The medical community would call our situation "yucky". In any case, August is our "be good to self" month.

Here's how you know if you're in need of health changes:

1. If you consider walking to the laundry room your "exercise" for the week.
2. If you eat only when standing or moving.
3. If you fall asleep reading every night and have been on the same book chapter for 3 months.
4. If you remember (to the ounce!) how much medication your husband or child needs but can't for the life of you remember to take your vitamins.
5. If the only magazines you read have titles that include "home", "garden", "weight loss" or "easy dinners".
6. If your idea of a new recipe is trying a new brand of hotdogs.
7. If you munch food you don't really want when on the phone... because its there.

Here's some of my goals for health month:
- Exercise 20-30 minutes 3 times a week.
- To take my vitamins every day.
- To be good to my body: rest when necessary. (I drive myself too hard in household work and need to reserve energy for other things...like reading.)
- Eat sitting down, not in front of the kitchen countertop.
- Eat more slowly. (For the love of Pete- it takes Morgan a good 30-45 minutes to eat. What's the rush?)

Other options for health month:
- Encourage HUMOR (movies, etc.) (I LOVE the movie "Spanglish".)
- Read good things that don't have to do with domesticity. (Currently reading "Company Car".)
- Make a new recipe of something healthy
- And once in a while, to take the new healthy recipe I just made and put a stick of butter in it.

So there you have it: Health Month. Be good to yourselves, friends.

Happiness is...

...being married to Dan Dykstra. And have him come home from out of town business.

...playing Candyland with Morgan and Dan. And watching Morgan kick butt at this game of chance.

...having my sister and brother in-law come into town today!

...being an American. Lyrics by Bruce Springstein.

...having health. And healthcare.

...having friends. Especially ones who take the edge off my pessimism.

...being married to Dan Dykstra, completer of my sentences.