Humor | It's a Vivas Thing!

Sep 02 2009

Living

This morning I woke up. I think it was more than just waking up in the physical sense, but the spiritual sense as well. God had placed it on my heart to pray and then pray some more. So I did. Then He reminded me that He was still in control; I wasn't. I'm not. And then He threw a test at me…first thing this morning! And I started to blow it, but then remembered to stop, drop, and roll, pray and give it back to Him.

So this morning, instead of attending meetings that were beyond anything I could do, I prayed while others met. Then I took my kids to school. And then, well, Isa and I went shopping for those art supplies I'd been promising her for the past two weeks. I was reminded that as much as I am trying to help another little girl who's had so many promises to her broken, I was starting to do a bit of the same thing to my own daughter. And so, we printed off those coupons and away we went!

We picked out paints and figurines and talked about the Christmas village we'll paint. We talked about how my oldest son and I painted those first pieces and how some have been broken over the years. We shared memories of the past and planned to make memories in the future.

Not long after we got home, I recieved some great advice. I was reminded to be grateful and live. And so we did. We painted. Then we went and visited my niece together and came home and sat down to paint some more. Before we knew it, B-Boo had decided to join in. Then, the Talented One came over. Ok, not to paint, but to join in the fun of sitting around the table and being together. Laughing. Loving. Living. And so we did. And it was a great day. A peaceful day. A day well lived.

Some of our Masterpieces

Aug 27 2009

The Drama Queen

Or, as we like to say, "And then there was…"

Yup, that's her. Our very on Drama Queen. A brilliant ray of light, full of energy that refuses to be told she can't do anything. Her name, roughly translated, means,

"A beautiful rainbow we don't deserve."

Yes, that about sums her up!

After a complicated pregnancy, the Drama Queen arrived two weeks early, on the only day that week that was not someone else's birthday. Within a couple of weeks, we knew something was wrong with her. For the next five months, we'd travel back and forth to the doctor over and over, trying to get them to figure out what was it was that was making her so sick. Finally, a diagnosis. She was suffering from severe food allergies. Severe enough to land her in the hospital on more than one occasion…and for me to get over my fear of needles since I was the one that was her main care giver.

As we began a whole new lifestyle of eating, I worked hard to educate myself on the in's and out's of food allergies and to try out new recipes. Not easy when you can only cook with a handful of ingredients: chicken, turkey, rice, potatoes, carrots, broccoli, apples, tapioca, salt and pepper. Yes, I'm serious.

When she was finally able to have soy, I was ecstatic! Adding in beef and beans later was awesome. And then, we could finally have melons…oh, how happy we were! Yes, we. Because of the severity of her food allergies, she could not have formula. This meant that I had to follow a strict diet, too. And so it went.

These days, she's allergic to peanuts, tree nuts, eggs, apples and dairy. Her brother, the Smart One, is on a gluten free, nut free diet, so sometimes cooking for the two of them together is hard; but we manage to have some pretty decent meals anyway!

So what is it about the Drama Queen anyway? Well, she has a pretty high tolerance for pain, kind of like her momma. Translated into English, this means that:

When she says a penny is stuck in her throat, yet doesn't act like it, you take her to the hospital anyway. And they don't believe you until an x-ray proves it and then they do surgery.

When a VCR lands on her feet and nearly slices off two of her toes, and she has to have them stitched back together, she can still go right outside and run around instead of sitting for the next week.

When she goes into anaphylaxis she will try and go about her play in spite of the swelling and hives.

When 300 pounds of plexi-glass land on her foot and she can walk anyway, you take her to the ER. Odds are, it's broke. And when they send you away anyway and tell you it can't possibly be broke because she's fine, you nod your head and drive away…and then come back again when they call you to tell you that the x-ray showed it was indeed broke, after all. It also means that she'll go through a boot thing once a week for three weeks, destroying them, until you finally give up and tell her to just wear her sneakers and try not to make it worse. Oh, and you beg her not to show people where it's broke by moving it around. That's just gross.

When she flies off of a swing that she wasn't supposed to be on anyway and lands on a two-by-four in an anthill, you take her to the ER. And even though the nurse says it can't possibly be that bad, you scream for a doctor anyway, because you've seen it, and you know. And then you take her home with 17, yes SEVENTEEN staples in the back of her head, and you're told to keep her down for the next 48 hours. Sure, OK.

And all she wants to know is when can she please go outside and play…and climb her favorite tree, the big Mulberry tree that she's been climbing since she was about a year old. The same one that her older brother had to climb up into and get her out over and over….until we finally got smart and taught her how to get down, too.

The Drama Queen is just that. She wants to try everything. She is all about living life to the fullest. The righter of wrongs. The sheriff of the house. The let's just have some fun child.

She loves to sing…and sing….and sing, especially if it's about her Lord.

She loves music…all of it. Celtic Women, Bocelli, Selah, Barlow Girl, Newsboys, Celine Dion, and Journey (cause Mom really likes Journey.)

She loves to dance. She started a new dance class this week, so I've had the pleasure of listening to her tap away on the kitchen floor…over and over and over again. Because it annoys her siblings, so she waits until it's just the two of us. Yup.

She's all about fashion. It has to be shiny, or glittery, and of course, noticeable…because she's also all about that. And honest. Sometimes too much. She's had to learn a thing or two about humbleness and just because it's true does not mean you should say it.

She loves babies and can't wait until she can babysit all by herself.

She can make friends with just about anyone…and usually does.

She loves to talk on the phone and can't possibly understand why we won't let her have a cell phone…because, well, she needs it.

She wants to live life!

This is our Drama Queen. The wannabe pop star, actress, and doctor. Because, yes, she can do it all!

If you'd like to listen to some of her singing, click here.

Aug 26 2009

We can laugh…or we can cry!

Yeah, I seem to have a lot of those days! I've been trying to find time to write about my youngest, the Drama Queen, but that will have to wait for another blog. Cause today was one of those days! You know, the kind where you have to take a child to school in tears and try and make it better while you rush off because you're late for an appointment because you haven't been able to walk for a week…or two….or, well, anyway.

And then, on the way to the appointment, you get a phone call. It's another child's dentist calling, saying that the insurance will not pay for the anesthesia or facility for dental surgery because it isn't a covered benefit. And so you call, while still rushing to your appointment, only to be told that it is a covered benefit, but only if your child is five, not eight. And of course, the Drama Queen hears the conversation, so as you walk into your appointment, late, she breaks into tears and tells the receptionist that she is going to have to have dental surgery while she is awake. And they feel sorry for her and give her candy and Kleenexes and nod at you in understanding without questioning why you're late.

And you take a seat…and you wait. And you can't complain, because, well, you were also late. So you wait.

And you finally make it back to the room and explain to the nurse what is going on. And then this young med student walks in, and asks you to describe the pain in your foot. And you ask him if he is training…and you find out he's the doctor. Really. Even though he looks like he's only 21, he's actually 39…and well, it's not fair. Cause you don't look that young and your body is falling apart.

And so, you describe the pain, and he informs you that is consistent with the x-rays that he's looked at. And that you have fractured your foot, "a good inch and a half" a while ago.

"Oh?" you say, "Like possibly in July when you took those teens to camp and had to run and run and run?"

"No," he says, "As in you had to have whacked it really hard around a year ago."

"What?"

And he continues to ask you in disbelief that you couldn't possibly have known that you fractured your foot? He repeats that it's a big fracture and it would have hurt and taken a "good whack!" And you repeat that you honestly don't remember whacking it. Really. It just started hurting and sometimes worse than others, and now it's so bad that it's hard to walk. He just nods his young head at you.

He goes on to say that the rest of your foot is now trying to compensate and so that's why you hurt so bad. And then he tells you that you have to come back next week so they can cast your foot. And you proceed to freak out and inform him, rather forcibly, that you cannot possibly have a cast on your foot because you have no life other than taking children to and from school and to and from appointments…and you have to walk your niece and nephew to and from school everyday and crutches just won't work.

And when you take a breath, he informs you that the cast is for a mold of your foot for inserts. And that you'll have to wear closed toed shoes. You ask if it will work on flip flops and try to explain to him that,

"Doc, I have to be honest with you. I don't like to wear shoes. At all."

And he informs you that you'll have to change that if you want your foot to stop hurting. You're thrilled that you won't have to wear a cast after all and that these magical inserts will heal the fracture!

"You're wrong," he says. "Those expensive thingies won't heal the fracture, they'll just fix the rest of the foot."

"The fracture," he says, "can only be fixed through surgery at this point. But we already know you don't have time in your life for surgery."

Great. Fine. Ok.

He then goes on to tell you that you'll have to have surgery within five years if you want to save your foot from ulcers and such.

"I'll get on that doc, just as soon as I can get the insurance to pay for my daughter's surgery first!"

Yeah, it was one of those days!

Aug 23 2009

The Smart One

Our youngest son is the one we call the Smart One. He is number four of our children and probably the most interesting one. Or interested one. When I was pregnant with him, his kidneys were full of more than the normal fluid, so we had quite a few ultrasounds to monitor him. For a time, they thought he may have Down's Syndrome, so we prayed our way through that, too. Born two weeks early, he was just fine! Or so we thought.

By the time he was a year old, he'd pretty much stopped eating. He'd never been a fan of baby food and just seemed to have no interest in table food either. He was in failure to thrive and losing weight, so they sent us off to a gastroenterologist and nutritionist, both of whom felt that he just didn't have normal taste buds. Yes, I am serious. He was a smart one though!

At six months, the boy could work a remote control! By the time he was one, he was chatting up a storm. He was so tiny, yet could speak so clearly people were amazed. He had amazing fine motor skills and a fascination for taking things apart and putting them back together.

Throughout the next several years, he'd continue to see different specialists because of his digestive issues, failure to thrive and extreme leg cramps. Finally, when nothing could be found wrong with him, we gave up, and he just learned to live with it. Until a little over a year ago, when we just couldn't take it anymore! So, off to Loma Linda we went in search of some answers! Turns out he has food allergies and cannot have any gluten. Once they were removed, he started to grow and gain weight. Lots of it! (Ok, he's still thin, but 15 pounds in a year is pretty good in my book!)

So what's so different about the boy? Well, he loves tools. Seriously! A few years ago we got him his own set of tools. Yes, real ones. The boy loves to change light bulbs and fix things for us. If Dad is fixing something, he's there. If he can do it on his own before Dad gets home, he will. I call him my toolman!

He also likes to talk. A lot. In detail. Sometimes hubby will call me and ask what I'm doing. I'll tell him I'm listening to the Smart One. He'll reply that he'll call me back in an hour!

He's a funny kid!

He has every "Free-Credit-Report.com" song memorized.

He still loves to take things apart; and then put them back together.

He loves his mom; a plus in my book!

He loves Karate and he's pretty good at it, too. Just got his red belt in August!

He loves to teach others.

He loves his dog; which is so much like him.

He knows how to drive a Bobcat!

He started in the youth group today. He loved it! I'm glad! He's growing up.

And tomorrow he starts middle school. No more homeschooling for him; he'll go into a school of over 1500 middle schoolers. I'm not sure I'm ready. I hope he is. I think he'll like it. I know he's nervous, so I've put up a good front, pretending I'm not.

Tomorrow's a new day for both of us, and I can't wait to hear all about it when he gets home!

Aug 21 2009

B-Boo

B-Boo is our oldest daughter, the exact middle child. And a middle child she is! Only eighteen months younger than the Talented-One, they were often mistaken as twins during the toddler years, although she is more like her oldest brother.

Ever the curious and stubborn child, B-Boo was not an easy baby at all. Well, I take that back. She was a wonderful baby, one who slept all night from the very night she was brought home, up until she turned 10 months old. And learned how to climb out of her crib. At three o'clock in the morning. Upstairs in her bedroom. The master bedroom was downstairs.

So, a friend gave us this crib tent to keep her safe at night. It worked; as long as we remembered to zip it! B-Boo continued to climb. She climbed up the handles on the cabinets to stand on the counters…and then moved onto the top of the refrigerator. When she wasn't finding something in the kitchen to climb, she would climb the stairs to climb on top of the entertainment center. Safety gates didn't work. She'd climb them! We even tried doubling them up one on top of the other. Nope! She'd climb those, too. The higher the climb, the more determined she became! Unbelievably, the only time she ever got hurt was when she climbed up onto the fireplace, not long after it had been turned off. She received a pretty bad burn on her hand, but it left no permanent physical, or mental, scars. On her, at least.

By the time she was three, we realized that she not only was a dare devil, but she also had an amazing flexibility. The Good-Looking One had taken a gymnastics class and she want in! So we enrolled her in a little class, which led to several years of gymnastics, including four years of heavy competition and three years of State Champion medals.

By the time she decided she needed a break, she was 12 years old. Not much later, she began to have health issues that would continue over the next year and a half. In retrospect, we were so glad that she made the decision to quit competing on her own, rather than to have been forced to quit! As her health continued to worsen, we began the lengthy process of doctors, waiting rooms, tests, and surgeries. It took us from Los Angeles clear to Kansas City, Missouri, but this past fall, we were finally given a diagnosis; endometriosis.

Ever the stubborn, competitive, hard-working girl who becomes more like her mother every day, nothing stops her. She can plan a party, organize anything, play soccer, fall on her face and keep her mom on track! She is very much my right-hand girl, and I'm not sure what I'd do without her. She has the heart of a servant, always putting others first. (Unless you're playing a game, then you'd better watch out because she shows no mercy!) And she loves her family…and can usually talk them into her way of thinking!

B-Boo & the Good-Looking One B-Boo & the Talented One

B-Boo & the Smart One B-Boo & the Drama queen

Recently, B-Boo has started a new ministry in our youth group. It started out from a simple concern for others. She fondly calls them "hobos." She doesn't mean this in a derogatory way at all, but out of a love for those who have so much less than she does. It seems that every time we go somewhere, we encounter one on the corner. She'd quickly start searching the van for a bottle of water and a possible snack. As a mom of many, there's usually something in our van!

From there it led to her wanting me to keep water bottles in the van for when we stop at a corner; just in case someone needs it. We've encountered teen moms, older men hard on their luck, younger men hard on their luck, etc. All kinds. And it got her thinking; what if we were prepared, ahead of time, for all of these people who just need a little kindness?

Her idea? To fill paper bags with snacks, a drink, little hygiene items, and a personal note of encouragement and keep them in the van. Then, each time we encounter someone on the curb/corner, we'll be able to give them a bag. And they will know that God has placed them on someone's heart. And that He cares.

But what if? What if others did the same thing? Kept a few bags in their car, so while they travel through the week and encounter someone on the corner, they, too, can help!

This Sunday, our youth will be filling up bags and taking 3-5 of them home with them. They will pass these bags out as they go around town this week. We're not sure what we're going to call this ministry yet; "Curbside Caring" "Caring for the Corner" "H & M"…but we're sure it needs to be.

This is B-Boo's heart. So much so, that it hurts her when she sees someone digging through the trash for food. She'll gladly give up her meal for someone else.

When I first decided to write about my family, I really didn't know what I'd say. Tonight, I thought I'd let B-Boo's heart say it for me. There's so much more to her now. She's starting high school, she's growing in her faith; she's growing into a beautiful young lady. That's what I'd like to share about her.