Amazing Hair

Last night I gave Kristen a bath. So much more fun when you have to bag and wrap a cast, but she is really good about keeping her arm out of the water as much as possible. Her hair got washed and when it was still damp, I bunched her hair up into a scrunchie. This is what it looked like this morning after taking the scrunchie out. Beautiful.

Kristen has invented her own little frustration word. I think it came about as a combination of "dangit" and "pooey" (which her sisters are strongly discouraged from saying). Her word is "puhney". It sounds pretty cute when she gets upset and says, "Oh, puhney!" I think it will become one of those words that sticks and becomes a part of a family's language. Hmmm, kind of like "Misha".

It isn't fair

Yesterday we were leaving the hospital after visiting Chris and Cindy Molloy and their new baby. Chris had his fruit phone (aka Blackberry) clipped to his waistband and had to keep hitching his pants up because he forgot to wear a belt. He started exercising recently and after FOUR sessions, his waistband was already getting too loose. If that wasn't bad enough, his next comment of, "Four more times exercising, and I'll be right where I want to be." Can you believe it? He's saying that to someone who could be classified as an exercise-fanatic-making-little-progress!!!! Grrrrrr

My two-year old

So I thought I was being a really nice mom by checking out a music CD for Kristen to listen to. That was a big mistake. I tried to tell her that it was just music and no movie. That set her to crying and wailing for a movie. It didn't help when I turned the tv on to show her that there were no "pictures" with this CD, and she just happened to glimpse Sponge Bob Square Pants before I could change the channel and thought that was the movie. More crying. More wailing. It is soooooo frustrating trying to reason with a two-year old!

We went to our new library yesterday for story time. If you haven't been to check it out, you need to go. HOWEVER, (I need to be able to underline that too to give it enough emphasis) the workers there are very adamant that children under 12 are not to be left alone. If you want to look around, don't take your kids. Those ladies will find you faster than a flea on a hound dog, AND they won't hesitate to give you a lecture. But I digress. Kristen hasn't had story time with Miss Jan since last November when they closed things down to get ready to move. As usual, Miss Jan gave a sticker to Kristen when story time was over and stuck it on her hand . It was a dog sticker (and being the supportive, interested mom that I am), I asked her what was on her sticker--thinking, of course, that she would say "dog". Her response, "My arm." Can't argue with that.

Good thing her cute moments balance out the not-so-cute ones. Here's my little sweet pea looking Spring-time cute!

Story Monday 5 Finale

March 3 – The morning dawned bright and clear, and surprisingly warmer. Drops fell from the roof of the house outside the kitchen window throughout the day. I encouraged Sarah to take a short walk outside, but she soon tired, and I tucked her back into her rocking chair by the fire with her sewing in her lap. I, however, could not be confined any longer and spent the afternoon walking thought the fields planning my summer crops. The snow would surely prove to be a rich source of moisture for the ground. I felt an itching to begin planting right away, to be out in the sunshine, to feel the invigoration of a hard day’s work. It wouldn’t be long now.

Somehow my wandering drew me back to the west field. I hadn’t really been avoiding it, but still I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for the surging of emotion I might possibly feel. I found myself at the foot of the oak tree. I don’t think I would ever envision this small corner as wasted space again. I touched a branch of the tree and felt all at once the love my Savior engulfing me. His words came to mind. “Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time: Casting all your care upon him, for he careth for you.” Humble yourself…certainly the oak tree, no, the Humble tree, would be a reminder ever after…

November 8, 1995

The sun was sitting just on the horizon, the sky splashed with pink and purple hues, when I felt the coolness of evening bring me out of my reverie. A slight breeze whispered across my wrinkled cheeks chilling the tears. I lifted my hand off the branch where it rested and brushed it across my face. The last time I had read the journals of Grandpa Jamison, I remembered thinking that this experience with Maggie and the Humble tree, as it was known ever after, was the beginning of change for him—the beginning of a legacy. I suppose I felt such a connection to this bit of history since, in the generations to follow, there were few daughters blessing the Clark family. In my early years, I think it was my name that instilled in me such a kinship to my great grandfather and his family—I was christened Maggie Jamison Clark—quite a source of pride for me, though the last name of Shell had been added decades ago. But as I grew in the challenges of life, even so far as losing my own daughter, it was the Humble tree experience and 1 Peter that had perpetuated the legacy and silently guided my life.

Housekeeping

Just a note to all on my list of bloggin' bloggers, if you would like to be removed let me know. I am always excited to see who has new blogs, but if you'd rather keep your blog less "out there", send me an email.

Glimpses into the "Teen" Future

Granted, Amy is only eight-years old, but there are times when I feel dread for the upcoming teen years. Last night, for example, she was in a contrary mood. She had a writing assignment at school that is due every Monday. For a couple of weeks, she/we would forget about it until Sunday night and it was a rush to get it done. So I/we decided that instead of waiting until the last minute, the paper would be written on Tuesday night. It was a relatively non-busy day and would give her plenty of time to get the paper written.

To her credit, she did do her writing on Tuesday this week, but the story was just not flowing well and she needed to do some fixing. She was upset then because it was hand-written and she didn't want to write it again. (I have to remember that a half page of writing to a second grader is a lot of work.) So Wednesday night was busy with Activity Days; the next logical day to write the story was Thursday. It was rather busy with piano lessons, but she still had time. My argument to her was that we're usually busy doing stuff as a family on Friday and Saturday, so if it wasn't done Thursday night, it wouldn't get done until Sunday. (I'd rather she didn't do it then.)

Well, she threw a great fit, complained that she couldn't come up with any ideas even though I was trying to give her some, and ended up in her room. She had to have the paper done before dinner. Chris came upstairs from work and asked what all the kafuffle was about. I explained and he went up to talk with Amy. They worked things out and he gave her an idea to write about. But what I noticed was that she was very effectively ignoring me and very pointedly asking only her dad questions when she came back downstairs. I'm sure I must have caused my parents stress as a teenager (and maybe still do), but I am not looking forward to even greater battles with my hormonal daughters.

Adaptability

Kristen has had her cast for a couple of days now and is adapting very well. She doesn't complain about it, she doesn't cry about it, she doesn't get frustrated with it. That's not to say she doesn't do any of those things. They're just more in relation to me: she complains about me and wants me to leave her alone; she cries when I make her do things she doesn't want to do; and heaven knows she gets frustrated with me. How many times can you repeat a word and wish that the big people in your life understood you?

Anyway, I am amazed that she is using her left hand more. Her right hand comes in to play somewhat, but she can only hold at most a pencil between her thumb and finger. It would be cool if she were able to keep the left-handedness after the cast is removed. As far as the true frustration in her life, she's stuck with me. She'll have to continually adapt for years to come!

Casting Day

Kristen was such a good patient today. She was much more comfortable with Dr. Mino and never even thought to cry--getting a cast is pretty interesting stuff. Dr. Mino said that Kristen's arm was the 4th or 5th x-ray they had taken since opening, but she has the distinction of being the first with a broken bone! Lucky her. He said he'd put her picture up to commemorate such an honor.

Story Monday 4

I didn’t really expect any answers from the Lord, nor did I feel none too deserving of them after my afternoon of hatred…I only hoped for a miracle. Now that I look back, I see that one did come, but I certainly didn’t recognize it as such. I simply felt in my heart an intense desire to read 1 Peter 4 and 5. That’s all. And suddenly I realized my body was shivering in the cold evening light. And I remembered Sarah. I rushed back to the house only to find her sleeping on our bed. Maggie was nowhere, and I sorrowed again for leaving Sarah the task of dealing with our daughter’s lifeless body. I lay down beside her on the bed and enfolded her in my arms, pulling the comforter over my chilled body. She awoke, but still we laid there for hours.

It was about two day later, as I sat staring into the fire one evening, reminiscing, when I recalled the whispering to my heart by the oak tree. I quickly stood and reached for the Bible upon the mantle of the fireplace and turned hastily to the New Testament. I skimmed the verses in 1 Peter chapters 4 and 5 and then settled back to ponder them more deeply. Though it didn’t make the loss of Maggie any easier, I felt all at once reproached…loved…humbled. The Lord spoke peace to me through those verses and comforted my lonely heart with a feeling of love more intense than I had ever known before.

Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you. But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings, that when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad with exceeding joy. If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are ye, for the spirit of glory and of God resteth upon you…wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator.

…be clothed in humility: for God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble. Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time. Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.

February 28 – The days seem to be slipping past me without my awareness of them. Some things I do out of habit, such as taking care of the animals, but usually night falls, and I can’t remember what I’ve done all day long. My heart yearns for Maggie. Sarah is heartsick as well. She walks around the house picking up a spoon, or doll, or book and holds it gently yet firmly to her heart. I’ve watched her stand in this position at times for at least a half an hour totally oblivious to me as well as to her surrounding and then suddenly, as if something startled her, she continues doing whatever it was she had been doing. Both of us are struggling with a deep inner anguish and longing that won’t go away. I think it will be good for the baby to come and give us, Sarah especially, something to focus our thoughts and energies on. I don’t mean that I want us to forget about Maggie and get on with life. That can’t be done. We just somehow need to get on with life in the midst of our memories.

Poor little girl

I had just finished vacuuming the basement stairs when all of a sudden I heard, "thump thump thump" followed by "that" cry. I found Kristen sprawled out on the landing of the basement stairs and began to pick her up. She immediately grabbed her right arm trying to protect it and cried, "Ow, ow, ow hurts." I carried her upstairs to the couch and the crying didn't stop. Another sign that it is more than just a little bump.

I tried to convince her to take some children's chewable Tylenol, but she refused and the tablets were just becoming a sweaty, mushy mess in her hand. Finally, I found some liquid Tylenol which she readily took. (Note to self: always keep some of the liquid kind on hand). You can see in the picture here that she is smiling, but that's after the Tylenol has kicked in. She let me wrap her arm and touch it, though it was painful.

Right now, she is sleeping, but I was listening to her through the monitor and could hear her say, "Ow, hurts, really hurts." We might be headed for x-rays or at the very least a doctor visit when she wakes up.

Update:

I took Kristen to the new Exempla Family Medicine office next to Safeway. They aren't so busy yet and got her right in--plus they have x-ray capability (the OTHER medical office in Firestone wanted me to go in to urgent care in Longmont). After making Amy wait a day before taking her in with her broken leg, I figured piece of mind and comfort is worth a lot. Kristen was more upset to see the doctor than she was caring about the pain in her arm, but they were able to take xrays and ... it's broken. It looks to me as though both bones are affected, but that's my untrained eye. She's in a splint until Monday when the swelling should go down and then they will put a cast on her.

P.S. I think the doctor thought my request to take a picture of the x-ray was a little odd. I told him grandparents love to see these kinds of things.
P.P.S. Dr. Mino praised my wrapping technique and the little splint I used to wrap Kristen's arm. In fact, he sent her home in the same splint!

Feeling like a Queen

After ten years of marriage, getting a bedroom set finally made it to the top of list of things to purchase. The bed and mattress are so high that I literally have to climb up to get into bed. I love it though, it makes me feel like queen in my king-size bed. I'm still working on the pillow situation, that and getting my two-year old to smile on cue!

Story Monday 3

February 24 – I haven’t had the heart to pick up my pen to share the tragedy that has come to my home in the last ten days. Even now, the pain is so overwhelming, and I can hardly bring myself to write the words, for it seems as if writing them makes it even more real. Maggie showed no signs of improvement of Wednesday, the 13th. I stayed by her small bed hour upon hour cooling her forehead with cold rags, but nothing seemed to work. My frustration grew as I watcher her listless little body. I sent Sarah to bed about 11:30 pm. She was so exhausted, and though I suppose I was too, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep, to leave Maggie’s side. During the middle of the night she called out for her mommy. Sarah joined me by Maggie’s bed and together we sat the rest of the night. I don’t think I’ve ever prayed harder or longer at any time than I did that night, pleading for the Lord to bless my little one. I thought for sure he would hear the plea of a loving father. If anyone could save my daughter, He could. And so I never stopped believing that He would.

Early Thursday morning, Maggie reached her hand out and rested it upon mine. It was so hot, the touch of it fairly burned my skin. Finally, she opened her big, brown eyes and weakly smiled at me, as if apologizing for causing trouble. And then…she simply closed her eyes and died. My princess was gone! The shock blurred the moments into hours as I sat holding onto her tiny hand. Sarah, in the midst of her own sorrow, finally gently removed Maggie’s cold hand from mine and wrapped her in her favorite blanket. My mind screamed at me that this could not be so. My Father in Heaven would not be so cruel. I had prayed! He had to have heard. How could He do this to me?

I left Sarah then, not even thinking to comfort her aching heart, and charged out of the house. I had sense enough to grab an overcoat before leaving, but I doubt I would have felt the cold anyway as anger overtook my heart and soul. I stormed and raged at the Lord. How dare He allow my Maggie to die? What had we done to deserve such cruelty? I am ashamed now to admit than in my sorrow and shock, I cursed the Lord. I continued to walk for hours outside in the biting cold, not even noticing it. I don’t know where I went or how far, I only know that sometime in the late afternoon, as the sun was beginning to dip into the western horizon, I found myself standing by the oak tree in the west field below the house.

I thought of the numerous times I was tempted to chop the blasted tree down. It hampered my tilling of the field and required precious space. But Sarah and Maggie had always loved sitting under its leafy branches waiting for me to join them for a picnic lunch. “Oh….Maggie, this can’t be real. Why, Lord, why?” I pleaded. I realized that I was crying as my arms encircled the tree. I don’t know how long I stood there with great sobs racking my body, but after awhile the consuming anger I had felt was spent, and emptiness came to fill the void.

Ewwwww

So we are driving down the street on Friday afternoon. The weather's beautiful, the sun is shining, and the gently, wafting breeze....stinks. Amy's in the back of the van, complaining, "Shut the window." Chris is protesting, "But it's such a nice day." Misha's just about to crack us up when she says to Amy, "Did you smell that same smell at Chess Club? That was me!"

Heartwrenching

Chris and I attended the funeral for Ralph Siler's granddaughter this morning. Oh, so heartwrenching. Delilah was only 8-months old. I don't know a lot of information as to what precipitated her death except that it was mentioned that she had suffered in her short time on earth. I remember seeing Ralph holding his newborn granddaughter last summer at the stake picnic in August. You've never seen a prouder Grandfather than he. So when I stood as they carefully wheeled in such a tiny pink casket, with stoic yet tearful parents following, my heart broke at the sight. And suddenly, my heart gathered in my sweet daughters.

I have not written a new poem in so long, and sometimes the ideas just simply come. Here's to the girls I love to love.

Just A Little Longer

Tonight
as I sit next to you on your bed
and kiss you goodnight
I'll hold you close and whisper "I love you"
just a little longer.

as I listen to your stories
of school and friends and fun
I'll stop and really listen
just a little longer.

as I push you on the swing
and enjoy the sound of your laughter
and pleas for "more", I'll push
just a little longer.

as I kneel beside you in prayer
and breath in the scent of you
I'll hold your hand in mine
just a little longer.

as I watch your smile
brighten your face and twinkle your eyes
I'll take a mental picture to make it last
just a little longer.

And still tonight,
as I return to your bedside
and tuck the covers gently around you again
I'll bask in the wonder of you
just a little longer.

Story Monday 2

I realized that if I put the story text in the sidebar, anybody who missed the beginning of the story would be out of luck. So it's back again as a post.

Late Winter 1854

February 5 – The winter of ’54 has been long and dreary. Snow piles blanket upon blanket on the ground until you’d think it would last forever. This confines all of us to the house except for my twice-a-day trips to the barn to care for the animals. Sarah is heavy with child, due most likely around my birthday in March, and little Maggie keeps us both lively and on our toes. Perhaps I feel the bias of fatherhood, but she really is a marvel. The other night, Sarah and I were sitting by the fire enjoying the peace of a quiet, shared moment and the crackling fire. We both thought Maggie was asleep, but suddenly she sits up in her tiny bed in the corner of the room, and in all seriousness, announced to us with her four-year old wisdom that someday she was going to be a princess! Where she gets these ideas, I don’t know, but little does she know that she already is one. Mine. What a girl!

February 10 – Another snowstorm quarantined us to the house. I am so glad I spent extra time last Fall filling in those chinks in the wall. The winds often rage outside and the snow flurries about the windows, but my small family is snug and safe.

February 12 – Maggie woke up this morning with a fever. She wasn’t quite herself throughout the day. We weren’t sure from one minute to the next if she would be crying or quietly playing. I did my best to comfort her at bedtime knowing how tired Sarah was, and finally Maggie fell asleep in my arms after hours of rocking. Neither Sarah nor I have any idea what is wrong with our little girl. The snow makes it impossible for me to leave the house and get the doctor, and I feel so helpless to know what to do. We are hoping that a good night’s rest will make a difference. Sarah and I knelt in prayer this evening before supper to ask the Lord to watch over and heal our little Maggie. I feel certain that things will be all right.

Story Monday

My ever-encouraging brother Brad suggested that I begin to write a story and leave weekly installments on my blog. I'll take his suggestion but begin with a story I wrote about 12 years ago.

The Humble Tree

The day spent revisiting the old homestead had been full of memories of years long past. It had been a good idea to come back. Happy, laughing moments with my three brothers and parents had filled my mind all day long as I wandered through the rooms of our home, explored the orchard behind the barn, and gazed over the landscape I had so often studied as a young girl. Now, with steps more tentative and careful with time, I found myself following the lazy, trickling stream west of the house. It was a path I had taken daily and the familiarity of it flooded my old-woman heart with a desire to run and skip.

The oak tree still stood in the farthest corner of the grassy field, almost as a sentinel, skirted by a crudely-built fence, its leafless branches beckoning to me as if they had been waiting. Yet I could hardly climb the old oak now, even if I had wanted to. It was enough just to see it and touch it--the limbs now gnarled with age, much as my own hands. I suppose this was the real reason why I came today. My absence had indeed been long, but it seemed only as if it were yesterday that I was scurrying up the knotted and textured trunk to the lofty branches above the ground. And there I would sit for hours on end, reading…thinking…dreaming. Mother always knew to look for me first down at the Humble tree before searching anywhere else.

“Aah, the Humble tree.” I quietly murmured as I fingered the pattern of the bark. I hadn’t said it aloud for years. Kind of an odd name for a tree, especially if you were going to name a tree at all! But, that’s what it was called, even years before I claimed it as my own.

My first memories of the Humble tree were from my father reading my great grandfather’s journals. My brothers and I would sit at night huddled around the fireplace as Father unfolded story upon story of Jamison Clark’s life. My favorite, of course, being the story of the Humble tree. As I grew older, I took to reading the journals myself and read them constantly. So often, in fact, that I could recite them nearly word for word. Perhaps, even yet, my mind could recall his words, for in his own voice the Humble tree story was best told and understood.

My Little Sicky

I didn't mean to get the full on snot shots, but that's what we're dealing with. Anytime I hear Kristen sneeze, I grab a kleenex and head for the living room. She's been watching Shrek all morning-she even got excited to see the little Shrek babies.

P.S. You know she's sick when she ASKS to have her nap. Poor thing.

Cruise Director Amy

So, yesterday I find these postings around my house. Are we not having enough fun around here? Obviously not enough to suit Amy's tastes. Maybe it was a not-so-subtle hint to her mother that she has been sick far too long... Chris asked Amy if the meatball fair was where we threw meatballs at each other. She looked at him with an oh-so-patronizing look. "No Dad, they're for eating."

What's that supposed to mean?

So, Chris and I were watching Extreme Makeover last night. I commented that Ty was looking pretty haggard. Chris responded, "Yeah, he's looking old--looks like he's 40." Frankly, I think Chris will deny that he wasn't really thinking when he said this--that it was more of a Freudian slip. He'll say that he just wanted to see if I caught that whole "40" joke or not. Are you kidding me?!?

Send your healthy vibes this way

I thought I was getting better last weekend and then all of a sudden on Monday the nasty germs swooped down and settled in to my throat and chest. I'm starting to get better, but have sounded as though I have a bad addiction to nicotine. Chris has been fighting the germs for the past couple of days too, but I think he just might be victorious over them. And then last night Kristen wakes up after being asleep for a couple of hours barking like a circus seal. Great.

Gotta add a funny thing though. I bought Chris some Airborne to try. It's fizzy for those of you who have never tried it before. He had the tablet fizzing away in a glass of water. Misha looked at it and said, "That looks like a hot tub full of pee."

I Hate Being Sick

Enough said.

Kristen-isms

Kristen has some pretty cute sayings lately. She wears pullups at night that are adorned with Disney Princesses. We call them her princess panties. She has a preference, as well, as to which princess she wants to wear. Right now her favorite is Sleeping Tooty (Sleeping Beauty for those of you who don't speak Kristen). Not sure why she can't say beauty since she often remarks that something is "beauful". But then it might come out more like Sleeping Booty!

She has learned to tell her sisters to "zip it" and it is usually right before we say prayer. Hmmm, Chris, where'd she learn that?

She says "hud" for "hug". My favorite moments are when she grabs me by the neck and says, "huddy, huddy." For some reason, her blanket has become her diddy. Not sure why but I guess she likes the way it sounds.

She has finally figured out how to say "water". For the longest time it has been "daughter." I'll add more of them as I think of them, but frankly, I'm drawing a blank. She is cute and funny though. Honest.

Here's another one. Bubble dum. She washes her hands with foaming soap and it is bubble dum along with the chewy stuff she'd like to put in her mouth.

Tagged

4 Jobs I've Had
1. Mom
2. Editor for "I Love Remembering" scrapbooking magazine
3. Community Education Director
4. Summer Recreation Program Director

4 Movies I Watch Over and Over
1. National Treasure (mostly because my kids do, but it pulls me in everytime)
2. Anne of Green Gables
3. The American President (that and Dave always seem to be on TV)
4. You've Got Mail

4 Places I Have Lived
1. Colorado
2. Provo, Utah
3. Rexburg, Idaho
4. Stirling, Alberta CANADA

4 TV Shows I Like to Watch
1. The Amazing Race
2. Shark
3. House Hunters
4. Designed to Sell (Most shows on HGTV)

4 People Who Email/IM Me Regularly
1. Christopher
2. Angela
3. My brothers
4. In-laws

4 Favorite Foods
1. Oatmeal with walnuts and honey
2. Qdoba grilled veggie naked burrito
3. Olive Garden salad and spaghetti with meat sauce
4. Tirsa's Salsa

4 Places I'd Rather Be
1. Home (I'm a home-body)
2. Oregon Coast
3. Hawaii
4. On vacation with Chris

4 Things I Look Forward to
1. Getting taxes back this year
2. Spring
3. Christmas
4. Buying new furniture

A Little Too Independent

Kristen loves boiled eggs, though only the whites. I peeled four of them for her for lunch and thought that would be sufficient. Apparently, it wasn't. After running to the basement to talk to Chris for a minute I came back upstairs to find Kristen standing on the counter retrieving another egg for herself. She looked at me and said, "I want more eggs."

Another favorite moment in the toddler stage for all of my girls has been when they finally say "I love you" without being prompted or just out of the blue. Kristen's comes out as "I lol you." That's a good kind of independence that makes my heart melt.

Kudos to Chris

My husband pulled it off. You'll have to read his blog to get the whole story, but suffice it to say, he has now surprised me twice in the past three years! I love a good surprise.