Monthly Archives: September 2010

It’s So Good I Have To Blog About It

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Well, if you’ve been around my blog for long you know it doesn’t take much for me to want to blog about it. But I’m just giddy this morning. My birthday wish came true!

It’s 66 degrees outside.
And later this afternoon, it will only be in the 80’s.
I feel like I can accomplish anything on this stellar day.
As I shared with my BFF earlier, can I just share with you how happy I am that:
1. My windows are open.
2. I can hear rustling leaves and feel a cool breeze.
3. The fragrance of my birthday roses has reached me from across the room.
This weather might make me downright poetic.

A While Back…

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This morning, I decided to put on my birthstone earrings, since it’s my birthday and all. Birthdays are always special around here. This morning I woke up to coffee, donuts, and roses – all arranged by my sweet husband while I caught up on some sleep because Carson finally slept more than 2 consecutive hours last night.

Anyway, back to my earrings. They are cherished little things that Jeff bought me for my birthday 8 years ago, when we were together in SE Asia. He was scheduled to take a trip to Hong Kong during my actual birthday, so we celebrated the weekend before, and then he brought back my birthstone earrings from Hong Kong.

This morning they remind me of a sweet time in our lives where we served with some wonderful people in an amazing place on the other side of the world.
Dinner With Friends… I actually had chilly weather for my birthday that year!
Today, my life is unbelievably different than 8 years ago… and a little more mundane rather than exotic or adventurous. But I wouldn’t trade what I have now. Now I cherish the sleepy little faces who greeted me this morning with birthday wishes… even if the very next words out of their mouths were, “Mommy, I’m hungry!”
Such a blessed season of my life


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I always get thoughtful this time of year. This week we would have most likely been celebrating the one-year birthday of our 3rd child. But that was not to be. I fully trust that our sweet child has only tasted the goodness of the Lord their entire life. I posted this poem a year ago today, and thought I’d like to share it again. The Lord is good.

You were barely here, then gone
Like the slightest refrain of a song.

A whisper, a breath, a tiny breeze.

And never will my fingers touch your earthly face –
Or ever feel the sweetest grace
of holding you that way.

And though I search for but a glimpse of who you would have been
My heart holds steady to the One you’re hidden in.

Still and quiet I remain.

So Long, Sophie

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We interrupt this Make-It-Yourself-Monday to bring you the Plight of the Lost Lovey Giraffe.
**Please see the update at the end of this post**
It pains me to write this. Really.
It all started several months ago, one Saturday mid-morning, when we strolled down to a garage sale on our street, a few blocks down. Things were wrapping up, and the sweet couple was eager to off-load a few items on to our eager couple of cute girls who were drooling at the big box of once-loved toys in the back of the garage. (Yes, this garage sale was actually in a garage. I know, that almost never happens, right?)
Anyway, so the aforementioned sweet couple told my girls they could have anything from the box. Then I immediately and swiftly amended that offer and told them they could each pick one thing. One. They begged to pick one toy for their brother, too, who was sleeping so peacefully in his stroller I almost forgot he was there. That was back in the day when he actually slept for long periods of time.
Well, they picked out this soft rubber giraffe. They were in love with it, and certain their brother would love it as well.
So I brought it home, sanitized the silly-looking thing, and threw it in the toybox… or really, one of the toy bins; there are several.
Fast-forward a few months later when Carson’s personality livens up, and he starts full-fledge teething (oh, and stops sleeping for long periods of time.) Quite unexpectedly, this beloved giraffe toy came to the rescue. He seemed to favor ‘Giraffe’, as we called it (we’re very practical around here) over everything else when it came to lovin’ and chewin’. And boy is that boy serious about his lovin’ and chewin’!
One of the girls would bring him Giraffe and his face would light up. Literally, folks, his demeanor would change! He.loved.his.Giraffe. I would half-cringe every time, because…..
People, I thought it was a dog toy! It was soft rubber. It squeaked. I thought it was a dog toy!
We won’t discuss the psychology behind the fact that – believing it was a dog toy- I let my infant son chew on it anyway. Besides, I don’t believe in psychology.
Well, about 2 weeks ago, I was searching on Amazon for some cloth diaper / baby items and lo and behold – there was Giraffe!!! Only, her name is ‘Sophie‘… Imagine my surprise and delight to find that she’s actually a baby teething toy! And a really highly reviewed expensive baby teething toy! Made of 100% natural rubber and food paint… BPA and Phthalates free… it was music to my ears. I called Jeff over to the computer to rejoice with me… Our son wasn’t in love with a dog toy after all. For the next week I proudly handed my son this exquisite Sophie teether. He loved her. He chewed her. I finally let him have it while riding in the car (before, when I thought it was a dog toy, I thought better of it.) It was a glorious week, full of sweet Sohpie moments.
And then….
We visited our friends’ church, and Giraffe, I mean Sophie, was left on the pew… never to be found again.
Sob. No really, sob!
Perhaps you were expecting something a little more poetic and ironic like Sophie getting chewed up by the dog. Now that would make a good story, but we don’t have a dog, so you’ll have to settle for the truth. We left that favorite toy on the pew at that church, and even after several people helped us look for it a few days later – she was gone. Just as suddenly as she had come into our lives, she was gone again. (There. How’s that for poetic?)
So long, Sophie. I’m sorry I ever held any disdain for you… you were the best.
Let me now say, for any of you searching for a great baby toy, this one is worth the price! And if you happen to get one, I hope your baby loves Sophie as much as I did, er uh, I mean my son did.
Happy Monday, Everyone!
UPDATE: A very wonderful person saw this post and bought Carson another Sophie!! We are so happy! But Jeff is insistent that we call the new one something a bit more masculine for his son to play with… he suggested ‘Butch’, but I think we’ll just stick with ‘Giraffe.’

And to Top Off the Weirdness…

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Here is the account of our middle-of-the-night activities, strictly for your enjoyment. Note: We were recently given bunk beds for the girls, and bought a brand new mattress this week. Both girls have been sleeping on the bottom bed together.

Maggie, our First Born, Star of Last Night’s Story

About 1:40 Friday morning, I was waking up, becoming aware of Maggie whining in her bed (she and Lilly still sleeping on bottom bunk together.) By the time I was coherent, Jeff had already left our room to see what was wrong. She was walking down the hall towards our room, saying, “I want my frog…” (What? What frog? She has no frog.)

Thinking she was just sleepwalking or groggy, he directed her back to her bed, but before he was fully nestled back into our bed, she started crying. He went to investigate again, and she said, “I tee-tee’d.”

Now, Maggie, (age 4) has been fully potty trained since she was 2 1/2 and since that time has maybe once or twice peed in the bed, but that’s been well over a year ago. But I guess with dealing with a bladder infection this week, she just needed to go and couldn’t wake herself up in time. So the brand new, less-than-a-week-old mattress – you know the real mattress that doesn’t have a vinyl cover – yeah. It’s peed on. Sigh.

Jeff helped her in the bathroom while I pulled out new undies and shirt, and investigated the damage to the bed. It didn’t seem terribly bad, and to change the sheet would mean waking up Lilly, who was sound asleep on the other end of the mattress.

So I grabbed a hand towel and put it over the wet spot, thinking Maggie could just sleep on the towel, and we’d deal with the pee in the morning. (Hey, I was still groggy; don’t judge me for my laziness.)

Carson started fussing and I took him to bed with me while Jeff helped Maggie change and get back to bed. I heard some commotion before it was finally quiet and when he came back to bed, he leaned over and whispered, “And to top off the weirdness… she dropped her binky in the toilet.” I stifled the giggles.

Somehow, while pulling off the old shirt to put on the new one, the binky flew out of her mouth and into the toilet. It’s gone now. For good. No recovering from that one.

[And yes, our four-year-old still takes a binky to bed. She’s our firstborn. Our guinea pig. Please, enough with the judging.]

So we settled down to go back to sleep.

A few minutes later, Maggie was calling “Daddyyy” in a hushed whisper. He went to check on her again; I was thinking maybe she had to pee again.

He came back and whispered, “Her underwear are wet, but she said she didn’t tee tee.” I left Carson sleeping in our bed, surrounded by pillows, and went to help. We soon discovered that the wet spot on the mattress was far wetter than I had previously ascertained, and it had soaked through the hand towel and into Maggie’s undies, poor kid.

So we helped her change her undies –again– soaked up the wet spot, put a bigger towel over the area (Lilly is still asleep) and instructed Maggie to move closer to the other side of the bed, and not lay on the towel.

She started to climb into bed and stopped, stating, “there’s a roach.” I spotted it on the wall just above her bed. (We had been using my cell phone as a flashlight this whole time, working in the dark, as not to wake Lilly.)

“She’s right,” I said. I pulled off my slipper and handed it to Jeff. What? He’s the man. He kills the bugs. Unless he’s not home. And then I squeal and shudder and then do a kind of drive-by squash-and-run heebie jeebie routine.

Anyway, so I handed Jeff, man of the house, bug slayer extraordinaire, my hard-soled slipper. He crawled onto the bed and smushed the small roach against the wall, after which it fell behind the bed, and now is somewhere under the bed, dead. Yuck. I got a paper towel for him to clean the wall, and Maggie climbed into bed, brave soul.

We kissed her, untangled Lilly (still sleeping) from the sheet they shared, and covered the both of them back up.

As I was moving towards the bed to kiss Maggie’s forehead, Somebody – I’m not saying who – suddenly and loudly let out a, ahem, bodily noise, to the surprise of all of us, unnamed person included. At this point the three of us in the room who were awake started giggling. I kissed Maggie and we left the room, and Jeff and I snuggled into bed, still giggling, and trying not to wake up Carson. “This is going on the blog,” I whispered. “Except for the part where [unnamed person] farted.”

Okay, well, that last part was just too funny to not share. At least I changed the name of the innocent guilty party. Hope you’ve enjoyed hearing about a not-so-typical night at the Hazletons.