Seventeen

When I was seventeen, I was certain I had arrived.

Everything was better than it had ever been before.  I wanted to freeze time where it was and just love my life for the rest of my life.

A few years ago, Brad Paisley released a song called "Letter to Me," in which he sings the words to a letter he wishes he could send to his seventeen-year-old self to encourage him to hang in there and make good choices so he could enjoy his future fully when he got there.  I've loved that song from the first time I heard it.  Recently, a line from "Letter to Me" has come to my mind as inspiration from the Spirit of God.

I'm about to go to bed for the night.  It's a little after 1AM, and all three of my bedlamites are asleep in their beds.  It was a hard fought fight tonight.  All day really.  Someone dumped water on the floor - two or three separate times - someone spent five minutes spraying the bathroom mirror with stain remover when he should have been washing his hands, someone wouldn't eat anything but applesauce for dinner.  But then there was the sweet little conversation I had with one when I caught her being sweet with her baby sister, and the time I got to spend on the phone while the other played quietly and contentedly with tinker toys in the living room.

Then I got to be there for my daughter, who is mostly teaching herself now how to use the toilet, when she woke up just a few minutes ago crying.  I was able to listen to the Spirit telling me she needed to use the potty.  Then I discovered that the diaper was dry and was able to celebrate with her for going successfully - while trying to keep her from falling asleep and off the toilet before I could re-diaper her and help her back to bed.  I got to be there with her and share in her success, even at a time when we both would rather have been sleeping.

As my thoughts moved at last toward bed time, the song line from the climax of "Letter to Me" came to my mind and made me smile "these are no where near the best years of your life."

That's right, seventeen-year-old Ashley, you have no idea what you're in for.  It's heart-rending, and it's messy, but it's soul-expanding.

And it's awesome.

Pioneer Day

Let's Make A Covered Wagon!

http://www.thecraftyclassroom.com/CraftPioneerWagon.html

Monkey Glue

We hear the sound of C pounding on the baby gate and we wonder to ourselves how long it will be before she is actually successful.
David (chuckling to himself): Unglued.  That's a good word.  Unglued is how I feel sometimes when I realize I can't contain them anymore. ... Staple them to the floor.
Ashley: When I feel myself coming unglued, sometime I do push-ups. It helps.
David (still smiling): I just want to duct-tape them to the wall.
Ashley: I want you to know, sometimes I feel like that too.
David: I know!  The fact that you don't come unglued all the time is a miracle to me!  I think, What does she use?  It isn't Elmer's.  It must be monkey glue to survive the monkeys!

Unpleasant Surprise

Forgive the lack of artistry in this post - I'm typing one-handed.

As of last night I am certain Baby is sensitive to both dairy and gluten.  I have already ruled out peanuts, so I figured today I would try an experiment to see if soy should also be avoided (found out that soy milk has dairy in it! Why??).  So, I had part of a sandwich on gluten free bread that had soy in it with mayo (also soy based).

THEN I read the label of the mayo.  I had assumed (dumb!) the mayo was safe because the mayo I usually get is.  But this stuff was left over from when my sister was here, and "May have traces of" a bajillion potential allergens, including wheat, dairy, and almonds (which I was also hoping to rule out today).

POISONED!  I am so careful I'm not eating enough - I know that's wrong, I am trying to find a balance - so I can be sure what allergens are a fault for which reactions, and then I trip and fall on my face. Grrr! (Shaking fist in Walmart's general direction.)  Really it's my fault for not being more careful.

Fast forward about five hours to me startling a nearby Charlotte with the noise I make as I try to contain yet another explosion of spit-up as it shoots out. Then I hurry to the sink in case she has any more where that came from, because there is no absorptive capacity left in the shirt I was wearing.  I had taken it off after she creamed it twice so I could use it as a burp cloth through the rest of the feed.

Now she's filling her pants, which makes sense.  I think I've figured out that gluten causes her to puke and gives her a rash, while dairy causes some spitting up and gives her the runs.  Yuck.

Lesson learned, I guess.  If you want to eat the right things, you've got to create them yourself!