Randy and Shari's World

This post is dedicated to my good friend Trish, who recently had the nerve to move all the way to Texas and leave us all sad and weepy here without her.  She wants to know what is going on in my life, and since I am so horrible at keeping up with my blog, and am slow to cave (though there is some hope I feel) and sign onto Facebook, she has to resort to the good old telephone to figure out if I'm still alive and stuff.  So I will try my best to write something now.  (But already my youngest charge, Elias – formerly known as Pierogie, is demanding my attention…).

Quick updates of random things, before I bring up something that I learned about from a handout I received at Micah's Kindergarten (sniff, sniff) orientation this morning:

*Elias is 9 weeks old now and he's really cute and smiley.  He also likes to eat rather often, even and sometimes especially during the time that grown people call "night" and like to sleep.  So, we're pretty exhausted these days (and nights).  But the Little Dude is getting chubbier by the minute, and who doesn't love to squeeze and kiss chubby baby thighs??

*We just got back from a week-long roadtrip in Newton.  Newton is our Dodge "Graham CrackerVan" according to Serena.  He also contains cheerios and all sorts of other crumbs from our trip that we have not yet taken out of him.  Anyway, so we packed up a 5 yr old, a 2 1/2 yr old, and a 2 month old and went on a trip that Google Maps said would take "1 day, 9 hours."  Even we began to doubt our sanity in selecting such an adventure for this summer.   But we wanted to visit Randy's 3 brothers and their families and they don't happen to live next door.  So we packed lots of diapers and lots of snacks, and made sure we used plenty of both to ensure a nice drive.  We also made sure we didn't get them mixed up, because no one wants a onesie full of soggy pretzels, now do they?  But it really was a nice trip and our kids did rather well for all the driving we did.  Of course we did try to make it extra exciting by leaving at 4:40 AM for the first leg of the trip and 2:40 AM on the fifth and final leg.  I mean, 3 out of 5 of us were up anyway, so why not just go?

*Micah starts Kindergarten next Wednesday.  He is very excited, and he does realize (I think) that it involves more than just riding a school bus. 

We got this 3 page handout at orientation this morning, all about the bus.  And no, it was not the lyrics to "The Wheels on the Bus" though that would have been more interesting than most of the 21 "Frequently Asked Questions."  But question 18 more than makes up for the other boring ones.  So much so that I got my lazy bones up off of the couch to get a highlighter from the desk to mark the finer points of interest.

The question reads: "Why are 39" seats in school buses rated for three children when they only will accommodate two?"

Part of the answer states that "In determining seating capacity of a bus, an allowable average rump width standard was established."  Yes, an AARWS!  And it goes on to say that "13" of rump width was suggested when a 3-3 seating plan was used".  Who figures this stuff out?  I'm half tempted to measure the rump widths in our family and see what combination of us could fit on the bus.  Or maybe I could ask Randy to make a pie chart of them somehow (not an actual pie, of course, because then the measurements would need to be altered a bit). 

Anyway, I just had to share that inspiring phrase.  I felt as though the handout morphed from a letter from the school district into a Dave Barry article on the joys of airline travel or something. 

That BOTH of our children are expecting!!

And, since I blog oh-so-frequently, they have both given birth as well!

Isn't that sweet?

Since I haven't blogged since September, I thought I should maybe mention a few other highlights in our family:

I, too, am expecting.  Baby Pierogie is due to arrive somewhere around June 21st.  Serena currently says "girl" and Micah is still trying to hold onto his wish that I will have "one boy and one girl" despite our attempts to explain that there truly is only 1 baby in there and that as far as we can tell, this baby has only one gender.

Serena talks lots and lots now and it's very cute.  She loves going to Aldi with me and has become buds with Miss Keisha, the cashier who gives her TONS of attention.  (Although I think they've changed her schedule, as she hasn't been there the past few Wednesdays and so I don't know what to do because I ALWAYS do my food shopping on Wednesday mornings and I can't even fathom how I'd go on if I had to CHANGE something – heaven forbid!)

We have joined the club of at-first-reluctant-but-then-accepting minivan owners.  We purchased Newton (yes, as in fig newton, only he's big newton) on a Wednesday in February, crashed him 3 days later, got him back in early March, and have been pretty much terrified to drive him since.  So he sits safely in the garage for the most part, awaiting Pierogie's arrival, so that we will actually DRIVE him (without feeling guilty b/c he uses more gas than Bobo – yes, you'd be hard-pressed to find cheaper people than us…).  But he's CUTE and we got an amazing deal on him and he has some great storage features (so, really, since we're not driving him, we basically added a closet to our garage, thus maximizing storage space!!)

 Micah sleeps in a big boy's bed – finally!  (LONG STORY - rather linked with the crashing of Newton.  Let's just say that in an effort to be cheap, we ended up spending over $650 for a $40 craigslist find…)

What else?  Let's see, Micah is loving preschool and enjoyed registering for kindergarten.

Randy spoke about his occupation at Micah's preschool.  Those kids now know, if nothing else, what a plume is.

As for me, I can occasionally make it through an entire afternoon without falling asleep on the couch!

The cats are acting as they always do: Sam needs to be "put away" when guests come, and Toby pees on things.

Randy just informed me that had I not blogged today, he was scheming to post an entry tonight that teased of containing actual content, but then only said, "April Fools!"  So, for those of you who like to know a few tidbits about our life, I'm glad I beat him to it. 

Thanks for reading!

Some struggle with separating the social demands and materialism of the holiday season from the celebration of Christ's birth. A friend of mine recently said that he would feel no disappointment if Christmas never came again. This struggle is clearly understandable. In fact we all struggle with it to some degree. However, I seem to struggle with the burden of the season less than most, and have an almost child-like enthusiasm for the whole season. I hope that I can share my excitement with you by explaining why I love to celebrate Christmas.

In one word, it is Immanuel. God with us. Every time I hear that word it puts shivers down my spine. I can't help but be overwhelmed by the magnitude of God walking among us. Let me explain.

Imagine yourself in Mary's or Joseph's place. What must they have thought? Months ago, they were told that they were to care for Jesus, the Son of God. Certainly they had time to prepare and make their home ready for the arrival of the new child. Yet, just about the time he is due, they are forced to pick up and move. For what purpose? For a census. Surely there must be some mistake. The journey must have been long and difficult for Mary. Did Joseph worry about how slow their progress was? Did he worry about how to provide proper accommodations for his young, pregnant wife? When they reached Bethlehem, there was no place to stay. All they were given were the quarters of animals. Surely there must be some mistake. This was the town of Joseph's family, yet there was no room for him and his pregnant wife. When Mary began to labor and give birth, did they have any doubts? At a minimum they must have wondered, "Did we do something wrong, that this is the best we can offer the Son of God?" The timing was awful, the journey trying, and the accommodations deplorable for a new mother. Without a midwife or friend at her side, Mary's labor must have been frightening at best. Surely Joseph did the best he could, but what did a carpenter know about giving birth at that time? Did they even have clean water to wash the new baby with?

Consider the glory of heaven. Perfect, holy, without sin, without disease, without pain… the Holy Presence of God the Father in all of his glory. Angels hover and continuously sing "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty." No eyes can bear to see the Father's face, but all cover their own to shield the brightness of his glory. And the Son of God sits at his right hand.

Consider the stable where Jesus was born. The dark cave, with mud, hay, excrement, bacteria, disease, blood, hunger, pain… this is our world, and he made it his home. Imagine the most helpless newborn infant: picture yourself holding that newborn in your arms and consider that God chose to become so weak, helpless and dependent- dependent on us. When Mary and Joseph sat in the straw among cattle, holding this new baby boy, I am sure they rejoiced. But I'm sure they also wondered. And perhaps even doubted. What did we do wrong? Is this what the angel meant? Surely this is not how it was supposed to be. Perhaps we misunderstood. This cannot possibly be how God intended to send his son into the world. Surely we have failed him.Then a stranger appeared, a shepherd. "Excuse me," he may have said, looking into the stable as others crowded in behind him. "Do you know-" His eyes stop on the child, wrapped in clothes and lying in a manger. The shepherds' wonder and awe must have been contagious! They saw not just an angel, but a host of angels, singing praises to the baby that lay before them. For Mary and Joseph, all their doubts were swept away as strangers poured in from the night praising God.

Imagine your poorest point in life when you felt completely destitute – you could barely afford food for your table. Or imagine your poorest point when you were so helplessly lost in your sin that you gave yourself up for lost. Or imagine your poorest point when you were all alone, when no one seemed to care if you lived or died – no one had a kind word or a ray of hope.

The King steps in. He eats a crust of bread with you at your barren table. He embraces you in your filthy, depraved sin. He takes your hand when no else will, and asks you to be his bride. Immanuel. God with us. God enters at our poorest, darkest, loneliest point and says "I am with you."

And the wonder of it all is that he came to suffer. You can't have Christmas without Easter. It was for the Cross that Christ came.

One of my favorite Christmas songs is "Did You Know" by Todd Agnew. He sings "Did the cross cast a shadow over your cradle? Did you shudder each time your hammer struck a nail?"

For some, everything they see in Christmas speaks of the world hijacking our religious celebration. For me, everything I see during Christmas reminds me that Christ came to earth; that he came to die for my sins. Every song I sing, whether "O Holy Night" or "Jingle Bell Rock", and every decoration I see, whether a nativity, a tree, or a Santa, reminds me that Christ came to save us all. Everything else fades away.

The world will see what it wants to see. But I see Immanuel. God with us. This is why I love to celebrate Christmas.

I'm trying to learn to be a little more computer savvy, and learn how to put actual photos in here for your eyeballs to see.  So here is my attempt to show you some pictures of the kids at the beach last week.

If you click on the pics, you will be magically [thank you, Tina (and James for the "magic")] taken to our WebAlbum, where unknown quantities of happiness and bliss are just waiting for your arrival.

  Today was Micah's first day of preschool.  He had a good time and Serena and I did OK without him.  But we both missed him.  It's quieter without him since Serena doesn't talk much yet.  My little boy is growing up!!  But he still lets me hug him.

So we were at Aldi today (it's Wednesday, see?) and this older man stopped pushing his cart as he neared us.  No big deal, this happens sometimes.  Small store, 2 small children; sometimes people stop to talk to them (or about them).  The first thing out of this guy's mouth is, "Did you do her hair?" in response to Serena's ponytail (yes, I'm getting so big and actually presenting my little girl in a somewhat girl-like fashion!!!  Who knew I could do it??).  I said that I did and waited for some sort of typical response, such as, "cute" or "good for you" or even, "why bother?" but he just sort of stared and then asked me how old she is.  I said "18 months" and he said, "how much?"  Um, OK.  "18 months," I said again.  He just stood there, continuing to stare at my daughter to the point where I actually got a little nervous.  I mean, most people are really nice, but there are scary perverts out there and though I didn't want to make a scene, I was trying to imagine how quickly my adrenaline-pumped self could push that shopping cart out of the store if I had to. 

Well, not wanting to miss out on a conversation with someone at Aldi, Micah pipes up from the back of the cart, "I'm 4!" 

OK, stop right there.  Pretend you are the other guy (only pretend that you're NOT staring oddly at a small girl, you're just you – decent, well-meaning, produce-purchasing you, interacting with a mom and her 2 kids).  How do you respond to the little boy who wants to be noticed?  Let's brainstorm some possible responses, shall we?  A) "Oh, wow – 4!  That's great!"  B) "What a big boy!"  C) "Well I'm 52 years old now, but what I liked most about being 4 is that when you go to the doctor, you get a sticker, not a prostate exam!"  Any of those would have been acceptable, right?  (Although I'm not sure I'm quite ready to explain to Micah that he won't be able to go to his same pediatrician when he's 52…)

But this guy chose option D), which was to look up at Micah as if he hadn't even noticed him before and say, in all sincerity, with not a hint of humor, "I don't care about that."  Micah and I took our turns to stare now.  I kept waiting for the guy to say, "I'm just kidding buddy!  I'm glad to hear that you're 4 – you certainly have better manners than I do…" but the closest thing I got was a little look that lasted half a second that said, basically, "perhaps that was a bit harsh, but who cares??" and then we parted ways.  As soon as I got out of earshot, and didn't care too much if I wasn't entirely out yet, I leaned down to Micah and said, "I care!"

What's the deal with that?

So last Wednesday was our 10th anniversary. We just got back from a cruise to Bermuda. Well, not quite exactly that, though we’re holding out for that someday.

We were on vacation in the Poconos with my side of the family and it had been arranged beforehand that from after lunch on, my mom would watch our kids and we would go on a Special Anniversary Date for the rest of the day.

Here is what we envisioned for our Big Day:

1) We would rent a jet ski and repeatedly hurl ourselves into the water as we attempted to both stay on at the same time and ride around the lake in a romantic fashion.

2) We would go somewhere pretty and take a nice walk, enjoying beautiful scenery and magical conversation.

3) We would go to the nice lakefront restaurant we kept driving by for the past few days to eat dinner.

4) We would take yet another magically romantic and breathtakingly beautiful walk, probably along the lake.

5) We would go somewhere amazingly yummy to hunt down some magical dessert, of the ice cream based variety.

6) We would eventually wander back to our condo, being reasonably sure the kids were asleep, and take a nice bubble bath, relax a bit, and go to bed.

Here is what actually happened:

1) We drove to a mall in Scranton in the torrential rain, which got so loud that we couldn’t even hear our John Grisham audio book at some points.

2) We shared a Cinnabon, which was FABULOUS – I just LOVE those things and practically cried out loud when our mall (which has TWO Auntie Anne’s, whose pretzels are also fine fare, but come on, two???) took away the Cinnabon.

3) We walked around and purchased the following items: 2 pieces of Gertrude Hawk chocolate and a sympathy card for my sister, who had to leave the vacation for an evening because her favorite kitty, who had been diagnosed with cancer about a year ago, took a turn for the worst and they had to put him to sleep. SO SAD! Timmy was a great kitty, the most laid back cat you could ever meet.

4) We drove back to our condo to pick up our sunglasses because the sun came out for a few minutes and we thought maybe we could still get a walk in. (Editor’s note: we should have just skipped this step).

5) We ate a nice dinner at the rainfront restaurant.

6) We began to take a walk in our raincoats (wearing our raincoats; we were gonna actually walk on the path, see?), got about 8 yards from our car, heard thunder, came back to the car and decided to just sit there and listen to the rest of our audio book. As my sister said later, “Wow! That is REALLY nerdy!”

7) We went to an ice cream place, the kind where you can’t go inside, even if it’s raining, and before we ordered from the nice (and bored) people inside the window hole, decided that we needed to use some bathroom facilities. One of the younger girls behind the window hole told us, with actual glee and giddiness in her manner, that we’d need to “walk through the rain” to get there and then proceeded to give us these really complicated directions to what turned out to be the porta potties out back. So, as I held my husband’s hand and ran through pouring rain to 2 porta potties sitting side by side, I said something to the effect of, “This is not quite how I pictured celebrating our 10th anniversary!!” I mean, we couldn’t even flush!!
We ordered some yummy ice cream from the window people and sat on the sidewalk where it was dry and ate our dessert, while enjoying the view of the parking lot.

9) We went back to our condo, took a bubble bath (well, it was actually a chocolate bath with this stuff that I made at MOPS that was supposed to be for just me I think, cuz we made it at the spa day that was teaching us how to relax and unwind and pamper ourselves as women, but Randy really likes chocolate and we didn’t have anything else, and so there you have it) relaxed a bit, and went to bed.

So you can see some similarities between the two itineraries, but also some striking contrasts. All in all, it was a fun and memorable day. And just so you don’t start thinking not nice things about my husband, he had already planned (before he even knew the forecast) to take me to my favorite place on earth in just a few weeks for an entire weekend!! (Now, if we can just get the childcare lined up…) And though the brochure doesn’t specify, I’m pretty sure there are indoor, flushing toilets there!

Here is a snippet from a conversation Micah and I had at lunch today.

Me: “Do you think you’d like to get married someday?”
Micah: “Well, I want YOU to marry me. Because I love you.”
Me: “Aww, thanks! But I’m already married to Daddy.”
Micah: (thinking deeply look, then the “aha!” look) “Well, if another lady marries Daddy, then you can marry me!”

I explained to Micah that we don’t want to hurt the spider he saw in our basement *(see footnote for further explanation) because he helps us out by eating other bugs. Micah then explained it back to me from an angle that I had never before considered, “Yeah, so we don’t have to eat ‘em.”

*footnote: OK, I am still basically like any other normal red-blooded female in that I kind of freak out (at times, complete the full-fledged arm-waving and screeching/squealing sound that all males detest) at the sight of a spider, especially when it is in my own personal dwelling. To be more specific, especially when I am naked and defenseless in the shower, without my glasses on, and therefore unable to tell exactly how scary the spider is, or for that matter, if it even IS a spider at all. I usually just have to whisper frantically (I can’t yell, cuz I shower at night and don’t want to wake the kids) for Randy to come and save me.
Anyway, but my brother-in-law Harold has a deep love and respect for all living things and though he has not yet been able to convince me to feel bad for all the bugs that fly into and then die upon on my windshield as I drive, he has caused both Randy and me to feel a little uneasy about flippantly squishing bugs who probably mean no harm and can’t help it that they’re hideously ugly. So in most cases, we resort to getting “the cup” from Randy’s bottom dresser drawer (a plastic cup that has some sort of stiff paper inside it, both of which are necessary to escort a bug found indoors, back to where it belongs outdoors) and hope that once outside, the bug does not become outraged enough at the eviction that it brings back colonies of its friends to invade our home in mass force. But Randy (and sheer laziness on my part, frankly) has gotten me to the point where I am willing to grant an indoor-living-permit to certain spiders. The qualifications for such a permit include, but are not limited to: not being horrendously frightening looking, or overly large, or too hairy; not being located at eyeball level in a primary living/sleeping space; and not moving swiftly, or really at all. In other words, if a spider is squatting in a corner of the basement, minding his own business and ridding our house of other bugs, he’s in. But if I happen to have the vacuum out down there and he seems to be acting slightly rebellious (or I’m just in the kind of mood where I just “want things CLEAN for crying out loud”), he’s gone.