You Should Know. . .

it is snowing here. Little flurries fighting the wind to land, but snow!
And cold.
And wind.

And I can't find my scarf!

Commentary

Do you ever feel like

you're a sports player
daily life is the playing field
and
the child is the play by play announcer?

Me:

I'm a Steeler
Target is my home field
and
Abigail is Myron Cope.
(For those not fortunate enough to grow up in Steeler territory, here's a taste of Myron Cope.)

My Commentary

Heard from the dressing room in head full of mucus volume--I see you naked, Mommy.

Connected

WooHoo! I am connected. Actually I have been since last Thursday, but having been disconnected for a week, I had some catching up to do.

We are moved in and the necessities are found, though Abigail and I are in need of cold weather gear that is in hiding. Oh, and I think Chris can find only three pair of work pants.

So today it is sorting clothes and working on our budget. And a nap for the little sick one who spread her germs to me via early morning wallowing in my bed. Could I be a little resentful?

She sat on my head and coughed in my nose. Yes, I could be. Saline drops are due--sweet revenge.

Moving

Well, it is official. We are home owners, in spite of all the uproar over the financial state of the country, or world, rather.

Friday we closed on our house across town.

Saturday, my parents came to help us pack. Or that was the plan. We actually made quite a few trips of packed vehicles over to the new house. Normally, I am all for a day of good work, but Saturday just about did me in. Pregnant women, I was warned, should not lift and carry boxes packed with their belongings. I don't completely buy it, but perhaps those last two trips were too much. Maybe Abigail and I should have crawled into bed and pretended nothing weird was happening in our house for an afternoon nap. Maybe.

Yesterday after church, we rested. I helped Chris load the van twice for trips over to the house. The first trip, I sent him and Abigail, to unload while I had some time alone. The second, I taught the elementary school extracurricular Sunday night class.

Today I feel better. Abigail and I are going to take some things over, including a bottle of Cascade and the dishes in our sink, and go grocery shopping. This house is starting to sound hollow, Chris said, and the other is becoming chaotic. Perhaps this evening I should start unpacking a little before anything else moves in.

Stitch Removal

Abigail had her stitches removed on Tuesday. We had plans to go to the library and I thought library would distract from the horror of stitch removal. It worked even if the removal was worse than stitching her skin back together in the first place. I attribute it to the difference in nurses--on was gentle and kind, the other just man-handled us. (Sometimes I leave places and wish I was more abrasive, but alas.)

Abigail was all excited about getting her stitches out. . . until we pulled into the lot. The conversation went something like this:

A: I don't want get my stitches out.
M: I know, but they must come out. You were so brave last week.
A: But I don't want get my stitches out.
M: Remember how we prayed that Jesus would help you be brave and calm last week. He did, didn't He.
A: Mhhh. (affirmative grunt)
M: Would you like to pray that He will help you today.
A: Mhhh.

M: Jesus, thank you for being with me last week.
A: Jesus, tank you for being wiff me wast week.
M: Thank you for helping me be brave.
A: Tank you for halping me be bwrave.
M: Please help me be brave today.
A: Pwease halp me be bwrave today.
M: Please. . .
A: Please help me get candy. Anem. (cheesy grin)
M: Amen

Bravery and candy, who could ask for anything more? The bravery she got, the candy, not so much, remember the mean nurse.