That's better than being crazy and not knowing it, right?
She's eight weeks old and was rescued with her siblings from a shelter that had other not so nice plans for her. She's like a collie/huskie/maybe some St. Bernard mix. In other words, nobody knows but she's cute in this kind of ugly way that I find completely endearing. And she's a sweetheart.
And we don't have a name for her yet although most of us (not shockingly) are leaning towards Lucy.
Well, except for Owen. He wants to name her Peanut Butter or Chicken which is highly ironic considering his relationship with food.........
And we really hope it works out but we do have a three week trial period in case she's not a good match with our kids and Kaia.
So far she loves sleeping in her little laundry basket we set up for her so we'll see how the night goes.
I bombarded Todd with pics of her and he told me I was being unfair and to get the hell out of dodge. Dodge being the animal shelter. (To be fair, before leaving for the shelter, I was under strict instructions from said husband to just hand out the dog treats and not come home with a dog......but also to be fair, he did not instruct me not to go into the cage and fall in love with said puppy...... and technically puppies are different than dogs.......so technically I was not breaking any rules.......) Funniest part was when when I got home and he realized she was the exact same mix as his childhood dog, he had a complete change of heart and told me I should go back and get her. So I immediately picked up the phone to call about her, but luckily for us, it was already too late. She's pending adoption from another family because she's so freaking adorable. And yes we're lucky it worked out that way because let's just be honest, we need another mouth to feed about as much as we need....well I can't think of anything right now......but we don't need another mouth to feed. Let's just say that.
As you know, this blog is authored by our family's matriarch, Rachel. Not today. Today, the rest of the clan have hacked into her account to celebrate her big day. So here goes with a tribute to the glue that holds the Fab Fischer 5 together.
Mommy you are so pretty. You are so nice because you like to watch movies on Sunday nights with me and Emma Grace and Owen. I like you because you like to tuck me into bed and you are like the queen today because it is your birthday. I love you! I hope you enjoy your birthday!
Mommy loves me because I want to go bowling (There was a bowling coupon on the table and he got distracted). I love Mommy because she plays with me and takes me to Miss Ashley's. She lets me drink water. I like that she gives me toys. I want to tell her Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday Mommy. I like that you watch us and that you watch movies with us. You are beautiful and I love that you're funny like me. You're a lot like me :). Well, have a good Birthday! (She had to get back to making you flowers from paper and pipe cleaners)
- Emma Grace
I know I annoy you when I drink water for 10 minutes straight and snore in my bed but I want you to know I love you. I try to earn my keep by letting Owen crawl all over me without biting him. Every time I puke on the floor or take a dump in the house and Todd gets mad because he has to clean it up you always stick up for me. Thanks for that. You're right, "I am getting old." Nice to know you are too. Happy Birthday!
I can't believe we have celebrated 16 of your birthdays together. Words can't express how much you mean to me. I love your crazy humor, the depth of your love for our family and the fact that you always put up with my annoying habits (and smells). Basically I want to say thanks for being the most wonderful wife and mother of my children I could possibly imagine. Happy Birthday!
Happy 35th Birthday to the most wonderful wife/mother a family could ever dream to have. From your crazy family...
For seven weeks out of the year, we let the children participate in an extracurricular activity.
I know. Seven weeks. We're amazing parents.
And they chose soccer again this fall.
And somehow, with absolutely zero practice between last fall and this fall, they actually improved. They were much more aggressive and Isaac almost scored a goal.
And also, even though I just said we were amazing parents, I lied. Todd and I are actually the worst soccer parents ever. Not only do we forget to practice with them between seasons, but we always forget water. Always. We never forget to take our coffee though. Priorities, yo.
It is so bad, though one of my friend's finds it humorous.....
So here are some fun pics of our dehydrated kids:
I call this next picture the
"holy crap, I can't believe I actually kicked it" shot.
This is the "Where's Waldo The Diva?" pic:
Followed by the "I'm so confused.....where do I kick it again?" pic:
And Lil' Man had a blast behind the field and was not to be deterred from some soccer time. Who needs a team?
And this is my "reason why we don't pay for the professional pictures" shot. All I need to do is edit out the people in the background and voila.......
Todd said, "I read your blog. I'm so proud of you. I love that you're not afraid to just put it all out there and not worry about what others will think."
But come on, really? I think I started losing my pride the minute that little boy claimed his space in my world. I mean even when I was pregnant he got stuck in an awkward spot and I had to go to the hospital and I'll actually spare you the details of getting him back to where he needed to be, but let's just say, there was no pride in that room. It was sheer and utter humiliation...... And God was probably laughing and thinking "oh, just you wait. Because this one is going to change you from the inside out. I have big plans for this one and you and what you "think" life should look like."
And I'm thankful God had those plans.
Because when you're clawing your way out of the trench, it gives you a perspective you might not have had otherwise.
And we're clawing our way out of this damn trench.
The OT says she thinks it was just a perfect storm of too many changes and too man nasty eosinophils that sent him spiraling.
And he's slowly returning to his normal.
Because that means I can slowly return to my normal.
Which isn't "normal" just so you know. :)
But Todd took him to school today and he had another great drop-off. That's two days in a row.
And I get to do this:
Coffee, candles, Adele, and blogging in a quiet house.
And I'm really really hoping I see the end in sight, but seeing as I can't predict the future, unfortunately I can't promise that. We are having a "Rut of Unusual Size." (Kind of like the ROUS from The Princess Bride but less hairy.....)
Everybody has Ruts. Funks. Trenches. Bad days. Bad weeks. Bad months. Down times. Rainy Days. Slumps. Depressions. Hard Times. Seasons. Call them what you want. I prefer the ruts or the trenches because in a storm, you get down in the trench, pray you don't get struck by lightning or caught up in the tornado, and stay low to the ground until the sky clears.
And boy are we in a deep trench right now. We're praying and waiting for the sky to clear. We're in survival mode. Owen has some evaluations and new therapies starting this week that we're excited about and so I'm trying my best to remain hopeful that all this trouble is just related to transitions and school and EE and that soon we'll be back to our normal level of craziness instead of this elevated level of non-stop screaming craziness......
But it's a hard thing, that remaining hopeful thing. Because when you just have a bad day here or there, you can see the light at the end of the tunnel and you know this is temporary. But holy smokes, when those bad days start stringing themselves together into one long-ass, never ending bad day, it's easy to get sucked into the tornado and believe it's never going to stop swirling around beyond your control. And Satan likes to attack while you're in the trench. He just loves to go after you when you're weak. He's like that pesky sibling that points out your flaws and knows exactly how to push your buttons. (Not that me or my siblings were ever like that......of course not.......never......) But that Satan is a real piece of work. He whispers little lies in your ear while you're laying in the trench clinging to anything you can find for safety and support: "Hey Rachel, you know, he's always going to scream like this. Always. And you're always going to need meds to help you sleep. Seriously. You're never going to sleep like a normal person again. And you know, none of your friends are going through this; you are totally alone. ALONE. You're not doing enough for him, you know that right? And you're definitely not doing enough for your other two kids. Poor things. Their whole world just orbits around him on his bad days. You wouldn't even take them on a Labor Day trip because of his needs. How do you think that makes them feel? How do you think it made your family feel? You're a terrible mother. Really, really bad mother. The worst. And on top of all that, you don't even fold your laundry. I mean it just lays in a heap in the corner. Who does that? And we won't even talk about how slow you run these days..... Okay the last part was a joke but really, he's a really good liar. And I know that, but dang-it, sometimes I still listen and believe him.
In spite of my many many many weak moments recently, I know in my core that God's got this. He does. I know He loves me and my family and that's the only truth that matters. But I also wish sometimes that God's version of digging us out of the trench would match up perfectly with my version of it. Wouldn't that be awesomesauce? Doesn't happen in this world though because He knows what I need better than I do.
So this past weekend, I gave myself the "Dave Roberts Parental Speech." If you grew up in my family, then you know the one. The one where my parents didn't take any excuses and told me to essentially "suck it up and move on." They used more eloquent words most of the time, but they always taught me that life is not fair and that you just gotta keep going and do your best and live up to what you can be. And I appreciate them for those lessons. Well, now I do. Of course, I pretty much thought they were old fogies and hated the lectures back then, but now I see the value in their non-coddling ways. And you always knew the lecture was over when Dad would say: "I'm not going to charge you for that one." And he never did, thank God, or else I would owe him a LOT of money.
So anyhow, last week when Todd was out of town, I pictured my dad standing in front of me and decided, screaming or no screaming, we're going to survive and do our best, and give each other breaks, and not beat ourselves up if we shed a few tears, and basically suck it up, trust God, and move on.
And it was a hard weekend, but we did it.
I got a date night with my most favorite six year old in the world on Friday night and we had a blast. He is such a blessing and knows exactly how to get me laughing.
And Saturday while I dealt with this,
I told Isaac to go play as many video games as he wanted to play while Todd and the diva went out on a date. And shock of all shockers, they went shopping together, which made me fall in love with Todd even more because I know that is the last thing he wanted to do. And dang they're cute together.
And Saturday night, even though we knew the odds were stacked against us, we went to a crowded birthday party. And it was rough at first, but Owen calmed down after awhile and I was so glad we were there amongst non screaming adults.
And believe me when I say, I am not trying to brag or act like we've got it all together when times are tough. Because you read the part about it having been a rough month, right? I'm just now starting to feel like myself again. I seriously don't know how people struggle for long periods of time and hold their crap together. One day I cried for so long that my eyes pretty much swelled shut. It was so so annoying and embarrassing and it made running a lot harder. And while I was running, I set five minute non-crying goals for myself. Five minutes. How pathetic is that? And I would make it five minutes without crying and then want to cry with relief that I hadn't cried and then realize that would defeat the purpose of the whole non crying exercise and set my timer for another five minutes. Seriously. Crazy Town was visited this past month. Multiple times.
And there are so many people out there who struggle a lot more than we do. And I pray for them. A lot. I know their faith is being tested and must be bigger than mine. And I pray that they have as great a support system around them as we do, because we do. We have awesome people rooting for us. Awesome, awesome people.
And it's because of those awesome people and our awesome God that we're going into this week with hope. And with trust. And with the first genuinely good morning we've had in a long, long time:
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and
petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace
of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and
your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV)
And if you happen to still be reading this epically long update and gleaned some tiny nugget of wisdom from my mistakes, you're welcome.
He chewed his fingers the whole way there and never said a word.
He knew it was coming.
Yet another transition. Another change to his world.
So he stayed silent and chewed and waited.
And when we got there, he was confused.
"This is my old school...... Not church.......School."
"Yes, Owen. School. Remember how we've been talking about you going back to school?"
"No. Not church. School. Do you want to carry your toy dinosaur in with you?"
"No, Mommy. I don't want it."
Atta boy. Day one and no transition object.
And he walked in. And he stared at his feet while his teacher talked to him and tried to pull him out. And he gave me a kiss. And he walked over to the pretend bus and climbed right in and crouched in the corner.
And that's okay. They'll draw him out. They know what they're doing.
And there were no tears.
And that is a dang good first day transition in our books.
Way to go, brave boy.
You rock my socks.
The world could learn some things from you on being brave and stepping out of your comfort zone to do things you don't want to do.