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Monday, September 27, 2010

Raising Alligator Wranglers ~



Even alligators have their own festivals here.  The kids called it a party, but Gary and I called it a serious assault to our wallet.  It has been a long time since I have been to a carnival-type setting with 2 young children, and now I know why.  Here is how our $70+ (in 1 1/2 hrs) went to use at the Alligator Festival:

$24 for the kids to ride (Reese didn't even seem to get a thrill out of them, but we might have gotten our money's worth out of Brady)



$20 for an alligator po-boy, alligator and crawfish fettucine (it was NOT good), a soft drink, and a beer



Undisclosed amount on trying to win prizes that were more appealing than what we ended up with:

The most hideous Superman doll of all time

A Reese-sized blow-up princess bat (notice the tear-streaked cheeks)

$4 for Cotton Candy, which was the only thing that got us out the gates and toward the car.  Imagine 2 adults enticing puppies with doggie treats for 1/2 mile.


$6 to play with baby alligators ~ Best $6 I've spent in a long time :)



Friday, September 24, 2010

"Mommy, Are You Going to Heaven or the Doctor?"

Children have a profound way of getting straight to the point. Toddlers aren’t capable of the abstract concepts of Heaven and death, but it was apparent that my children understood there was a difference between living and dying when they caught me walking out the door.


Their little eyes were intently waiting for an answer that would satisfy the concern behind the question. The fact that the question and anticipated response kept their undivided attention meant that they were going to wait for the response.


It took a few seconds, along with deep breaths, to turn around and face them. “Well, Mommy is going to the doctor right now. Some day we will all go to Heaven, but God decides when it is that time. Mommy thinks that she is going to be staying with you guys for awhile.”


Are we ever ready as parents to answer the questions our children ask? Below are a few of the things Gary and I have done to help Brady and Reese understand a very complicated issue.


1.Get the facts about your diagnosis and prognosis. Make sure that you know how to convey the information on a developmentally appropriate level. For example, “Mommy is taking medicine to help her heart work right.” Young children do not need to know the name, specific function, side effects, or misleading information.
2. How are you instilling hope? Are your children keenly aware that you are always miserable, or do they predominately see your good moments, even if the storm seems relentless?
3. Make sure that they understand your health is not the result of anything they have done or not done. Children tend to take on responsibility that should not fall on their shoulders.
4.  Build memories. Regardless of any circumstance or the ultimate outcome, have you left your children with a legacy of love? Do they know Jesus?  Can they see God's love, mercy, and grace in good times and bad? Every day is a learning experience for all of us.  Strive to help them see, feel, and know our Heavenly Father.




I would LOVE to hear your responses to some of the dreaded questions children pose . . . Birds and the bees . . . Does she have a baby in there? . . . How do I get a new mommy? . . . First discovery that boys and girls are different . . .
 
Happy Friday!
 
When I took this picture, Reese was singing:
I may never march in the infantry

Ride in the cavalry
Shoot the artillery
I may never fly o'er the enemy
But I'm in the Lord's army!
Yes Sir!










Monday, September 13, 2010

In Sickness and In Health

I am not sure there are a lot of people that give real thought to this statement during their wedding vows.  I don't know.  I know what it meant to me, and when I heard the Pastor saying those words during my wedding, the tears I had held back became a non-stop river.


I understood sickness.  I lived with heart disease my entire life, but did Gary understand what this meant for him?  Did he understand the lifetime promise of medical bills, hospitalizations, barriers of building a family, and that there was no guarantee that we would have a long life together?  (Of course, no one has that guarantee, but I knew what heart failure entaled)  He took his thumb, and wiped away those tears.  That was my confirmation that he understood "in sickness and in health."  And he has proven it time and time again.

I bring this up, because I had a potential encounter with an emergency room on Friday afternoon, and I realized again just how complicated every aspect of my health is after the transplant.  A migraine with nausea and vomiting might not just mean discomfort and pain, but also the inability of my body to absorb my medications, abnormal labs, potential rejection . . . I could go on and on, but I will say this.  I was alone with the kids, and the second I started vomiting (in-between breaks), I called Gary to come home.  He was on his way home immediately.  I could see the concern on his face, but he knew that I needed to take some medication and be still.  With that in mind, he entertained two 3-year olds all evening.


I don't think either of us are too surprised about anything regarding my health anymore, but I do know this . . . it takes a lot of courage to accept the responsibility of "in sickness and in health" and follow through on that promise!


Thank you, Gary

April 2006

By the way, I am fine. My labs came back normal today, and we are waiting on the final lab results to confirm their is no rejection. I am confident of this - If God can place Gary in my life on an airplane, He can most certainly bless me with the patience, perserverance, and strength I need regardless of the results.

Happy Monday!



 

Wednesday, September 08, 2010

Out with the old, and on with the poo . . .

When will the word “poo poo” not prevail in conversations with my children? Seriously. Please feel free to offer some worldly advice, because years of education and experience working with children are not cutting it. (I could make some sort of crude reference to “cutting” something, but I will refrain.)



Gone are the days of the cute sayings, sentence confusion, and mispronounced words. What happened to, “Who somebody lookin’ at me?” or “Ooooooo my gooooooodness!” Sweet innocence replaced by an obsession with our bowel movements. If I want to get a sure-fire laugh out of them, all I have to do is incorporate some kind of potty humor, and they are reduced to giggles. Not that I ever do that.


As I spoke with Lesley this morning, I discovered that my niece has already transitioned in and out of this stage by the age of 6, so I guess there is hope. However, I didn’t feel quite so hopeful as I pulled in the carpool line to drop them off for their first day of Children’s Day Out. Will I get a note from the teacher? Will they get in time out for calling another child a Poo Poo Head? What if another mother hears of their overuse of the word poop and tell their kids they can’t play with them anymore?


“Hey. Stay away from those Napolitano twins. They have potty mouths.”


If I am being perfectly honest, I am quite positive that it is all my fault. I will confess that I actually find some of the ways they incorporate this into conversation amusing. The problem is that I laughed once. That is all it takes. One little snicker, and you are sentence to a non-stop barrage of the word. Now that they know it makes me mad, they like to slip it in quietly, when I am not expecting it:


“Dear God, thank you for Momma, Daddy, kitty cats, and poo poo . . . “


Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.


Well, they are still my babies, and they are obviously budding geniuses. I would love to hear some of the unwelcome phrases, sayings, or words from your little angels. Humor me . . . but don’t squeeze in the word poop!

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Dear Donor,

I am the recipient of your heart. I don’t really know how to start this letter, because thank you seems so terribly inadequate for the life you have given back to me. I want to know everything about you, but all I know right now is that at some point in your life, you let it be known that you wanted to save lives that you didn’t even know. All I can do is tell you about me, warts and all, and hope that someday I can know more of you.


I always wonder . . . Would you have liked me? Did we have anything in common? Were you a late-night eater? I can’t seem to get enough food after 8:00 p.m., and I have often wondered if it is the steroids talking, or maybe you enjoyed a good late night snack every now and then! That is one of the questions that everyone asks me, “Is there anything different, you know, about you? Do you think that you have a different personality now that you have someone else’s heart?” Pretty silly, isn’t it? I am pretty much the same ole me with a much more powerful ticker, and a sense of purpose and commitment to glorifying God. I know that by doing this, it would also honor you.


Sometimes I wonder if it is possible that we crossed paths in the past. This is just one of the ways my mind lingers in different directions.  It amazes me that God has such an intricate plan for each of our lives, and we could not possibly put together such a purposeful plan.


I am humbled by the reality of my life continuing due to the loss of yours. What would you want me to do with my life or accomplish that would honor your legacy? Sometimes I feel a little lost, and I try to imagine what you were like, who you loved, how you lived. I know that everyone is human, but I have envisioned you as a hero. You are my hero.


My little girl, Reese, has curly red hair, long blond eyelashes, beautiful blue eyes, and a petite figure. She may be tiny, but she is mighty! Weighing in at only 3 lbs 10 ounces, she came in this world a fighter. She also has a softer side. When she looks into your eyes, you can tell how much she loves you. Sometimes she will solidify that feeling with a flick of her tongue. That has proven to be her signature sign of affection. She has quirky squeaks and a strong sensitivity to physical discomfort. I have been told that she looks exactly like me, but I don’t think that I possess the kind of sweet, vulnerable beauty that she has in her heart.


Brady is quite possibly one of the most mischievous children one could meet. He is fast, incredibly strong for his size, and lights up a room with his laugh! He seems to enjoy teasing his sister, much to her dismay. He likes to grab her beloved “baby” bear, run down the hall, stuff it behind the bed, and come out of the room like he has no idea why she is screaming. On the days he feels bold, and there are many, he simply replies with an evil cartoon voice, “You’ll never find her now! Ha Ha Ha!” He is also very bright. He can take apart and put back together just about anything, unfortunately many of my possessions have fallen victim to his ingenuity, but in the scheme of things, I am just glad he is such a happy little boy.


If it sounds like my children are exact opposites, you should meet my husband. In comparison to my personality and background, one might wonder what we would have to talk about! He is very thorough and plans for almost every purchase, trip, weekend, to the point of exhaustion (my exhaustion). I am impulsive, which can often lead to unwise decisions, but he is pretty patient with my decisive and assertive nature. I could walk into any room, and talk to anyone. Come to think about it, that is probably how I trapped him into dating me. I probably talked so much that one minute he was a single bachelor, and the next he was married with 2 children, as well as dealing with all the baggage that comes with someone on borrowed time with a bad heart. I love him, and I want you to know that he will help me take care of this precious gift that I have received from you.


I guess I will leave the details for the rest of my writing. I have been surrounded by a network of amazing people and unbelievable circumstances. Thank you for the gift of life.


Your heart always amazes me, and I hope it is ok with you that I have accepted it as my own . . . for now.
Love,
Jamie