Wednesday, December 7th, 2011
I woke up in a wet bed. It was just after 8:30am and I was pleased to have been able to sleep in that morning. I wasn't so pleased by how I was awoken. My water had broken. I know many women doubt when that happens, wondering if they had peed instead, but I knew exactly what it was. I slowly climbed out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, where more amniotic fluid trickled out. I began the process of preparing myself for the day...brushing my teeth, washing my face and adding a small bit of makeup, brushing my hair, dressing myself, etc. I did all of this while sitting down on the closed toilet seat. Every time I stood up, there would be another gush and I would have to change the sanitary pad. Blah! So, I sent out the calls to let everyone know what was going on and Brian made his way home from work. Then, hunched over (walking that way seemed to prevent any gushes) I woke the girls and got them dressed. With their help I finished packing my hospital bag. Luckily, there wasn't much left to put in there. I sent the girls downstairs to eat breakfast while they waited for help to arrive. We had friends from church coming over to watch the kids.
Sitting there waiting for Brian to arrive I could only feel a bit of disbelief. After all, this was happening a full two weeks earlier than my due date. That had never happened in the course of my previous four pregnancies. All my other babies were either late or induced a week early or right on time (Lena on her due date.) Of course I realize that the due date is set right in the middle of when the baby could arrive. Two weeks earlier or two weeks later was not unusual. But for me, it certainly wasn't expected. I had been nesting, so I had the majority of things done and ready. We didn't have a car seat, though, since we ordered a new one online and were waiting for it to be delivered (it arrived that very day.) And the bassinet hadn't been set up, but that wasn't time consuming so Brian could easily assemble it later. We were ready by most people's standards.
But, as you know from my last post, I wasn't. Emotionally I wasn't prepared for the baby to arrive. I wanted more time. The little one inside of me had other ideas, however. It was like he was calling out, "Ready or not! Here I come!"
The hospital is literally only five minutes from our house so there was no mad dash to get there like there was when we lived in Kentucky. We had toured the hospital that very Sunday before so we knew exactly where to go and what to do. At the Labor and Delivery desk we were checked in and I was taken to a room, where I was informed that they wouldn't usually do so without thoroughly confirming my bag of waters had broken but since this was my fifth child they didn't want to take any chances. As if I wouldn't know by now, after four live births, how this went! Still, they had to check to be sure even though I had just discarded a sanitary pad full of clear amniotic fluid. According to the nurse, doctors give them the third degree so they have to do the same to us to make sure before calling them into the hospital. Having that confirmed, I went through the normal routine of getting an IV, putting external monitors on for the baby and my contractions, which I was having none at the time. I am one of the 5% of women who have their water break before contractions begin. The same thing happened when I had Lena. The doctor swooped in shortly after and checked me out, ordered pitocin to get the contractions going, and said she would return after lunch unless needed earlier. I settled in for a long day.
Lunchtime arrived and I had not dilated as much as the doctor would have liked so my pitocin level was upped. I hadn't really felt much of the contractions though I was 4cm. About thirty minutes later the contractions were rolling in big and strong. It was still nothing I couldn't handle, though. The nurse asked if I wanted an epidural. I declined at the moment, thinking I could hold off until I was uncomfortable. I enjoy witnessing the birth of my children relaxed and not struggling to control the pain. Having given birth with and without complete pain relief, I knew having an epidural would provide me with a better opportunity to take in the first few moments of my child's life.
Then the back pain kicked in. I had always heard that back pain was horrible. Now, I knew it to be true. There was no relief from this pain. It was constant and consumed my back, hips, and radiated down my legs. I had no rest between contractions. At 5cm, I asked if I could get that epidural. I had always waited until 8cm before but the back pain took it to a whole new level. My request was added to the list of waiting mothers.
I huffed and puffed and was soon at 6cm. No epidural. I squirmed and moaned and made it to 7cm. Still no epidural. As the urge to push set in, I knew in the back of my head that my window for pain relief had passed. I was at 8cm and quickly nearly 9. The nurse said I could try to hold off by cutting the pitocin or I could go for it and she would up the pitocin. I was in mid contraction so I told her "I don't care!" LOL She cut the pitocin. It didn't matter, this baby was on his way. "Ready or not! Here I come!" The doctor arrived just in time. Nurses hurried to set up delivery equipment. I tried not to push until they were ready. An EMT student asked permission to watch the birth. At that point, I really could care less. All I wanted to do was to push! Finally, it was time to get the baby out. Push! Push! Push! The pushing was not nearly as bad as the back labor. I did tear. For the first time, I had broken blood vessels all over my face and neck from pushing. But that little baby boy came out and was absolute perfection.
Taite Dowell Gaskin was born at 4:24pm weighing in at 8.67lbs and was 21.5 inches long. I was relieved that he had decided to arrive before it was estimated. I did not want to have a ten pounder. I was relieved and I was....exhausted. I had been pushing with my eyes clamped shut so I did not get to see his birth as I would have liked (in a mirror.) I was so tired afterward, I struggled to keep my eyes open to cuddle with him, answer questions from the doctor and nurse, and watch as he underwent the Apgar test. He passed with a 9, of course. Ah, labor is aptly named!
Having been home a week today, I have realized that my schedule is flexible. I can adapt to this new arrival much easier than I expected. I have realized that having a newborn is probably the easiest stage of child rearing. And, I have realized that no matter how many children I have, there is still room in my heart for another.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Anticipation
I have 3 weeks to go until I am due to give birth to my fifth child. At this point, most pregnant women are begging their doctors to induce. Or they take the induction in their own hands by drinking castor oil, going on long walks or bumpy drives, or by using the method that got them into the situation in the first place. ;-D
I, however, am not ready for this pregnancy to be over. Surprised?
I am a bit overwhelmed that this pregnancy has gone by so fast! I haven't had the chance to really sit down and think about this new child or the way this little one will fit into our family. There is a moment that every pregnant woman has where they can sit and sigh and imagine themselves cuddling their new arrival. It may happen when shopping for the layette or while putting the tiny onesies and newborn diapers away in the nursery. It may happen when they see that ultrasound photo for the first time or feel the baby move. And while I have done all of the above activities, I have not had this emotional moment.
Why not, you ask? The answer is very simple. I have four other kids. That I homeschool. And a Girl Scout troop (that I get NO help with.) And co-op, church, mission trip planning, outreach planning, cleaning, laundry, cooking, couponing, budgeting, yard work, etc. etc. etc. (input a mental image of Yul Brynner.) Not that I don't enjoy many of these activities but I do not get a break. Most nights I fall into bed exhausted and am already thinking about what is in store for the next day. I feel guilty for not calling my family and friends back in Kentucky often enough. But it really is hard to carry on a real conversation while I have kids running underfoot, the washing machine running in the background and I am struggling to see the stairs as I carry up a laundry basket and balance the phone between my ear and shoulder. Even if I lock myself in the bathroom for a moment of sanity or a business call, there will inevitably be a child crying at the top of their lungs outside the door, one yelling up the laundry chute, and another being suspiciously quiet down in the kitchen (sneaking a cookie...or dumping the brand new box of cereal all over the floor I just cleaned.) That is just normal life in our household. It is never dull or boring. And this is the atmosphere I thrive in. At the end of the day I have accomplished what most people take weeks or months to do. I usually have a clean house and happy children and a project or assignment of some sort completed.
I am productive (and reproductive.) But, the one thing that I often put at the bottom of my to-do list is: ME!
If I make the list at all. I know this is a chronic illness with many mothers. I know I am not a lone soldier in the army of child rearing. And with my past pregnancies, I had that moment to savor the new little one. I had time to think about personality and whether this child would look like me or Brian. I had a moment to tenderly hang baby clothes and to marvel about the creation I held inside my womb. But this time, I have hurriedly painted the nursery, washed the clothes without a thought to the wearer, and went down the get-ready-for-baby checklist methodically. Preparing for baby was just one more thing to fit in the day and check off the list. There were no naps to dream about little hands and feet. Baths were another opportunity to get my reading done and not a relaxing time to daydream about how sweet it would be to embrace a new child. Sad, I know. My practicality can be a disadvantage, for sure.
I cleaned and reorganized my bedroom closet this week (trying to make room for the Christmas presents I have to stash...and, yes, my shopping is done.) When I couldn't reach the top shelf because my belly was in the way I became rather frustrated and wished that I could just detach the bump for the time being and clean! Crazy, I know. I keep trudging along, trying to get things done and prepare. I laugh at the pregnancy books and apps that talk about resting and relaxing in preparation for labor day. I marvel at moms who talk about the naps they took while pregnant (and some have as many kids as I do...think homeschool co-op.) So, while I have been busy with all of these things, I have missed out on one of the most amazing things! I have missed out on the development and growth of my own baby. Pretty impressive since it is inside my own body, huh?
That is why I am not ready for this baby boy to arrive. I haven't had my emotional moment to prepare my heart. I haven't taken a deep breath of the irresistible smell of baby. I haven't given serious thought to what this new little man will have in my life. Yes, there will be more things to add to my to-do list, but I have not given any thought to the incredible joy he will bring. And that, my friends, is why I do not want these last 3 weeks to go by. I want to hit the pause button to absorb this moment of maternity (& most likely my last one.) Instead of three seconds, I want these last weeks to feel like 3 years! I want to note each movement inside my womb. I want to stare at the baby crib and sigh in anticipation of the little one that will soon fill it. And I want to fill out the baby book with a note just for this new member of the Gaskin family.
Labor day will come sooner than I would like, I know. I will get my day of rest then. And I fully plan on focusing intently on that tiny bundle that it brings. A day for just the two of us. Ah! The anticipation!
I, however, am not ready for this pregnancy to be over. Surprised?
I am a bit overwhelmed that this pregnancy has gone by so fast! I haven't had the chance to really sit down and think about this new child or the way this little one will fit into our family. There is a moment that every pregnant woman has where they can sit and sigh and imagine themselves cuddling their new arrival. It may happen when shopping for the layette or while putting the tiny onesies and newborn diapers away in the nursery. It may happen when they see that ultrasound photo for the first time or feel the baby move. And while I have done all of the above activities, I have not had this emotional moment.
Why not, you ask? The answer is very simple. I have four other kids. That I homeschool. And a Girl Scout troop (that I get NO help with.) And co-op, church, mission trip planning, outreach planning, cleaning, laundry, cooking, couponing, budgeting, yard work, etc. etc. etc. (input a mental image of Yul Brynner.) Not that I don't enjoy many of these activities but I do not get a break. Most nights I fall into bed exhausted and am already thinking about what is in store for the next day. I feel guilty for not calling my family and friends back in Kentucky often enough. But it really is hard to carry on a real conversation while I have kids running underfoot, the washing machine running in the background and I am struggling to see the stairs as I carry up a laundry basket and balance the phone between my ear and shoulder. Even if I lock myself in the bathroom for a moment of sanity or a business call, there will inevitably be a child crying at the top of their lungs outside the door, one yelling up the laundry chute, and another being suspiciously quiet down in the kitchen (sneaking a cookie...or dumping the brand new box of cereal all over the floor I just cleaned.) That is just normal life in our household. It is never dull or boring. And this is the atmosphere I thrive in. At the end of the day I have accomplished what most people take weeks or months to do. I usually have a clean house and happy children and a project or assignment of some sort completed.
I am productive (and reproductive.) But, the one thing that I often put at the bottom of my to-do list is: ME!
If I make the list at all. I know this is a chronic illness with many mothers. I know I am not a lone soldier in the army of child rearing. And with my past pregnancies, I had that moment to savor the new little one. I had time to think about personality and whether this child would look like me or Brian. I had a moment to tenderly hang baby clothes and to marvel about the creation I held inside my womb. But this time, I have hurriedly painted the nursery, washed the clothes without a thought to the wearer, and went down the get-ready-for-baby checklist methodically. Preparing for baby was just one more thing to fit in the day and check off the list. There were no naps to dream about little hands and feet. Baths were another opportunity to get my reading done and not a relaxing time to daydream about how sweet it would be to embrace a new child. Sad, I know. My practicality can be a disadvantage, for sure.
I cleaned and reorganized my bedroom closet this week (trying to make room for the Christmas presents I have to stash...and, yes, my shopping is done.) When I couldn't reach the top shelf because my belly was in the way I became rather frustrated and wished that I could just detach the bump for the time being and clean! Crazy, I know. I keep trudging along, trying to get things done and prepare. I laugh at the pregnancy books and apps that talk about resting and relaxing in preparation for labor day. I marvel at moms who talk about the naps they took while pregnant (and some have as many kids as I do...think homeschool co-op.) So, while I have been busy with all of these things, I have missed out on one of the most amazing things! I have missed out on the development and growth of my own baby. Pretty impressive since it is inside my own body, huh?
That is why I am not ready for this baby boy to arrive. I haven't had my emotional moment to prepare my heart. I haven't taken a deep breath of the irresistible smell of baby. I haven't given serious thought to what this new little man will have in my life. Yes, there will be more things to add to my to-do list, but I have not given any thought to the incredible joy he will bring. And that, my friends, is why I do not want these last 3 weeks to go by. I want to hit the pause button to absorb this moment of maternity (& most likely my last one.) Instead of three seconds, I want these last weeks to feel like 3 years! I want to note each movement inside my womb. I want to stare at the baby crib and sigh in anticipation of the little one that will soon fill it. And I want to fill out the baby book with a note just for this new member of the Gaskin family.
Labor day will come sooner than I would like, I know. I will get my day of rest then. And I fully plan on focusing intently on that tiny bundle that it brings. A day for just the two of us. Ah! The anticipation!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Why we do not celebrate Halloween
Stop and think for a moment: What does Halloween celebrate? Many people would reply commercialism. Others are probably still scratching their heads. If you look at the history of the holiday, it is a pagan holiday. While our reasons for not celebrating Halloween can be tied to both of those explanations, it is not the core reason why we have chosen as a family not to indulge in a very "worldy" holiday.
Four years ago, we decided to stop celebrating Halloween. Brian and I had grown up in families where the holiday was partaken just as most American families do. We wore costumes as children and went trick or treating. We harbored large stashes of candy and went to scary houses. When we had kids of our own, we continued with the tradition without stopping to really think if it was something that would benefit our children. And so, one year when I was trying to make costumes and beat the rush for a store bought one, I paused to analyze that very question. Why do we celebrate Halloween? I could think of no good reason other than it was what we had always done. And being my anal self, I made a list of pros and cons. Surprisingly, there were more cons than pros!
So, here are some of the reasons we have decided to spend time together as a family rather than celebrate Halloween (in no particular order):
1) It is rude and greedy. Before you get your panties in a bunch, just hear me out. It teaches our children bad manners. What other time would demanding something from someone at their house or threatening them with a prank be acceptable? Yes, everyone does it that one night. But does it make it right? I did not want to be counterproductive to the values I was teaching my children the other 364 days of the year. Nor did I want to indulge their naturally greedy natures by telling them that collecting loads of candy was okay because it was Halloween. They already have everything they need. I want my children to be content with what they have and not constantly striving to get more ____________(you can fill in the blank.) I have had some argue that it helps them use their good manners because they have to take turns getting candy and they say "please" and "thank you." I guess that makes it okay to rob a bank as long as you wait in line and ask nicely for the money. Oh, yeah, don't forget to say "thank you" as you run to the getaway car. ;-)
2) It isn't healthy. Loads of sugar and fat. Need I say more?
3)It doesn't glorify God. As many of you know, I am a Christian. Glorifying God is very important to our family. This holiday can go against many of the things God has laid out for us to follow (see greed, above) and it allows fear into our hearts and minds. How many people watch scary movies or go to "haunted" houses for the thrill? God tells us to guard our hearts from things that will make us susceptible to Satan. Allowing fears into our hearts and minds that were not there before creates a weakness in us. It opens another door for Satan to enter. Many see it as harmless, but my job as a mother is to protect my children and to make them feel secure. Am I doing my job if I encourage these fears to take root in their lives? The world is a scary enough place without creating fear for the fun of it.
4) It takes away from family time. Confusing, I know, since many people associate Halloween with family time, but how much quality family time are you spending together when you are out trick or treating? Not much. Our family has taken this holiday and reserved it for some real quality time. When we lived in Kentucky, we would gather at my mom's house for a family game night. We would eat chili and play different board games together. This year, we will not be able to spend time at my mom's house, but we are planning on eating a nice meal together and then spending a few hours either playing games or going to see a kid-friendly movie.
Halloween isn't something that we celebrate anymore, but that doesn't mean we are against those who do. When we decided to not celebrate, I gave all my Halloween decorations to a good friend who loves the holiday. This year, we served at a community Halloween festival for young kids with our church. (God works everywhere. Even Halloween events.) Everyone has their reasons to celebrate or not, and I know that we are in the minority. These are our reasons and we do not push them on others. Each family must make their own decisions on what they celebrate as a family and why.
Though...I would like to print this to pass out to all the adults who look at me like I am a monster when I calmly tell them that we do not celebrate Halloween. I must be terrifying in their eyes. ;-D
So, Happy last day of October! I hope it is a safe and happy one... whatever you do!
Four years ago, we decided to stop celebrating Halloween. Brian and I had grown up in families where the holiday was partaken just as most American families do. We wore costumes as children and went trick or treating. We harbored large stashes of candy and went to scary houses. When we had kids of our own, we continued with the tradition without stopping to really think if it was something that would benefit our children. And so, one year when I was trying to make costumes and beat the rush for a store bought one, I paused to analyze that very question. Why do we celebrate Halloween? I could think of no good reason other than it was what we had always done. And being my anal self, I made a list of pros and cons. Surprisingly, there were more cons than pros!
So, here are some of the reasons we have decided to spend time together as a family rather than celebrate Halloween (in no particular order):
1) It is rude and greedy. Before you get your panties in a bunch, just hear me out. It teaches our children bad manners. What other time would demanding something from someone at their house or threatening them with a prank be acceptable? Yes, everyone does it that one night. But does it make it right? I did not want to be counterproductive to the values I was teaching my children the other 364 days of the year. Nor did I want to indulge their naturally greedy natures by telling them that collecting loads of candy was okay because it was Halloween. They already have everything they need. I want my children to be content with what they have and not constantly striving to get more ____________(you can fill in the blank.) I have had some argue that it helps them use their good manners because they have to take turns getting candy and they say "please" and "thank you." I guess that makes it okay to rob a bank as long as you wait in line and ask nicely for the money. Oh, yeah, don't forget to say "thank you" as you run to the getaway car. ;-)
2) It isn't healthy. Loads of sugar and fat. Need I say more?
3)It doesn't glorify God. As many of you know, I am a Christian. Glorifying God is very important to our family. This holiday can go against many of the things God has laid out for us to follow (see greed, above) and it allows fear into our hearts and minds. How many people watch scary movies or go to "haunted" houses for the thrill? God tells us to guard our hearts from things that will make us susceptible to Satan. Allowing fears into our hearts and minds that were not there before creates a weakness in us. It opens another door for Satan to enter. Many see it as harmless, but my job as a mother is to protect my children and to make them feel secure. Am I doing my job if I encourage these fears to take root in their lives? The world is a scary enough place without creating fear for the fun of it.
4) It takes away from family time. Confusing, I know, since many people associate Halloween with family time, but how much quality family time are you spending together when you are out trick or treating? Not much. Our family has taken this holiday and reserved it for some real quality time. When we lived in Kentucky, we would gather at my mom's house for a family game night. We would eat chili and play different board games together. This year, we will not be able to spend time at my mom's house, but we are planning on eating a nice meal together and then spending a few hours either playing games or going to see a kid-friendly movie.
Halloween isn't something that we celebrate anymore, but that doesn't mean we are against those who do. When we decided to not celebrate, I gave all my Halloween decorations to a good friend who loves the holiday. This year, we served at a community Halloween festival for young kids with our church. (God works everywhere. Even Halloween events.) Everyone has their reasons to celebrate or not, and I know that we are in the minority. These are our reasons and we do not push them on others. Each family must make their own decisions on what they celebrate as a family and why.
Though...I would like to print this to pass out to all the adults who look at me like I am a monster when I calmly tell them that we do not celebrate Halloween. I must be terrifying in their eyes. ;-D
So, Happy last day of October! I hope it is a safe and happy one... whatever you do!
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Oakwood Update
Okay, I started this blog to keep everyone apprised of how our move and transition to Oakwood was going. I know that some of my posts have not been about that but rather little tidbits going on in my life or things that God has laid on my heart to share. So, I just wanted to let everyone know how things are going in the neighborhood and perhaps in the family altogether.
Oakwood football: Brian has been coaching Oakwood football at the middle school level. The position was open at the right time and since it is within walking distance, he applied. He enjoys it, though it is more frustrating than working with those in high school (yeah, I was surprised to hear that too.) He introduced me to a few of his players the other day. They aren't exactly what you would call the "football type." But Brian said they may not be big but they were the "Mean Seventeen." I had to laugh when one of the boys said, "Yeah, but we aren't mean." So...I guess that means they are just seventeen of them. Either way, he is enjoying the season and he is getting paid for it. I am glad as well. I cannot imagine a season when he isn't coaching and the thought of him not getting to this fall kinda made me sad. Plus, the middle school season isn't as intense or as long as high school, which is perfect since we are busy preparing for the upcoming arrival of baby #5.
So, baby #5: In case you haven't heard, we are expecting our 5th child in December. A baby boy this time! I have created a website to keep everyone posted on what is happening in that area of our family growth. Check it out here: Gaskin Baby #5 website We have been preparing by switching around bedrooms and collecting much needed and appreciated hand me downs from friends and family. Thanks so much to everyone who has blessed us with a gift for our new baby boy!
Settling in: I am happy to say that I only have about 6 more boxes to unpack! Yeah! Finally! As we were switching the girls' bedrooms around (Tierney and Lena now share a room while Maebry and our new baby will share the other) I finally unpacked the remaining boxes of girls' stuff. The girls were super stoked about seeing toys they hadn't played with since last December. Maebry would squeal every time I opened a new box. It was very exciting for them....and a bit overwhelming for me. I have decided we will be making a healthy donation to the Goodwill in the next few weeks. BTW, Isaac is relieved that he will not be sharing his bedroom even though this baby is a boy.
My list of to-do projects around the house are being slowly whittled down and I find joy in marking each one off my list. I have finally decided on what to do with the dining room but probably won't tackle that project until next spring. We are also selling various items on Craigslist now (it is so easy to use!) and getting rid of the excess furniture we have.
Oakwood-- the neighborhood: Oakwood has started to grow on us. It is hard to be too disgruntled when there are so many amenities available.We relaxed at the pool over the summer. I scored over 70 new books at the community wide book swap. Isaac is still taking guitar lessons, Lena is signed up for another ballet class, and Tierney will be playing basketball in the local rec league. Isaac has signed up for basketball in the neighboring community of Kettering where the league is bigger. The neighbors have settled down (or perhaps we just deal with them better) since school has resumed. The changing leaves have turned the area into a very picturesque place to reside. We went to the Fall Festival this past weekend and enjoyed a hayride, face painting, games, bouncy houses, pumpkin painting, doughnut eating contest, and the playground. It was all FREE! (Taxpayer "free," of course.) Oakwood may have a "snobbish" reputation, but for the most part, the people we have met are very friendly.
Girl Scouts: Our troop started meeting in August, and under my new leadership have an organized and productive time. The girls have commented on how they enjoy the new format better than last year (when chaos reigned) and now have a big part in planning what they do at each meeting. The only issue we are having is parent support. I have been left alone with the girls at two meetings now and that is unacceptable. I sent out a parent rotation list for volunteers to sign up to help. Only three parents have said they would help. If the issue of support continues, I will be resigning as leader. Not only is it against Girl Scout policy that I be alone with a bunch of girls, but it is also unsafe. If there was an emergency, it would create a dilemma of getting help, etc. I am enjoying spending time with the troop so hopefully this issue can be resolved.
Homeschooling: We started our homeschool year in August. It has been going great despite the fact that we are slightly behind schedule. I have been more flexible with our schedule though, and we have gone on more field trips and outings this year. It is only October and we have gone on 4 field trips! Of course, I am an overachiever so what we do accomplish will still be about triple what they would get in public school.
We have also enrolled in a co-op. The kids love it and have made many new friends. Isaac's classes are speech, finances, chemistry, and computer programming. Tierney is taking P.E., Devotionals, Art Appreciation & Science (I teach of few of these.) Lena is in a pre-school class and is always excited to attend. Maebry is in a toddler class and brings home many craft projects too. I have really savored the chance to get to know other moms in the group and truly appreciate the parent enrichment portions that are provided when we aren't teaching. We get brunch and a speaker comes in to uplift us in God's Word and encourage us with practical advice for homeschooling issues. I feel that we all have grown in a positive way since we joined this group! And, having 4 kids seems to be the norm! In fact, the majority of families there have 4-5 children each. That is a considerable number since there are 56 families! Beware: Homeschoolers shall inherit the earth! (Or rejoice, as the case may be!)
Church: I saved the most exciting part for last! Renovation Church is why we moved to Ohio. Yes, it was God's command, but this inspiring church was the reason. Many people think of church as a building. We can take that out of the equation here, though. We do not own a building. We do not have a permanent place, really. Every Sunday the curtains, the stage, the instruments, the lights, the sound equipment all go up. Gymnastic equipment is removed to do so and is cleared from other rooms where the nursery and kids rooms are set up. We are not attached to a building. There is no building fund. We do not pay anyone to come in and set this up. Set up and tear down afterwards is done by our family. When I say "our family," I am not talking about the 6 members of the Gaskin clan (though 3-4 help the process) but of the family of brothers and sisters in Christ that make up Renovation Church. We are in this together. We serve together and do so joyfully. In fact, we make it look so fun that many visitors join in (though we never expect them to!) That is what you get with Renovation. You get a family. We hang out with each other, take care of each others needs, watch each others kids, and support one another (more so than many biologically connected families.) I have been lectured on putting my church family before my blood family before, but let me tell you, my church family is my blood family. We are connected by the blood of Christ and that bond is for all eternity. I love my biological family, don't get me wrong, but it is only an earthly tie. My bond with my church family (and my other fellow Christians throughout the world) is a much stronger link. We can never be separated. Not even by death! We are in this together forever and have the same purpose-- to bring God glory!
Renovation Church has been reaching out to the community in many ways. We have been serving the needs of those around us and are planning to serve global needs as well with a trip to Haiti in the spring. Every month brings several new ways to serve and connect with those who need love and Jesus in our lives. It has been a very encouraging year, seeing people saved! Learning and growing together with our small groups, mens groups, and ladies groups has only tightened the bond that our family has. In the current series, we are taking this relationship to a whole new level! Covenant Community delves into how we are "Bound to Christ, United to One Another." I encourage everyone to check out the podcasts !
As you can see, we have been busy but blessed. God has opened my eyes to reveal the opportunities to serve and love in this new area we now call home. Thanks for reading along as we undertake this journey! Stay tuned for more posts!
Oakwood football: Brian has been coaching Oakwood football at the middle school level. The position was open at the right time and since it is within walking distance, he applied. He enjoys it, though it is more frustrating than working with those in high school (yeah, I was surprised to hear that too.) He introduced me to a few of his players the other day. They aren't exactly what you would call the "football type." But Brian said they may not be big but they were the "Mean Seventeen." I had to laugh when one of the boys said, "Yeah, but we aren't mean." So...I guess that means they are just seventeen of them. Either way, he is enjoying the season and he is getting paid for it. I am glad as well. I cannot imagine a season when he isn't coaching and the thought of him not getting to this fall kinda made me sad. Plus, the middle school season isn't as intense or as long as high school, which is perfect since we are busy preparing for the upcoming arrival of baby #5.
So, baby #5: In case you haven't heard, we are expecting our 5th child in December. A baby boy this time! I have created a website to keep everyone posted on what is happening in that area of our family growth. Check it out here: Gaskin Baby #5 website We have been preparing by switching around bedrooms and collecting much needed and appreciated hand me downs from friends and family. Thanks so much to everyone who has blessed us with a gift for our new baby boy!
Settling in: I am happy to say that I only have about 6 more boxes to unpack! Yeah! Finally! As we were switching the girls' bedrooms around (Tierney and Lena now share a room while Maebry and our new baby will share the other) I finally unpacked the remaining boxes of girls' stuff. The girls were super stoked about seeing toys they hadn't played with since last December. Maebry would squeal every time I opened a new box. It was very exciting for them....and a bit overwhelming for me. I have decided we will be making a healthy donation to the Goodwill in the next few weeks. BTW, Isaac is relieved that he will not be sharing his bedroom even though this baby is a boy.
My list of to-do projects around the house are being slowly whittled down and I find joy in marking each one off my list. I have finally decided on what to do with the dining room but probably won't tackle that project until next spring. We are also selling various items on Craigslist now (it is so easy to use!) and getting rid of the excess furniture we have.
Oakwood-- the neighborhood: Oakwood has started to grow on us. It is hard to be too disgruntled when there are so many amenities available.We relaxed at the pool over the summer. I scored over 70 new books at the community wide book swap. Isaac is still taking guitar lessons, Lena is signed up for another ballet class, and Tierney will be playing basketball in the local rec league. Isaac has signed up for basketball in the neighboring community of Kettering where the league is bigger. The neighbors have settled down (or perhaps we just deal with them better) since school has resumed. The changing leaves have turned the area into a very picturesque place to reside. We went to the Fall Festival this past weekend and enjoyed a hayride, face painting, games, bouncy houses, pumpkin painting, doughnut eating contest, and the playground. It was all FREE! (Taxpayer "free," of course.) Oakwood may have a "snobbish" reputation, but for the most part, the people we have met are very friendly.
Girl Scouts: Our troop started meeting in August, and under my new leadership have an organized and productive time. The girls have commented on how they enjoy the new format better than last year (when chaos reigned) and now have a big part in planning what they do at each meeting. The only issue we are having is parent support. I have been left alone with the girls at two meetings now and that is unacceptable. I sent out a parent rotation list for volunteers to sign up to help. Only three parents have said they would help. If the issue of support continues, I will be resigning as leader. Not only is it against Girl Scout policy that I be alone with a bunch of girls, but it is also unsafe. If there was an emergency, it would create a dilemma of getting help, etc. I am enjoying spending time with the troop so hopefully this issue can be resolved.
Homeschooling: We started our homeschool year in August. It has been going great despite the fact that we are slightly behind schedule. I have been more flexible with our schedule though, and we have gone on more field trips and outings this year. It is only October and we have gone on 4 field trips! Of course, I am an overachiever so what we do accomplish will still be about triple what they would get in public school.
We have also enrolled in a co-op. The kids love it and have made many new friends. Isaac's classes are speech, finances, chemistry, and computer programming. Tierney is taking P.E., Devotionals, Art Appreciation & Science (I teach of few of these.) Lena is in a pre-school class and is always excited to attend. Maebry is in a toddler class and brings home many craft projects too. I have really savored the chance to get to know other moms in the group and truly appreciate the parent enrichment portions that are provided when we aren't teaching. We get brunch and a speaker comes in to uplift us in God's Word and encourage us with practical advice for homeschooling issues. I feel that we all have grown in a positive way since we joined this group! And, having 4 kids seems to be the norm! In fact, the majority of families there have 4-5 children each. That is a considerable number since there are 56 families! Beware: Homeschoolers shall inherit the earth! (Or rejoice, as the case may be!)
Church: I saved the most exciting part for last! Renovation Church is why we moved to Ohio. Yes, it was God's command, but this inspiring church was the reason. Many people think of church as a building. We can take that out of the equation here, though. We do not own a building. We do not have a permanent place, really. Every Sunday the curtains, the stage, the instruments, the lights, the sound equipment all go up. Gymnastic equipment is removed to do so and is cleared from other rooms where the nursery and kids rooms are set up. We are not attached to a building. There is no building fund. We do not pay anyone to come in and set this up. Set up and tear down afterwards is done by our family. When I say "our family," I am not talking about the 6 members of the Gaskin clan (though 3-4 help the process) but of the family of brothers and sisters in Christ that make up Renovation Church. We are in this together. We serve together and do so joyfully. In fact, we make it look so fun that many visitors join in (though we never expect them to!) That is what you get with Renovation. You get a family. We hang out with each other, take care of each others needs, watch each others kids, and support one another (more so than many biologically connected families.) I have been lectured on putting my church family before my blood family before, but let me tell you, my church family is my blood family. We are connected by the blood of Christ and that bond is for all eternity. I love my biological family, don't get me wrong, but it is only an earthly tie. My bond with my church family (and my other fellow Christians throughout the world) is a much stronger link. We can never be separated. Not even by death! We are in this together forever and have the same purpose-- to bring God glory!
Renovation Church has been reaching out to the community in many ways. We have been serving the needs of those around us and are planning to serve global needs as well with a trip to Haiti in the spring. Every month brings several new ways to serve and connect with those who need love and Jesus in our lives. It has been a very encouraging year, seeing people saved! Learning and growing together with our small groups, mens groups, and ladies groups has only tightened the bond that our family has. In the current series, we are taking this relationship to a whole new level! Covenant Community delves into how we are "Bound to Christ, United to One Another." I encourage everyone to check out the podcasts !
As you can see, we have been busy but blessed. God has opened my eyes to reveal the opportunities to serve and love in this new area we now call home. Thanks for reading along as we undertake this journey! Stay tuned for more posts!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Master Mason
Please note: Some of you may have already read this since it was featured last week in reality developer, Lana Vaughan's blog
Building Walls
Building Walls
Many of my acquaintances do not know this, but I am a master mason. I excel at building walls. Brick by brick, stone by stone, I set myself up in a cozy tower of walls, built for one. But being alone surrounded by a staggering height of stones can become claustrophobic. It can be stifling. They are much harder to tear down than to build, yet I continually build them up just to destroy them later.
That is where I am at right now…in the demolition process. I hate tearing down walls. It is a messy and dusty business. Of course, it is my own fault for building them to begin with. That is my one major vice: wall construction. Some of you may understand how easy it is for a wall to go up. For others, I will try to explain.
The evolution of the wall begins where everyone starts-on a foundation. The foundation can be different per person or even per wall. Some are built on sinking sand and tumble sooner than others, or they may be stacked high on a rock solid surface. I am afraid most of mine settle on the rock, a loathsome material I have been carrying around all my life called self-reliance or even selfishness. Yes, there it is, I said it. I admitted it. I am a selfish person. I have this part of me (the hermit part) that enjoys solitude so I shut myself off to the world. I dodge calls, skip replying to emails, and hide from my neighbors. This isn’t just some much needed downtime. My break from society starts as a single snowflake of a missed email and turns into an avalanche of months of not wanting to be around people. It is disgusting, I know. It is a nasty habit that goes against what I stand for as a Christian. It is something I battle on a daily basis. Brick by brick.
The current wall I am tearing down reached a staggering height, acquiring stones and mortar over the span of eight months or more. It began with our abrupt move to Ohio. I frantically scrambled for bricks in a need to protect myself against this sudden change. I had to protect my heart which, as those closest to me know, can be very tender when exposed. I had to secure my need for the familiar which only seemed to be my own self at the time. So as each day passed, I laid another brick on the wall. Another excuse to not talk to my neighbor. Another reason to just say a platitude and move on to those at church or even in my family. Another moment of feeling resentment, being neglectful, and harboring fear. Another day when I slowly turned from seeking God’s word and truth to seek out my own. Foolish, I know.
A few weeks ago I was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of loss and loneliness. I was alone. My only company was the hard, cold stone surrounding my now withered heart. Having blocked out most of the light, what else could my heart do but shrivel up? I was killing myself under the weight of my own protection. I carried around a burdensome weight in my chest. Know the feeling? The despair of experiencing those walls closing in around you? The worst part was that I had put them there. It is a bad habit of mine and I should have recognized the signs immediately and took action to prevent it. But a part of me reasoned that I needed familiarity and comfort in that tumultuous change. So, like a fool, I allowed myself to be cornered.
The most tedious part of any construction job is demolition. The removal of the old, rotten parts is never something to be taken lightly. It involves too many upheavals….and emotions. Cutting away the dead flesh never feels good. So, as I endeavor to break out of the tower for one, I find myself growing weary. The only thing that is keeping me going, keeping me energized is the small light I see at the top of the wall. The light of the Spirit. The light of Christ. He is the only who can tear down these walls. I am willing and He has been ready. The process will be long and will take much effort on my part. My need for air, love, and the light of God will keep me motivated to demolish the brick and mortar from my life. I am praying that I will soon retire from being a master mason.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Thank you, ma'am!
Just recently I was at a gathering with friends and some people from out of town. As I was fixing my plate of food, my daughter Lena approached wanting something to drink. I handed her a cup of lemonade and she sweetly replied with, "Thank you, mommy!" One of the young ladies from the visiting group was standing nearby and immediately asked, "You don't make her say 'ma'am'?" I laughed lightly, "No, we tried for a bit but it didn't stick." She frowned and insisted, "You should do so until it does stick."
There were several things going through my mind at the moment but having met a young lady at age 17 or 18 who had such a "black or white" picture of the world already (a sad thing, really) and having that young lady who does not have children give advice on child rearing to a woman that is pregnant with her fifth child...well, I thought it best to keep my mouth shut. Besides, it wasn't my place to lecture but to be welcoming and open.
But now I wish I had said something. At the very least it was an opportunity for this girl to get a perspective different from her own. I know that culturally (as in her case) and sometimes generationally (I know my older siblings had to) that calling your parents by the titles of "sir" or "ma'am" is the appropriate thing to do. But to me, "ma'am" and "sir" are titles I use with people I don't know very well. I don't want to be a stranger to my children. I don't want to be lumped into the same group as the cashier at the grocery or the random lady at the park. I want my children to call me "mom," "mommy," or "mother." Believe me, the title of "mommy" has been hard earned.
I understand the need to be respectful to elders and my children address the neighbor as Mrs. Rachel. I have the rule for the neighborhood kids and the girls in my Girl Scout troop call me Mrs. Tiffany. But I don't want the children of my closest friends calling me that. It is an intimacy level issue. I want to be close enough to my good friends' children that they call me Tiffany or even Tiff. Of course there have been those awkward moments when someone I barely know calls me Tiff. I bristle a little at that since it is a nickname that I prefer only those who know me to use. I try to be gracious at times like that, however, since the strangers who call me Tiff have usually been introduced to me by some of my closest friends and family who have without thinking introduced me by my nickname. I am sure those strangers do not intend to offend but rather think that I prefer to be called by a shortened version of my name. So, I let it slide.
I wanted to tell that young lady, though, that being a parent (especially to small children) is about picking your battles. And having my four year old address me as "ma'am" was not a battle worth engaging. Breaking it down, the girl missed two very crucial points when my daughter said, "Thank you, mommy." 1) She used her manners which unfortunately that is not often the case with most four year olds. Though I must say that my children are very good at expressing their thanks to me and oftentimes after dinner I hear a chorus of "Thank you, mom" coming from my little ones.
2) The young lady missed the crucial point or rather sound of the sweetness in my daughter's voice when she said "mommy." That long "e" sound on the end was not just the drawn out sound of her Kentucky accent but a direct link to my child's love and affection. As many of you mothers out there know (and fathers, too), when your child addresses you in a certain tone it can be a window to their soul. What the young lady failed to grasp, and probably will not grasp until she has babies of her own, is that what I heard in my child's voice and what she heard were two very different things. When Lena said "mommy" in that sweet tone, it was her way of saying, "I love you, mom. Thanks for taking care of me." In one simple sound, she had conveyed to me her love, affection, and appreciation as adeptly as if she had given me a hug and a kiss.
So, sorry young-lady-who-thinks-she-knows-how-to-raise-my-kids-better-than-I, but I will take millons of "Thank you, mommy," over "Thank you, ma'am, " any day!
*** No Southerners were hurt, damaged, or otherwise harmed during the event that inspired the making of this blog post.
There were several things going through my mind at the moment but having met a young lady at age 17 or 18 who had such a "black or white" picture of the world already (a sad thing, really) and having that young lady who does not have children give advice on child rearing to a woman that is pregnant with her fifth child...well, I thought it best to keep my mouth shut. Besides, it wasn't my place to lecture but to be welcoming and open.
But now I wish I had said something. At the very least it was an opportunity for this girl to get a perspective different from her own. I know that culturally (as in her case) and sometimes generationally (I know my older siblings had to) that calling your parents by the titles of "sir" or "ma'am" is the appropriate thing to do. But to me, "ma'am" and "sir" are titles I use with people I don't know very well. I don't want to be a stranger to my children. I don't want to be lumped into the same group as the cashier at the grocery or the random lady at the park. I want my children to call me "mom," "mommy," or "mother." Believe me, the title of "mommy" has been hard earned.
I understand the need to be respectful to elders and my children address the neighbor as Mrs. Rachel. I have the rule for the neighborhood kids and the girls in my Girl Scout troop call me Mrs. Tiffany. But I don't want the children of my closest friends calling me that. It is an intimacy level issue. I want to be close enough to my good friends' children that they call me Tiffany or even Tiff. Of course there have been those awkward moments when someone I barely know calls me Tiff. I bristle a little at that since it is a nickname that I prefer only those who know me to use. I try to be gracious at times like that, however, since the strangers who call me Tiff have usually been introduced to me by some of my closest friends and family who have without thinking introduced me by my nickname. I am sure those strangers do not intend to offend but rather think that I prefer to be called by a shortened version of my name. So, I let it slide.
I wanted to tell that young lady, though, that being a parent (especially to small children) is about picking your battles. And having my four year old address me as "ma'am" was not a battle worth engaging. Breaking it down, the girl missed two very crucial points when my daughter said, "Thank you, mommy." 1) She used her manners which unfortunately that is not often the case with most four year olds. Though I must say that my children are very good at expressing their thanks to me and oftentimes after dinner I hear a chorus of "Thank you, mom" coming from my little ones.
2) The young lady missed the crucial point or rather sound of the sweetness in my daughter's voice when she said "mommy." That long "e" sound on the end was not just the drawn out sound of her Kentucky accent but a direct link to my child's love and affection. As many of you mothers out there know (and fathers, too), when your child addresses you in a certain tone it can be a window to their soul. What the young lady failed to grasp, and probably will not grasp until she has babies of her own, is that what I heard in my child's voice and what she heard were two very different things. When Lena said "mommy" in that sweet tone, it was her way of saying, "I love you, mom. Thanks for taking care of me." In one simple sound, she had conveyed to me her love, affection, and appreciation as adeptly as if she had given me a hug and a kiss.
So, sorry young-lady-who-thinks-she-knows-how-to-raise-my-kids-better-than-I, but I will take millons of "Thank you, mommy," over "Thank you, ma'am, " any day!
*** No Southerners were hurt, damaged, or otherwise harmed during the event that inspired the making of this blog post.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Shame on me
I have been sick lately (so please excuse my long absence from posting) and haven't been able to accomplish those things around the house that need to be done. I can be a perfectionist at times, so still having so many boxes to unpack is driving me up a wall. Plus, I have a couple of rooms to paint and finish decorating. A part of me just wants to finally be settled. My internal laments have been working overtime since I can be sick for a couple of days at a time, putting me behind on all my regular chores not to mention the finishing projects of moving into a new house.
Two days ago, I sat down to watch a documentary with my son. He is studying Weather at the moment so he has been watching many tornado, hurricane, and flood videos. On that particular day, we were watching Frontline, an episode that followed an old man who was returning home after Hurricane Katrina. Here is the link, in case you would like to watch: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/katrina/ The story was a sad one of course, because though I have seen some inspiring stories, I haven't seen any from Katrina that aren't sad. This one focused on 82 year old Herbert Gettridge, who had lived in New Orleans his entire life and had returned home after Hurricane Katrina to rebuild his home for his wife's return. I was simply amazed by the strength of this 82 year old man. He was rebuilding his home by himself! Without water. Without electricity. Without neighbors. Without government assistance. There were a few non-profit organizations and churches that came to help him from time to time, but for the most part, he was on his own. His determination was admirable. His persistence, doubly so.
His story touched my heart. His story was one that reverberated with me because it was one I had heard before...one from generations past. Grandparents who had built a house with their own two hands and would do anything to keep it. It wasn't just wood boards and bricks. It wasn't just a place to store their belongings. It was a home. A place full of family and memories and as much a part of them as their name and face. A story that I would love to be my own. A place that my heart secretly longs for and that I struggle to create for my own children. I could see myself in Herbert Gettridge and his struggles, and I could see those of my ancestors. My heart ached for his devastation, triumphed for over his achievements, and grieved for his loss when he brought his wife home to a place she could not recognize.
Afterwards, all I could think of was: "Shame on me!" Here I am in my house with walls, a roof, floors, running water, and electricity....and I am complaining over not getting a room painted. Or because I haven't enough bookcases for all of my books! I have too much stuff and not enough storage. Or I have storage but nothing stored in it! My worries seem very small in comparison to those who have lost their entire homes, their belongings, their families, and....their memories. In the last few months, a wave of natural disasters have occurred across this country in the form of tornadoes and floods. And across the world, with earthquakes and tsunamis. In my comfort, I cannot see their loss as I should. Shame on me!
Two days ago, I sat down to watch a documentary with my son. He is studying Weather at the moment so he has been watching many tornado, hurricane, and flood videos. On that particular day, we were watching Frontline, an episode that followed an old man who was returning home after Hurricane Katrina. Here is the link, in case you would like to watch: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/katrina/ The story was a sad one of course, because though I have seen some inspiring stories, I haven't seen any from Katrina that aren't sad. This one focused on 82 year old Herbert Gettridge, who had lived in New Orleans his entire life and had returned home after Hurricane Katrina to rebuild his home for his wife's return. I was simply amazed by the strength of this 82 year old man. He was rebuilding his home by himself! Without water. Without electricity. Without neighbors. Without government assistance. There were a few non-profit organizations and churches that came to help him from time to time, but for the most part, he was on his own. His determination was admirable. His persistence, doubly so.
His story touched my heart. His story was one that reverberated with me because it was one I had heard before...one from generations past. Grandparents who had built a house with their own two hands and would do anything to keep it. It wasn't just wood boards and bricks. It wasn't just a place to store their belongings. It was a home. A place full of family and memories and as much a part of them as their name and face. A story that I would love to be my own. A place that my heart secretly longs for and that I struggle to create for my own children. I could see myself in Herbert Gettridge and his struggles, and I could see those of my ancestors. My heart ached for his devastation, triumphed for over his achievements, and grieved for his loss when he brought his wife home to a place she could not recognize.
Afterwards, all I could think of was: "Shame on me!" Here I am in my house with walls, a roof, floors, running water, and electricity....and I am complaining over not getting a room painted. Or because I haven't enough bookcases for all of my books! I have too much stuff and not enough storage. Or I have storage but nothing stored in it! My worries seem very small in comparison to those who have lost their entire homes, their belongings, their families, and....their memories. In the last few months, a wave of natural disasters have occurred across this country in the form of tornadoes and floods. And across the world, with earthquakes and tsunamis. In my comfort, I cannot see their loss as I should. Shame on me!
Friday, April 15, 2011
First Shift
Last Thursday, I had some unexpected but very, very, welcome news. Brian sent me a text message saying that he was starting first shift on Monday. I was thrilled! It is exactly what I had been praying for (and the Girl Scout leaders, see previous post). He was moving from second shift to first shift and we would be able to spend our evenings together.
This news is pretty big to our household. At Brian's previous job (in KY), Brian had to work 7 years to make it to first shift. It only took 4 months here. It is something I have been praying over since he took the job. I hate second shift. It is the time of day when everything exciting happens. All of the kids extracurricular activities are during the second shift hours. The whole day is just thrown off, really. Before, it seemed like we had less time to spend together as a family since everything had to be rushed into the morning hours. Homeschooling was dragging a bit too since we didn't start our schoolwork until after Brian left for work. Kids are much better at concentrating when they work in the morning hours rather than the afternoon when the neighborhood kids are outside playing and wanting them to join in.
Another answered prayer, of course! First shift was pretty vital to our family's harmony. Several years ago, I worked second shift and Brian worked third shift. The result was a near divorce and tearing apart of the family! Many people survive on odd shifts, but I knew the only way we would was to lean on God. He carried us through this time.
Our schedule is returning to normal. And even though Brian had to drop his classes at college because the news of first shift came too late to add new ones, he will be able to coach football in the fall if a position should become available. I am sure it will. Football and Brian are like attracting magnets. Come fall, I fully plan on being in the stands of some high school football game, cheering on a new team!
This news is pretty big to our household. At Brian's previous job (in KY), Brian had to work 7 years to make it to first shift. It only took 4 months here. It is something I have been praying over since he took the job. I hate second shift. It is the time of day when everything exciting happens. All of the kids extracurricular activities are during the second shift hours. The whole day is just thrown off, really. Before, it seemed like we had less time to spend together as a family since everything had to be rushed into the morning hours. Homeschooling was dragging a bit too since we didn't start our schoolwork until after Brian left for work. Kids are much better at concentrating when they work in the morning hours rather than the afternoon when the neighborhood kids are outside playing and wanting them to join in.
Another answered prayer, of course! First shift was pretty vital to our family's harmony. Several years ago, I worked second shift and Brian worked third shift. The result was a near divorce and tearing apart of the family! Many people survive on odd shifts, but I knew the only way we would was to lean on God. He carried us through this time.
Our schedule is returning to normal. And even though Brian had to drop his classes at college because the news of first shift came too late to add new ones, he will be able to coach football in the fall if a position should become available. I am sure it will. Football and Brian are like attracting magnets. Come fall, I fully plan on being in the stands of some high school football game, cheering on a new team!
Friday, April 8, 2011
The Rug
I love a bargain. And I can usually find them in some unusual places. Since moving to Oakwood, the hip way to acquire a deal is to go estate shopping. I have been going to them for the past month or so. Not all of them are created equal, however, and most of them are full of old lady clothing (we're talking polyester, not vintage) and overpriced antiques. But, if you know what you are looking for, you can find a diamond in the rough.
A local antique dealer, who is rumored to be overpriced, was conducting an estate sale two streets away. I was hesitant to go, thinking to myself that I won't be able to find anything that I would actually want to put my money on. When I entered the house, there were several beautiful lamps, vases, and dishware that I eagerly examined. The prices weren't horrible, but they were still more than I wanted to pay. Part of the love affair I have with my purchases is the price. The better the deal, the more I love them. Sad but true. So, I continued looking around, and overheard a conversation that two antique brokers were having. One man was displeased because he had not been called for the "wholesale" day at that particular sale. The other man sympathized and went on to talk about the same thing happening to him at a different place. Hmm, so all of this stuff, stuff that the bright & cheerful appraiser was promoting, had already been picked over by antique store dealers and interior decorators? Not an encouraging thought. Considering that, I frowned on the prices even more.
Upstairs, a lady negotiated over several mediocre paintings. Another woman was in awe of matching duvet covers. I, however, was giving up on the sale. Or so I thought. I tripped over a very long package wrapped in plastic. I glanced down- a rug. A very inconvenient place to put one, I thought to myself and turned to leave. Back downstairs I glanced about the place one more time. No, nothing was calling my name. I stepped outside. It was snowing again. As I stood there putting on my gloves, something made me step back inside. I can't say that it was a voice whispering to me or that it was even a feeling. It was just...odd. I went back inside, not sure what I was looking for or why I had returned.
It felt good to be back inside where it was warm. The appraiser didn't even bat an eye at my sudden reappearance. Not sure of what I was doing, I once more surveyed the items for sale. Nothing. Why was I still here? I went upstairs for a last glance, though the items upstairs were more dismal than the ones downstairs. My eyes fell on that long roll of plastic. The rug. I leaned closer, peering through the plastic. No way! I thought. This rug matched the one I had in my family room. It was much bigger too. The largest size you can buy in that particular design, in fact. I glanced at the price tag: $65. We paid twice that for the rug we currently had! This rug was new, had never been opened and was a room sized area rug for $65...and it matched what we already had! Wow! This was definitely a bargain! I tried to hide my excitement since an older lady could see that I was very interested in the rug and had come over to investigate the piece herself. I immediately called my husband and asked him if the rug would fit in our living room. He said it would, so I flagged down the nearby sales attendant and told her that I wanted it!
As I was checking out, the sales lady informed me that the rug wasn't original to the current estate sale and that it had been brought just that morning over from a sale that they had the previous week. She helped me to carry it out to the truck and I told her that it matched a rug that we already owned. She seemed surprised. Then she smiled, "Looks like this rug was meant just for you!" I couldn't have agreed more.
I know some would dismiss this as a lucky coincidence or even scoff over the idea that God would provide me with this rug when I went searching for a bargain. But what they fail to realize, is that I had been praying for a way to make my house a home with what little resources we had. Because of the expenses of our move, I did not have much extra money to use in furnishing our new place. Many of our old pieces didn't fit, were broken in the move, or we just didn't have what we needed to furnish all of our rooms. To many, it would seem trivial to pray for those things. I did not ask God to give me a good deal on a rug. I did not ask God for more money to buy home decorations. I simply said a prayer for Him to help me make my house a home...some way. A rug does not make a home, that is for sure, but it was a start. I do not hesitate to give Him the glory for my finding that rug. Or rather, that rug finding me. Even though it may be a little one, it was another answered prayer.
P.S. I looked up how much it would cost to purchase the same rug at retail: $325.
A local antique dealer, who is rumored to be overpriced, was conducting an estate sale two streets away. I was hesitant to go, thinking to myself that I won't be able to find anything that I would actually want to put my money on. When I entered the house, there were several beautiful lamps, vases, and dishware that I eagerly examined. The prices weren't horrible, but they were still more than I wanted to pay. Part of the love affair I have with my purchases is the price. The better the deal, the more I love them. Sad but true. So, I continued looking around, and overheard a conversation that two antique brokers were having. One man was displeased because he had not been called for the "wholesale" day at that particular sale. The other man sympathized and went on to talk about the same thing happening to him at a different place. Hmm, so all of this stuff, stuff that the bright & cheerful appraiser was promoting, had already been picked over by antique store dealers and interior decorators? Not an encouraging thought. Considering that, I frowned on the prices even more.
Upstairs, a lady negotiated over several mediocre paintings. Another woman was in awe of matching duvet covers. I, however, was giving up on the sale. Or so I thought. I tripped over a very long package wrapped in plastic. I glanced down- a rug. A very inconvenient place to put one, I thought to myself and turned to leave. Back downstairs I glanced about the place one more time. No, nothing was calling my name. I stepped outside. It was snowing again. As I stood there putting on my gloves, something made me step back inside. I can't say that it was a voice whispering to me or that it was even a feeling. It was just...odd. I went back inside, not sure what I was looking for or why I had returned.
It felt good to be back inside where it was warm. The appraiser didn't even bat an eye at my sudden reappearance. Not sure of what I was doing, I once more surveyed the items for sale. Nothing. Why was I still here? I went upstairs for a last glance, though the items upstairs were more dismal than the ones downstairs. My eyes fell on that long roll of plastic. The rug. I leaned closer, peering through the plastic. No way! I thought. This rug matched the one I had in my family room. It was much bigger too. The largest size you can buy in that particular design, in fact. I glanced at the price tag: $65. We paid twice that for the rug we currently had! This rug was new, had never been opened and was a room sized area rug for $65...and it matched what we already had! Wow! This was definitely a bargain! I tried to hide my excitement since an older lady could see that I was very interested in the rug and had come over to investigate the piece herself. I immediately called my husband and asked him if the rug would fit in our living room. He said it would, so I flagged down the nearby sales attendant and told her that I wanted it!
As I was checking out, the sales lady informed me that the rug wasn't original to the current estate sale and that it had been brought just that morning over from a sale that they had the previous week. She helped me to carry it out to the truck and I told her that it matched a rug that we already owned. She seemed surprised. Then she smiled, "Looks like this rug was meant just for you!" I couldn't have agreed more.
I know some would dismiss this as a lucky coincidence or even scoff over the idea that God would provide me with this rug when I went searching for a bargain. But what they fail to realize, is that I had been praying for a way to make my house a home with what little resources we had. Because of the expenses of our move, I did not have much extra money to use in furnishing our new place. Many of our old pieces didn't fit, were broken in the move, or we just didn't have what we needed to furnish all of our rooms. To many, it would seem trivial to pray for those things. I did not ask God to give me a good deal on a rug. I did not ask God for more money to buy home decorations. I simply said a prayer for Him to help me make my house a home...some way. A rug does not make a home, that is for sure, but it was a start. I do not hesitate to give Him the glory for my finding that rug. Or rather, that rug finding me. Even though it may be a little one, it was another answered prayer.
P.S. I looked up how much it would cost to purchase the same rug at retail: $325.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Girl Scouts (in Ohio)
One of the first things I did when moving to Ohio was to find a new Girl Scout troop for my oldest daughter. Our troop in Kentucky was very active and since I was the leader, I think that it was well-organized....not perfect, but pretty good. I started the troop when my daughter was a Daisy and kept it going into Brownies up until this past month when we had our last "she-bang." During that time period, our troop worked on over 30 Try-Its and attended twice as many events. My daughter's sash has overlapping badges and patches (much like mine when I was a Brownie.) Girl Scouts has been a big part of our lives in this family and something that we enjoy.
So, the troop here in Ohio, come to find out, is a new troop. They just started up this year, and only one other girl in the troop had any previous Girl Scout experience (and that was only 1 year.) The leaders do not pre-plan meetings. In fact, if they do not have anything planned they just talk to the girls or let them run around and play. The leader, who is very nice, could not answer any of the questions I had about the future bridging up to Juniors. In fact, she had never heard of "bridging." This scared me.
The disorganization and lack of communication of this troop totally baffles me. I understand that the parents who are the leader and co-leader had not planned on being in those positions and rather found themselves thrust into. But where is the training for them? I find it hard to believe that they are not better prepared! I rounded up some of the left-over supplies I had and offered them to the group. I offered to make them a troop songbook (still haven't heard back on that one) but the leader did applaud my idea of actually singing songs! Really! They had not sang any songs- not even the Brownie Smile song! Gasp!
After one meeting, my daughter told me that they did the Girl Scout sign like the Boy Scouts, using only two fingers. ??????Huh????? Everything in me is freaking out. I am sad to say that because my husband works 2nd shift, there is little I can do to help. Though, let me assure you, that I have tried to offer what assistance I can and most of it has gone unused. I did send a craft to do this past week for the troop meeting (they only meet every 2 weeks) and my daughter said that the girls loved it! They had never done a craft!!!
Needless to say, the current leader and co-leader have already asked me (begged me, really) to be the leader next year. I told them that depends on my husband getting on a different shift. They said that they would be praying for it.
So, the troop here in Ohio, come to find out, is a new troop. They just started up this year, and only one other girl in the troop had any previous Girl Scout experience (and that was only 1 year.) The leaders do not pre-plan meetings. In fact, if they do not have anything planned they just talk to the girls or let them run around and play. The leader, who is very nice, could not answer any of the questions I had about the future bridging up to Juniors. In fact, she had never heard of "bridging." This scared me.
The disorganization and lack of communication of this troop totally baffles me. I understand that the parents who are the leader and co-leader had not planned on being in those positions and rather found themselves thrust into. But where is the training for them? I find it hard to believe that they are not better prepared! I rounded up some of the left-over supplies I had and offered them to the group. I offered to make them a troop songbook (still haven't heard back on that one) but the leader did applaud my idea of actually singing songs! Really! They had not sang any songs- not even the Brownie Smile song! Gasp!
After one meeting, my daughter told me that they did the Girl Scout sign like the Boy Scouts, using only two fingers. ??????Huh????? Everything in me is freaking out. I am sad to say that because my husband works 2nd shift, there is little I can do to help. Though, let me assure you, that I have tried to offer what assistance I can and most of it has gone unused. I did send a craft to do this past week for the troop meeting (they only meet every 2 weeks) and my daughter said that the girls loved it! They had never done a craft!!!
Needless to say, the current leader and co-leader have already asked me (begged me, really) to be the leader next year. I told them that depends on my husband getting on a different shift. They said that they would be praying for it.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Old vs. New
A comparison of what we had at our old life in Kentucky and what we have now:
Kentucky Oakwood
* 5 acres * enough space for a swing set
*dial-up internet * high-speed internet with WiFi
*satellite T.V. * Instant Netflix
*2100 sq. ft house *1900 sq ft.
* 25 foot rock fireplace in vaulted ceiling * 9 ft ceilings, gas fireplace
*surrounded by woods * surrounded by houses
*20 minute drive to EVERYTHING! *walk just about everywhere
* couldn't see our neighbors house * all we can see is our neighbor
*shed/barn * garage
* school buses * everyone walks/ ride school SUV
*taxes $1250/year *taxes $3500/year
*3 story playset * mega playground: block away
*gravel/dirt drive *paved driveway
*creek *Community pool
*septic *public sewer
*metal roof *shingle roof
*very quiet *cars, sirens, and kids
*no sidewalks (rural route) *sidewalks and lots of walking
* okay school system *school ranked 577th in nation
*hunting *mega squirrels that taunt you
*Great radio stations * Ipod use suggested!
*Wal-Mart or Kroger *Kroger, Trader Joe's, Meijer
*great temperatures/seasons *winter or construction
*room to store recreational vehicles *boat & trailer still in KY
*close to family *has adopted a second family
*McDonalds *decisions, decisions!
*clean air *smokers galore (odd, huh?)
*wrap around deck *full front porch
*everyone knows everyone * all outsiders
* gun range in backyard * "Run! They have a gun!"
*University of Kentucky (Go Cats!) *Ohio State
(yes, I left off "THE"...deal with it!)
Kentucky Oakwood
* 5 acres * enough space for a swing set
*dial-up internet * high-speed internet with WiFi
*satellite T.V. * Instant Netflix
*2100 sq. ft house *1900 sq ft.
* 25 foot rock fireplace in vaulted ceiling * 9 ft ceilings, gas fireplace
*surrounded by woods * surrounded by houses
*20 minute drive to EVERYTHING! *walk just about everywhere
* couldn't see our neighbors house * all we can see is our neighbor
*shed/barn * garage
* school buses * everyone walks/ ride school SUV
*taxes $1250/year *taxes $3500/year
*3 story playset * mega playground: block away
*gravel/dirt drive *paved driveway
*creek *Community pool
*septic *public sewer
*metal roof *shingle roof
*very quiet *cars, sirens, and kids
*no sidewalks (rural route) *sidewalks and lots of walking
* okay school system *school ranked 577th in nation
*hunting *mega squirrels that taunt you
*Great radio stations * Ipod use suggested!
*Wal-Mart or Kroger *Kroger, Trader Joe's, Meijer
*great temperatures/seasons *winter or construction
*room to store recreational vehicles *boat & trailer still in KY
*close to family *has adopted a second family
*McDonalds *decisions, decisions!
*clean air *smokers galore (odd, huh?)
*wrap around deck *full front porch
*everyone knows everyone * all outsiders
* gun range in backyard * "Run! They have a gun!"
*University of Kentucky (Go Cats!) *Ohio State
(yes, I left off "THE"...deal with it!)
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Accomplishment
I used to think that packing everything up to move was the biggest pain about relocating. I have since changed my mind. Unpacking is the biggest pain! We have lived in our new house for over 2 months now. We are still living out of boxes. My frustration levels are reaching an all time high. I do not like chaos. I do not like having things out of place or no place at all! And that, my dear friends, is the crux of the problem!
Moving into a new home requires taking all your old stuff that fit perfectly in your old house and finding a location for it in your new house. Sounds easy enough, but unless you just walk into your house and plop it down, claiming: "Here is your new abode, dear lamp!" it doesn't really work. Especially when the lamp is sitting on the dining room floor beneath a chalkboard easel, like mine. (Though I think this technique would work for my husband.) No, you have to check your surroundings. What area of the room really needs a lamp? What part needs more lighting? Is there a plug available in that corner for the lamp? Is there something to sit it on? Oh, the questions are endless.
Okay, yes, I am being overly dramatic, but I am having some "vicious cycle" moments here. I painted my son's bedroom without any furniture in it. It was fast and easy. I puffed my chest with accomplishment when gazing upon the white and University of Kentucky blue that donned the walls. I put up the peel-n-stick Wildcat decals and rejoiced to see progress in our journey of settling in. But that was pretty much where our progress stopped. A few weeks passed before I could no longer take stepping around the sea of boxes. In a feverish rush, I broke out the paint that I was contemplating using in the kitchen. It was a full gallon of blue left over from our kitchen at the old house. I put it on one wall....and fell in love all over again. I was pumped! I finished the kitchen in another day or so. Then, I unpacked my blue and white kitchen decorations. My heart sighed in contentment at seeing the place settled. The only thing left for the kitchen is the curtains I am sewing.
But the rest of the house is a mess. I finally moved the boxes out of the living room and stacked them up along a dining room wall. I rolled out the area rug in the living room (an area rug that I bought new for $65 though it was regular priced $325) and smiled with accomplishment. Really? Accomplishment from rolling out a rug? Yes, that is what my wonderful, anal sense of structure and organization has been reduced to. I also put together the two new end tables I bought. Those and a few chairs is all that sits in my living room since I am waiting to make a trip to IKEA to buy a couch. I also need a piece of artwork for over the fireplace. And I cannot decide where to hang the stuff I currently have.
I am mid-process of painting my oldest daughter's bedroom. And my youngest two daughters are still living among cardboard boxes like homeless children. Our bedroom is not much better since all the questionable items (where should we put this?) have been quarantined in one corner there. Just like the dining room. And the garage. And a room in the basement. In fact, most of the stuff we had at the old house doesn't really fit in well here. I guess I will sell most of it at a yard sale this spring and take the money earned to buy new stuff.
But then I have to wait for better weather....see? Vicious cycle. I have to wait to unpack until I paint. I have to wait to hang this until I paint or figure out where it goes. For those of you who know me well, you know that I can create some beautiful rooms. This house, though, has been seriously trying my decorators spirit. I will prevail, though. I just need to shut up all the chaos of clutter and get busy! Today, I opened my new bedding set and put it on my bed. Yep, another accomplishment!
Moving into a new home requires taking all your old stuff that fit perfectly in your old house and finding a location for it in your new house. Sounds easy enough, but unless you just walk into your house and plop it down, claiming: "Here is your new abode, dear lamp!" it doesn't really work. Especially when the lamp is sitting on the dining room floor beneath a chalkboard easel, like mine. (Though I think this technique would work for my husband.) No, you have to check your surroundings. What area of the room really needs a lamp? What part needs more lighting? Is there a plug available in that corner for the lamp? Is there something to sit it on? Oh, the questions are endless.
Okay, yes, I am being overly dramatic, but I am having some "vicious cycle" moments here. I painted my son's bedroom without any furniture in it. It was fast and easy. I puffed my chest with accomplishment when gazing upon the white and University of Kentucky blue that donned the walls. I put up the peel-n-stick Wildcat decals and rejoiced to see progress in our journey of settling in. But that was pretty much where our progress stopped. A few weeks passed before I could no longer take stepping around the sea of boxes. In a feverish rush, I broke out the paint that I was contemplating using in the kitchen. It was a full gallon of blue left over from our kitchen at the old house. I put it on one wall....and fell in love all over again. I was pumped! I finished the kitchen in another day or so. Then, I unpacked my blue and white kitchen decorations. My heart sighed in contentment at seeing the place settled. The only thing left for the kitchen is the curtains I am sewing.
But the rest of the house is a mess. I finally moved the boxes out of the living room and stacked them up along a dining room wall. I rolled out the area rug in the living room (an area rug that I bought new for $65 though it was regular priced $325) and smiled with accomplishment. Really? Accomplishment from rolling out a rug? Yes, that is what my wonderful, anal sense of structure and organization has been reduced to. I also put together the two new end tables I bought. Those and a few chairs is all that sits in my living room since I am waiting to make a trip to IKEA to buy a couch. I also need a piece of artwork for over the fireplace. And I cannot decide where to hang the stuff I currently have.
I am mid-process of painting my oldest daughter's bedroom. And my youngest two daughters are still living among cardboard boxes like homeless children. Our bedroom is not much better since all the questionable items (where should we put this?) have been quarantined in one corner there. Just like the dining room. And the garage. And a room in the basement. In fact, most of the stuff we had at the old house doesn't really fit in well here. I guess I will sell most of it at a yard sale this spring and take the money earned to buy new stuff.
But then I have to wait for better weather....see? Vicious cycle. I have to wait to unpack until I paint. I have to wait to hang this until I paint or figure out where it goes. For those of you who know me well, you know that I can create some beautiful rooms. This house, though, has been seriously trying my decorators spirit. I will prevail, though. I just need to shut up all the chaos of clutter and get busy! Today, I opened my new bedding set and put it on my bed. Yep, another accomplishment!
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Police (and I'm not talking about the band)
The entire 5 years I lived in our house in the boonies, I never once had the police come to my house. A few helicopter fly-overs checking acreage for illegal substances, yes, but no actual physical contact on my property. I liked it that way. I savor my privacy. I also like to know they are there if I need them, but I do not need them in my face as a reminder.
Having said that, I would like to note that tomorrow will be exactly 2 months to the day that we moved into our house in Oakwood. And we have had contact with the police 4 times already. I seriously hope that this is not a pattern that will continue throughout the year. I think there are more cops in Oakwood than all of Nelson County back in KY. Every time I go out, whether driving or walking, I see a patrol car. Many times, there is one parked down the street near the park. A part of me likes the fact that the neighborhood is well patrolled. Oakwood is supposed to be the safest area to live in Dayton. In fact, most of the transgressions posted in The Oakwood Register deal with driving incidents. There is an occasional burglary report or a stolen bicycle reported, but mainly they are all speeding tickets or the like. (If you come to visit us, please observe the posted speed limits.)
Rabbit Trail: One of the burglary reports was of $200, a laptop, and an iphone taken from an UNLOCKED Expedition. All the items were laying on the seat in plain view. C'mon, people! Use some common sense!
Another part of me, however, dislikes the fact that the police traffic the area like the Gestapo. The first day we moved in a police officer stopped and was checking out our truck which was parked on the street in front of our house. I say the officer and immediately thought, "What's wrong?" There were other cars parked on the street, so I knew that was legal. But our truck was parked in front of our house against the flow of traffic. I told Brian to run out and talk the officer so we wouldn't get a ticket. He ran outside and moved the truck. The officer was not very welcoming. He told Brian, "That isn't allowed around here." Okay, fine. Lesson learned. (But what was the big deal anyway? Were they afraid someone driving down the street would suddenly forget which way the traffic flowed and follow the parked cars? If so, they shouldn't be driving anyway. Simple driver's ed...drive on the right side of the road.)
The three other incidents with the police all involved the situation with the little girl (previous post). I am so hoping that is an isolated occurrence and not a trend in my life as an Oakwood resident. So, while I am glad to have the protection, I am also a little ruffled by the lack of privacy too. I suppose that is just what goes with the territory. I moved from the boonies to an urban neighborhood. Just another little adjustment to be made.
Having said that, I would like to note that tomorrow will be exactly 2 months to the day that we moved into our house in Oakwood. And we have had contact with the police 4 times already. I seriously hope that this is not a pattern that will continue throughout the year. I think there are more cops in Oakwood than all of Nelson County back in KY. Every time I go out, whether driving or walking, I see a patrol car. Many times, there is one parked down the street near the park. A part of me likes the fact that the neighborhood is well patrolled. Oakwood is supposed to be the safest area to live in Dayton. In fact, most of the transgressions posted in The Oakwood Register deal with driving incidents. There is an occasional burglary report or a stolen bicycle reported, but mainly they are all speeding tickets or the like. (If you come to visit us, please observe the posted speed limits.)
Rabbit Trail: One of the burglary reports was of $200, a laptop, and an iphone taken from an UNLOCKED Expedition. All the items were laying on the seat in plain view. C'mon, people! Use some common sense!
Another part of me, however, dislikes the fact that the police traffic the area like the Gestapo. The first day we moved in a police officer stopped and was checking out our truck which was parked on the street in front of our house. I say the officer and immediately thought, "What's wrong?" There were other cars parked on the street, so I knew that was legal. But our truck was parked in front of our house against the flow of traffic. I told Brian to run out and talk the officer so we wouldn't get a ticket. He ran outside and moved the truck. The officer was not very welcoming. He told Brian, "That isn't allowed around here." Okay, fine. Lesson learned. (But what was the big deal anyway? Were they afraid someone driving down the street would suddenly forget which way the traffic flowed and follow the parked cars? If so, they shouldn't be driving anyway. Simple driver's ed...drive on the right side of the road.)
The three other incidents with the police all involved the situation with the little girl (previous post). I am so hoping that is an isolated occurrence and not a trend in my life as an Oakwood resident. So, while I am glad to have the protection, I am also a little ruffled by the lack of privacy too. I suppose that is just what goes with the territory. I moved from the boonies to an urban neighborhood. Just another little adjustment to be made.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Robbing the Bank
The closing on our house in Kentucky went super easy, right? Yes. When we put the money into the bank, they told us that it would be released in time for our closing. Yes, that sounded about right considering we had a certified check. They said that there would be a 7 day hold. We put the check in on the 3rd and we closed on the next house on the 14th. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the hold should be off when we needed it.
So, why did the teller at the bank refuse to give me the money (in form of a certified check, of course) when I went to get it the day before our closing? Good question. Apparently, those hold days do not include weekends or holidays. So, according to their calculations, we could not withdraw our money until the Monday after our scheduled closing in Ohio.
I went into Panic Mode. I explained my situation fervently. The teller took pity on me and called the manager out to see what could be done. I did not want to lose the house! Or our interest rate that was locked in only until the day of our closing! The manager reviewed the hold on our check. She agreed that it couldn't be released until after our closing. But...she would talk to the regional manager and see if they could trace the check to make sure it had cleared. She said that she would call me when she knew something.
As soon as I left the bank, I was in prayer. While I was driving, I was in prayer. While I was at my parents house, I was in prayer. While I texted my husband and friends, I was in prayer. Help! Help! Help! We had to have that money! How could we get all this way and then stumble on something so silly? We had the money. It was in the bank. We couldn't touch it though because of a stupid "red-tape" hold???? There was NOTHING I could do about the situation. It was totally and utterly out of my control. And aren't most things? Even things that us mortals like to think we control, isn't it all out of our control? Humans tend to set up this guise of taking care of things, of protecting ourselves, armoring ourselves, etc. But it doesn't matter if you have Superman on your side because you aren't in control! Our choices affect the outcome, most definitely. I should have checked with the bank and scheduled the closing dates differently. But I had a certified check. I didn't see a reason for the hold. And someone I know that works at a bank said that their company only puts a 3 day hold on certified checks. Yes, I should have made a better choice, but the situation I found myself in was out of my control. The funds could have been lost (happened to my friend once when the bank accidentally deposited it into the wrong account) or my identity could have been stolen and my account wiped out. Looking on the bright side, I guess the whole "hold" thing wasn't so bad. Much better than the other frustrating ways to not be able to get ahold of my very OWN money. Hmm, I do own guns. Is it against the law to rob the bank for just your OWN money? Eh, probably. I had better make a wiser choice and not try to handle this on my own. I needed help. Big time!
I was asking for help. Again. I could not do this on my own. I needed help. "Help!" I called to God.
I also called the bank back. God answered in the voice of the bank manager, "It has been taken care of. We have lifted the hold on your check, Mrs. Gaskin. When you come in, we will have the certified check for you." And once more, I was in prayer. A prayer full of thanks, ever so humbled by His love for me. The bank did not have to remove that hold. They had every right legally to not give a damn and hold my money until the next week. Matthew 21:22 reads, "If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.” I am sure most non-believers and especially believers would say that this didn't apply to modern times. How many believers had done so and had not been given what they asked for? Well, I won't dive into that can...all I can say is, "It is true! I can bear witness!" Hallelujah! Amen!
And I skipped all the way to the bank (and left my handgun at home.)
So, why did the teller at the bank refuse to give me the money (in form of a certified check, of course) when I went to get it the day before our closing? Good question. Apparently, those hold days do not include weekends or holidays. So, according to their calculations, we could not withdraw our money until the Monday after our scheduled closing in Ohio.
I went into Panic Mode. I explained my situation fervently. The teller took pity on me and called the manager out to see what could be done. I did not want to lose the house! Or our interest rate that was locked in only until the day of our closing! The manager reviewed the hold on our check. She agreed that it couldn't be released until after our closing. But...she would talk to the regional manager and see if they could trace the check to make sure it had cleared. She said that she would call me when she knew something.
As soon as I left the bank, I was in prayer. While I was driving, I was in prayer. While I was at my parents house, I was in prayer. While I texted my husband and friends, I was in prayer. Help! Help! Help! We had to have that money! How could we get all this way and then stumble on something so silly? We had the money. It was in the bank. We couldn't touch it though because of a stupid "red-tape" hold???? There was NOTHING I could do about the situation. It was totally and utterly out of my control. And aren't most things? Even things that us mortals like to think we control, isn't it all out of our control? Humans tend to set up this guise of taking care of things, of protecting ourselves, armoring ourselves, etc. But it doesn't matter if you have Superman on your side because you aren't in control! Our choices affect the outcome, most definitely. I should have checked with the bank and scheduled the closing dates differently. But I had a certified check. I didn't see a reason for the hold. And someone I know that works at a bank said that their company only puts a 3 day hold on certified checks. Yes, I should have made a better choice, but the situation I found myself in was out of my control. The funds could have been lost (happened to my friend once when the bank accidentally deposited it into the wrong account) or my identity could have been stolen and my account wiped out. Looking on the bright side, I guess the whole "hold" thing wasn't so bad. Much better than the other frustrating ways to not be able to get ahold of my very OWN money. Hmm, I do own guns. Is it against the law to rob the bank for just your OWN money? Eh, probably. I had better make a wiser choice and not try to handle this on my own. I needed help. Big time!
I was asking for help. Again. I could not do this on my own. I needed help. "Help!" I called to God.
I also called the bank back. God answered in the voice of the bank manager, "It has been taken care of. We have lifted the hold on your check, Mrs. Gaskin. When you come in, we will have the certified check for you." And once more, I was in prayer. A prayer full of thanks, ever so humbled by His love for me. The bank did not have to remove that hold. They had every right legally to not give a damn and hold my money until the next week. Matthew 21:22 reads, "If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.” I am sure most non-believers and especially believers would say that this didn't apply to modern times. How many believers had done so and had not been given what they asked for? Well, I won't dive into that can...all I can say is, "It is true! I can bear witness!" Hallelujah! Amen!
And I skipped all the way to the bank (and left my handgun at home.)
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Catching Up
Okay, I know I haven't posted in almost 2 weeks, but to be honest I thought it would be difficult to top the last post. I reminded myself that this blog is about my life here in Oakwood, so if there are boring days then there will be boring posts. But sometimes the things that I find boring or mundane may be exciting to others and vice versa....so, you can be the judge.
I haven't finished the telling of our story that lead us to Oakwood. After everything went into the works (closing on our house/loan approval & closing on the new house), our budget became drastically tight. We were pretty much living off of savings since the transition from Brian's old job to his new job did not mean an immediate paycheck. The extra expenses of buying a home, i.e. home inspections, "good faith" deposit, appraisals, etc. also cut into that money. There was one week when we didn't have enough money for groceries. Really. But, I did some heavy praying. Like...face on the floor praying. Afterwards, I had no immediate answer, but I was calm and knew God would provide. How, I didn't know, but I knew He would. And He did, by revealing a creative way to work our finances....I had an epiphany! Once again, I asked for help and He answered.
Closing on our house in Kentucky went very smoothly. It only took ten minutes. We signed about two papers and then chatted with the couple who purchased our house and land. They paid cash, so we didn't have to sign a billion papers. And we skipped all the way home.
I haven't finished the telling of our story that lead us to Oakwood. After everything went into the works (closing on our house/loan approval & closing on the new house), our budget became drastically tight. We were pretty much living off of savings since the transition from Brian's old job to his new job did not mean an immediate paycheck. The extra expenses of buying a home, i.e. home inspections, "good faith" deposit, appraisals, etc. also cut into that money. There was one week when we didn't have enough money for groceries. Really. But, I did some heavy praying. Like...face on the floor praying. Afterwards, I had no immediate answer, but I was calm and knew God would provide. How, I didn't know, but I knew He would. And He did, by revealing a creative way to work our finances....I had an epiphany! Once again, I asked for help and He answered.
Closing on our house in Kentucky went very smoothly. It only took ten minutes. We signed about two papers and then chatted with the couple who purchased our house and land. They paid cash, so we didn't have to sign a billion papers. And we skipped all the way home.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Being in a Criminal report is no fun! (Continued)
The police and First Responders couldn't enter the house because of the dog. They needed me inside. I told Brian that I would be fine and there really wasn't anything that he could do anyway. He went back to our house.
I returned inside and held the dog's leash tight while corraling him and the little girl into the back room where the small black and white t.v. set flickered. I closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. I sat down on a small couch and the little girl sat down on the chair next to me. The room was dark except for the glow of the t.v. set. I could hear the police enter the house from the side door. They were discussing the best way to bring the stretcher inside. They directed the paramedics to enter through the front door. The noise of their work disturbed me some. I didn't think the little girl should overhear what was being said and the things that were happening. Keeping one ear turned toward the activity, I focused on distracting the child, who kept glancing at the door.
I asked her what her name was, slightly appalled at myself that I hadn't found that out yet. She told me that her name was Kayley. I told her that was a very pretty name. I introduced myself as well, and then asked what her dog's name was. "Reggie," she said, "Mommy named him and he loves mommy very much."
I told her that I could tell since he was being a very good guard dog. Reggie was sitting at my feet while I stroked his back. Every few moments he would hear a noise he didn't like, mainly male voices, and he would leap to his feet again. My soft murmurs were enough to calm him down.
I asked Kayley how old she was. "Five." She said proudly. She told me that she had an older brother but he was staying with their grandma. That information didn't seem to line up with what I knew already, but I didn't press the issue. I asked her how she found her mommy in the kitchen. "I was sleeping on the couch but then I woke up and went looking for my mommy." "And she was on the floor?" I asked, wanting to have a clear picture in my head. She nodded. I kept talking to her, trying to keep her distracted. Every question I asked or story I told her about my own children seemed to return somehow to the her own mother. Kayley was overly attached for a five year old. In the back of my mind, I wondered how many times she had been in this situation.
The lack of commotion in the other room caught my attention. I heard a guy say something about a little girl being here. I called out then, saying that she was in the back room with the guard dog. The police officer came near the door and asked if anyone had contacted a relative to come get the child. I told him that the grandmother was on the way. He wanted to know the contact phone number for the grandmother so I handed him my cell phone through the crack in the door. He said the number was nearby and the grandma should be arriving soon. He asked me to make sure the house was locked up before I left. And then everyone was gone.
At 2am, my mind flittered to the fact that I was sitting in a strange house in the middle of the night, with a child I did not know, holding a leash to a dog that wasn't exactly friendly. I wanted to be used. No one else had come to see why a little girl was screaming in the street. No one else even opened the door or fluttered a curtain. I was there. I was placed there....right there. At the house across the street from the little girl who stood screaming for help...for me...in the middle of the night. He was using me mightily. Little 'ole me comforted that child who had seen too much for such innocent eyes. That I had no doubt of.
I slowly opened the door and peeked around to make sure there wasn't any lingering officers for Reggie to attack. The coast was clear. I let go of the leash so Reggie could do his thing and secure the area. My hand was sore from gripping the leather so tightly. I walked to the kitchen. I am not sure exactly why, but a voice in the back of my head wanted to see if the things I had seen earlier were still there. Or had I imagined them? The room had been rearranged slightly. There was a step stool in the middle of the floor. I had overheard the paramedics digging for any medications the lady may have been taking, so I attributed the sudden appearance of the step stool to their rummaging through cabinets. There was a skillet full of uncooked eggs on the stove. I checked to make sure all the burners were turned off. I felt the oven door to make sure that hadn't been turned on either. All the knobs were off.
The money was still everywhere, though. A box of jewelry with bills sticking out of the top sat on the back burner. A shoebox with a stack of cash was on the kitchen table next to a purse spilling forth ten and twenty dollar bills. The other things were gone though. I pushed it to the back of my mind. Kayley was standing in the kitchen doorway.
"When will my grandma be here?" She whimpered uncertainly. "Soon," I told her,"She is on her way right now." I put my arm around her and turned her away from the kitchen. "We should pack some things to take to grandma's house, right? Where are your clothes, sweetie?" We began searching for some clean things for her to pack. That was when grandma arrived. I introduced myself. She was very apologetic for keeping me awake. She fussed at Reggie for jumping on her, then moved absently around the house. I am not sure what she was doing. She was not that old...she couldn't have dementia. I snagged her attention back to the reason for her being there. "I have been trying to find some things to pack for Kayley." She nodded but went into the kitchen.
That was when a police officer popped back inside the house. At least the lady had the presence of mind to grab Reggie's leash. The officer spoke to the grandmother, asking about her daughter's past medical history. While that was going on, I took Kayley to find a bag for her things. It wasn't easy, but we found one and shoved a change of clothes into it. I handed Kayley her coat to put on as well. "She has a history of seizures....and a metal rod in her back. But that is all." The grandmother told the officer. I silently sighed in relief. Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps what I thought I saw was something else.
I checked the front door to make sure it was locked. The grandma was heading for the door with Kayley, who was clearly relieved to be leaving. "Do you think you should take her purse?" I asked, and pointed to the purse laying open on the kitchen table. The woman seemed taken aback but nodded and retrieved it. I locked the side door behind me and helped her get Kayley and Reggie in the car. She thanked me again for staying with Kayley. I told her my name again and my house number in case she needed anything else. And then they were gone.
Standing in the snow, out in the cold night, I said a prayer for Kayley. And for her mother. God moves in mysterious ways...but they are only mysterious to us. Every once in awhile we get a glimpse of how He moves, and in those moments.....well, I know I am blown away.
Four days later: Brian leaves the house with Lena to go to the park. A police cruiser pulls up and the officer gets out to talk to Brian. I watch the scene from inside the house. I was doing laundry and just happened to walk by the window. After a few minutes, the cop gets back in his cruiser and drives off with the siren on. Brian proceeds to the park with Lena. Of course, I am anxious to know what happened. Did the officer have news about the woman? Was she okay? I sent Brian a text to see what was up. He said the officer just wanted our phone number and would be in contact with him later. He didn't give any details about the woman who had been carted off by paramedics.
The officer didn't call Brian. He called me. That afternoon he called because he had a few gaps in his report that he needed to fill in. He asked if the little girl came to my house to get me. He used this wording with Brian when identifying him on the street earlier that day. Brian had told him that I had heard the little girl and went out to her. I told the officer the same: that I heard her and went out to see what was wrong; she told me that her mom was on the kitchen floor and wouldn't wake up. I told him about the dog and how I stayed in the back room. He said that he was glad to have the identity of that person filled in and that I would be listed in the report.
"We are looking into this. There is an investigation going. We don't let things like that slide here." He added.
My stomach dropped. Ah, the feeling of disappointment. My instincts had been right. My eyes had not deceived me. The elastic band on the counter, the needle case, the bottle of pills spilled across the floor. No, I knew. But I wanted to think better of the situation. I wanted to think better of this mother.
I asked if the lady was alright. He said that she had been released from the hospital. Then he added, "Don't worry, the people handling the estate have taken care of it and you won't be seeing her around anymore." I had noticed that the car was gone. They had kicked her out. No more squatting at dead grandmama's house. His tone said it all: the riffraff was gone. I wanted to ask more: What about the little girl? Where were they now? Were they getting help? But the officer implied that the little girl would probably be taken away, then he stated that since there was an investigation he could not say any more, and they would be in touch with me if they needed me for anything in the future of the case. Great! Did that mean I will have to testify? Be called as a witness?
**Note: Names have been changed and certain details were omitted due to the delicacy of the matter.
(Brian's name was not one of them.)
I returned inside and held the dog's leash tight while corraling him and the little girl into the back room where the small black and white t.v. set flickered. I closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. I sat down on a small couch and the little girl sat down on the chair next to me. The room was dark except for the glow of the t.v. set. I could hear the police enter the house from the side door. They were discussing the best way to bring the stretcher inside. They directed the paramedics to enter through the front door. The noise of their work disturbed me some. I didn't think the little girl should overhear what was being said and the things that were happening. Keeping one ear turned toward the activity, I focused on distracting the child, who kept glancing at the door.
I asked her what her name was, slightly appalled at myself that I hadn't found that out yet. She told me that her name was Kayley. I told her that was a very pretty name. I introduced myself as well, and then asked what her dog's name was. "Reggie," she said, "Mommy named him and he loves mommy very much."
I told her that I could tell since he was being a very good guard dog. Reggie was sitting at my feet while I stroked his back. Every few moments he would hear a noise he didn't like, mainly male voices, and he would leap to his feet again. My soft murmurs were enough to calm him down.
I asked Kayley how old she was. "Five." She said proudly. She told me that she had an older brother but he was staying with their grandma. That information didn't seem to line up with what I knew already, but I didn't press the issue. I asked her how she found her mommy in the kitchen. "I was sleeping on the couch but then I woke up and went looking for my mommy." "And she was on the floor?" I asked, wanting to have a clear picture in my head. She nodded. I kept talking to her, trying to keep her distracted. Every question I asked or story I told her about my own children seemed to return somehow to the her own mother. Kayley was overly attached for a five year old. In the back of my mind, I wondered how many times she had been in this situation.
The lack of commotion in the other room caught my attention. I heard a guy say something about a little girl being here. I called out then, saying that she was in the back room with the guard dog. The police officer came near the door and asked if anyone had contacted a relative to come get the child. I told him that the grandmother was on the way. He wanted to know the contact phone number for the grandmother so I handed him my cell phone through the crack in the door. He said the number was nearby and the grandma should be arriving soon. He asked me to make sure the house was locked up before I left. And then everyone was gone.
At 2am, my mind flittered to the fact that I was sitting in a strange house in the middle of the night, with a child I did not know, holding a leash to a dog that wasn't exactly friendly. I wanted to be used. No one else had come to see why a little girl was screaming in the street. No one else even opened the door or fluttered a curtain. I was there. I was placed there....right there. At the house across the street from the little girl who stood screaming for help...for me...in the middle of the night. He was using me mightily. Little 'ole me comforted that child who had seen too much for such innocent eyes. That I had no doubt of.
I slowly opened the door and peeked around to make sure there wasn't any lingering officers for Reggie to attack. The coast was clear. I let go of the leash so Reggie could do his thing and secure the area. My hand was sore from gripping the leather so tightly. I walked to the kitchen. I am not sure exactly why, but a voice in the back of my head wanted to see if the things I had seen earlier were still there. Or had I imagined them? The room had been rearranged slightly. There was a step stool in the middle of the floor. I had overheard the paramedics digging for any medications the lady may have been taking, so I attributed the sudden appearance of the step stool to their rummaging through cabinets. There was a skillet full of uncooked eggs on the stove. I checked to make sure all the burners were turned off. I felt the oven door to make sure that hadn't been turned on either. All the knobs were off.
The money was still everywhere, though. A box of jewelry with bills sticking out of the top sat on the back burner. A shoebox with a stack of cash was on the kitchen table next to a purse spilling forth ten and twenty dollar bills. The other things were gone though. I pushed it to the back of my mind. Kayley was standing in the kitchen doorway.
"When will my grandma be here?" She whimpered uncertainly. "Soon," I told her,"She is on her way right now." I put my arm around her and turned her away from the kitchen. "We should pack some things to take to grandma's house, right? Where are your clothes, sweetie?" We began searching for some clean things for her to pack. That was when grandma arrived. I introduced myself. She was very apologetic for keeping me awake. She fussed at Reggie for jumping on her, then moved absently around the house. I am not sure what she was doing. She was not that old...she couldn't have dementia. I snagged her attention back to the reason for her being there. "I have been trying to find some things to pack for Kayley." She nodded but went into the kitchen.
That was when a police officer popped back inside the house. At least the lady had the presence of mind to grab Reggie's leash. The officer spoke to the grandmother, asking about her daughter's past medical history. While that was going on, I took Kayley to find a bag for her things. It wasn't easy, but we found one and shoved a change of clothes into it. I handed Kayley her coat to put on as well. "She has a history of seizures....and a metal rod in her back. But that is all." The grandmother told the officer. I silently sighed in relief. Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps what I thought I saw was something else.
I checked the front door to make sure it was locked. The grandma was heading for the door with Kayley, who was clearly relieved to be leaving. "Do you think you should take her purse?" I asked, and pointed to the purse laying open on the kitchen table. The woman seemed taken aback but nodded and retrieved it. I locked the side door behind me and helped her get Kayley and Reggie in the car. She thanked me again for staying with Kayley. I told her my name again and my house number in case she needed anything else. And then they were gone.
Standing in the snow, out in the cold night, I said a prayer for Kayley. And for her mother. God moves in mysterious ways...but they are only mysterious to us. Every once in awhile we get a glimpse of how He moves, and in those moments.....well, I know I am blown away.
Four days later: Brian leaves the house with Lena to go to the park. A police cruiser pulls up and the officer gets out to talk to Brian. I watch the scene from inside the house. I was doing laundry and just happened to walk by the window. After a few minutes, the cop gets back in his cruiser and drives off with the siren on. Brian proceeds to the park with Lena. Of course, I am anxious to know what happened. Did the officer have news about the woman? Was she okay? I sent Brian a text to see what was up. He said the officer just wanted our phone number and would be in contact with him later. He didn't give any details about the woman who had been carted off by paramedics.
The officer didn't call Brian. He called me. That afternoon he called because he had a few gaps in his report that he needed to fill in. He asked if the little girl came to my house to get me. He used this wording with Brian when identifying him on the street earlier that day. Brian had told him that I had heard the little girl and went out to her. I told the officer the same: that I heard her and went out to see what was wrong; she told me that her mom was on the kitchen floor and wouldn't wake up. I told him about the dog and how I stayed in the back room. He said that he was glad to have the identity of that person filled in and that I would be listed in the report.
"We are looking into this. There is an investigation going. We don't let things like that slide here." He added.
My stomach dropped. Ah, the feeling of disappointment. My instincts had been right. My eyes had not deceived me. The elastic band on the counter, the needle case, the bottle of pills spilled across the floor. No, I knew. But I wanted to think better of the situation. I wanted to think better of this mother.
I asked if the lady was alright. He said that she had been released from the hospital. Then he added, "Don't worry, the people handling the estate have taken care of it and you won't be seeing her around anymore." I had noticed that the car was gone. They had kicked her out. No more squatting at dead grandmama's house. His tone said it all: the riffraff was gone. I wanted to ask more: What about the little girl? Where were they now? Were they getting help? But the officer implied that the little girl would probably be taken away, then he stated that since there was an investigation he could not say any more, and they would be in touch with me if they needed me for anything in the future of the case. Great! Did that mean I will have to testify? Be called as a witness?
**Note: Names have been changed and certain details were omitted due to the delicacy of the matter.
(Brian's name was not one of them.)
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Being in a Criminal Report is no fun!
Okay, so I was trying to put these posts in sequential order, but things have happened and everyone wants to know the story about the little girl. So, here goes:
Last Thursday, about 1am, I was just starting to doze off after Brian made it home from work when I heard a child's voice. Was it one of the girls? I listened closely but didn't hear anything. Then, I heard it again. Was Tierney talking in her sleep? Had Lena left one of her talking toys on? Nothing. I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to talk with Him some more even though I had said my bedtime prayers already. I asked Him to use me someway. I mean, He had moved us up to Ohio, so I wanted to be put to use. Oh, when will I learn to be ready before I ask? He answers...always...and lately, it has been rather immediate. It definitely was on that Thursday night.
"Help! Someone help my mommy!"
I did not mistake that scream. I bolted up in bed and looked out the window. A little girl in a nightgown stood on the driveway across the street. I watched her go to her neighbor's door but no one answered. She screamed again and again. I climbed out of bed, and wearing my nightgown, grabbed a blanket out of the linen closet, put my jacket and snow boots on, shoved my cell phone in my pocket, and headed out the door.
"What's wrong, honey?" I remember asking her when I made it across the street. She told me that her mommy was on the kitchen floor and wouldn't wake up. She took me to the side door of the house, where a Boxer barked and growled. Yikes!
I am not a dog person. I did not want to be attacked by this dog. "Hey there, sweetie." I said in a comforting tone. The dog sat down immediately. The little girl opened the door, and the Boxer jumped up and licked my face. It nearly knocked me back outside. I grabbed his leash and began talking to him while stroking his back. He calmed down enough to make it inside the house and up the stairs to the hallway. The house was like walking into a museum. A museum for the preservation of 1963. The place reminded me of my great grandma's house back in Louisville. There was a rotary phone on the hall perch. The furniture was covered in plastic and on the wall hung a 11x13 photo of a lady with a beehive. No joke. The only place in the house that seemed to have been touched lately was the back room where a t.v. flickered with Carson Daly, and where clothes were scattered about in a nearby bedroom.
I followed the little girl into the kitchen. My eyes scanned the room and noticed some odd things. But my attention was quickly drawn to the lady laying near the sink on the floor. She was laying face down on the floor in a hoodie and boyshort underwear. I took the blanket I was holding and laid it over her legs. I shook her and called out to her, but she didn't respond. I checked her pulse. She was alive, but her heart seemed a bit fast.
I turned to the little girl then, and reassured her that her mommy was okay. I told her I was going to call for help. The girl seemed to relax a little then. I immediately dialed 9-1-1. I asked the little girl what her house number was but she didn't know. I ran outside, where Brian met me, and we scanned the house until we found a small placade in the yard with the street number on it. Help was on the way.
I headed back inside. Brian tried to follow, but the dog had a gleam in his eye and a ferocious growl waiting for him. I shooed Brian away and calmed the dog again so I could get inside. I told the little girl that help was on the way. I asked her if she knew a phone number of someone I could call for her. She wanted her grandma to come pick her up but didn't know the number. I decided to go next door to the neighbor's house. I had seen the older gentleman that lived there check on this house a few weeks before, so I thought that perhaps they might know whom to call. The little girl said they must not be home. I had seen her go over to their house for help but no one answered the door. I was going to try anyway.
The man answered and he had apparently been awake (surprise, surprise). He had a number on a little card. I looked at the card. At the top was a name & phone number in large print, and below that was another name & phone number in smaller print. The name of the grandmother was the smaller. It didn't take long for me to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. The name at the top of the card was their former neighbor--the great-grandmother. Apparently she had recently died and this granddaughter was crashing at her place now. That certainly explained the tribute to 1963 and the reason for the clothes stashed in the back room.
I called the grandma, who sighed when I told her that her daughter was nonresponsive on the kitchen floor. Okay, that wasn't the response I had expected. I asked her if she could come get the little girl. She asked if the neighbors were home. I ignored her. The neighbors obviously did not want to help. They were elderly and did not want to be bothered with the situation. I asked her again if she would come and pick up her granddaughter. She said she would be there as soon as she could. She asked me to stay there with the child. DUH!
When I got off the phone with her, the police had arrived followed by an ambulance.
Right about then, Brian pulled me aside to whisper in my ear that he had my gun shoved into the back waistband of his jeans. He had grabbed it on his way out the door. He didn't know what I was doing running across the street but he wanted to be ready for it. I thanked him for having my back. But having a gun on him right now! Lovely.
To be continued.......
Last Thursday, about 1am, I was just starting to doze off after Brian made it home from work when I heard a child's voice. Was it one of the girls? I listened closely but didn't hear anything. Then, I heard it again. Was Tierney talking in her sleep? Had Lena left one of her talking toys on? Nothing. I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to talk with Him some more even though I had said my bedtime prayers already. I asked Him to use me someway. I mean, He had moved us up to Ohio, so I wanted to be put to use. Oh, when will I learn to be ready before I ask? He answers...always...and lately, it has been rather immediate. It definitely was on that Thursday night.
"Help! Someone help my mommy!"
I did not mistake that scream. I bolted up in bed and looked out the window. A little girl in a nightgown stood on the driveway across the street. I watched her go to her neighbor's door but no one answered. She screamed again and again. I climbed out of bed, and wearing my nightgown, grabbed a blanket out of the linen closet, put my jacket and snow boots on, shoved my cell phone in my pocket, and headed out the door.
"What's wrong, honey?" I remember asking her when I made it across the street. She told me that her mommy was on the kitchen floor and wouldn't wake up. She took me to the side door of the house, where a Boxer barked and growled. Yikes!
I am not a dog person. I did not want to be attacked by this dog. "Hey there, sweetie." I said in a comforting tone. The dog sat down immediately. The little girl opened the door, and the Boxer jumped up and licked my face. It nearly knocked me back outside. I grabbed his leash and began talking to him while stroking his back. He calmed down enough to make it inside the house and up the stairs to the hallway. The house was like walking into a museum. A museum for the preservation of 1963. The place reminded me of my great grandma's house back in Louisville. There was a rotary phone on the hall perch. The furniture was covered in plastic and on the wall hung a 11x13 photo of a lady with a beehive. No joke. The only place in the house that seemed to have been touched lately was the back room where a t.v. flickered with Carson Daly, and where clothes were scattered about in a nearby bedroom.
I followed the little girl into the kitchen. My eyes scanned the room and noticed some odd things. But my attention was quickly drawn to the lady laying near the sink on the floor. She was laying face down on the floor in a hoodie and boyshort underwear. I took the blanket I was holding and laid it over her legs. I shook her and called out to her, but she didn't respond. I checked her pulse. She was alive, but her heart seemed a bit fast.
I turned to the little girl then, and reassured her that her mommy was okay. I told her I was going to call for help. The girl seemed to relax a little then. I immediately dialed 9-1-1. I asked the little girl what her house number was but she didn't know. I ran outside, where Brian met me, and we scanned the house until we found a small placade in the yard with the street number on it. Help was on the way.
I headed back inside. Brian tried to follow, but the dog had a gleam in his eye and a ferocious growl waiting for him. I shooed Brian away and calmed the dog again so I could get inside. I told the little girl that help was on the way. I asked her if she knew a phone number of someone I could call for her. She wanted her grandma to come pick her up but didn't know the number. I decided to go next door to the neighbor's house. I had seen the older gentleman that lived there check on this house a few weeks before, so I thought that perhaps they might know whom to call. The little girl said they must not be home. I had seen her go over to their house for help but no one answered the door. I was going to try anyway.
The man answered and he had apparently been awake (surprise, surprise). He had a number on a little card. I looked at the card. At the top was a name & phone number in large print, and below that was another name & phone number in smaller print. The name of the grandmother was the smaller. It didn't take long for me to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. The name at the top of the card was their former neighbor--the great-grandmother. Apparently she had recently died and this granddaughter was crashing at her place now. That certainly explained the tribute to 1963 and the reason for the clothes stashed in the back room.
I called the grandma, who sighed when I told her that her daughter was nonresponsive on the kitchen floor. Okay, that wasn't the response I had expected. I asked her if she could come get the little girl. She asked if the neighbors were home. I ignored her. The neighbors obviously did not want to help. They were elderly and did not want to be bothered with the situation. I asked her again if she would come and pick up her granddaughter. She said she would be there as soon as she could. She asked me to stay there with the child. DUH!
When I got off the phone with her, the police had arrived followed by an ambulance.
Right about then, Brian pulled me aside to whisper in my ear that he had my gun shoved into the back waistband of his jeans. He had grabbed it on his way out the door. He didn't know what I was doing running across the street but he wanted to be ready for it. I thanked him for having my back. But having a gun on him right now! Lovely.
To be continued.......
Thursday, February 10, 2011
This is it!
The search was on! After finding the perfect neighborhood, we were pumped to find the perfect house. The list was long, but our hopes were high. Most of the houses on our list were smaller than the house we owned in Kentucky, but many were laid out with more functionality instead of the wide open spaces of our Green Gables. And our list only contained houses with basements. Most of the houses on the list needed some sort of work, whether it was a total remodel to update it from my grandma's decor (one house still had old linoleum that came up about 5 inches on the wall!) or if it was just to finish the basement to our liking, we had to consider that with our budget.
We looked at several houses that were just too much work for the price. Of course, the price that was being asked was not the price that would be paid, but it was more than I wanted to pay even if we talked them down. So, they were marked off the list. We also marked off the house that backed up to the beer garden, had no garage, & one that had structural damage. Then we marked off the ones that were not set up to house all of our kids (we have 4), so that pretty much narrowed it down. There were about 6 houses left to really consider.
After viewing an upcoming open house online that needed absolutely no work, had been updated beyond what we would expect, and was listed on the national historic register we decided to make another trip to Dayton. The house was at the top of our price range but we LOVED it (the online version, anyway.) So we set out to take a look.
The open house was packed. But the house was lovely, especially the beautifully done backyard. The bedrooms felt a tad bit small and we would have to change the basement even though it was finished. Bottom line: we would still have to do some work. Reluctantly, we crossed that one off our list. That Sunday, we saw six houses and at four of them, we saw the same open house visitors that were at the first house. The neighborhood was in high demand. We would have to jump on a house that we saw & actually liked. There were several houses that could "work," but they didn't feel like home to me. Of course, Brian was getting frustrated with me because he could not understand that. I think he would just live in a cardboard box and be done. But cardboard gets soggy in the rain (& snow!) and the kids would just color on the walls. Thus,we returned to Kentucky feeling a bit jaded.
How often I return to Him is surely not as much as I should, but once more, I was asking for help. "Just let me know. Just let me know."
Our realtor set us up on an automatic email listing that sent us homes in Oakwood that matched our criteria. On Tuesday, we received a newly listed house on the market. The pictures were not up but we told them to put it on the list. We had a few others to see so we headed back to Dayton after Brian had a weekend at home. This time, the trip was kid free. (Yippee!) We saw two disappointing homes the morning of our latest search, but when we showed up at the house that we hadn't seen the pictures of, we thought....looks good so far. The outside had been recently painted with complimentary colors, it had off-street parking, a 2-car garage, a decent sized yard for the area, and.....drum roll, please...a playset in the backyard. For those of you who never had the opportunity to visit our house in KY, you are unaware of the 3-story mega playset that was in our yard. Having a playset in the backyard was a big deal. Plus, the house was less than a block from Orchardly Park...aka Disneyland.
Inside the house, the hardwood floors were beautiful. The woodwork was original and the home had a overall feel of having "character." We love old homes. The house is a Sears Craftsman...Americus model, I believe. The owners had laid out receipts of recent upgrades and purchases on the house. The bathroom had been redone about 3 weeks before it was listed. The front and back yards had new sod (not that we could tell at that time...snow was everywhere.) The upstairs had three good sized bedrooms. The basement had a finished family room and office (a place for Isaac's bedroom) and room to grow. But when I saw the kitchen, I looked at Brian and said, "This is it!" Many realtors claim that it is the kitchen that sales the home, and in this case, it was true! But I wasn't blown away by the sparkling upgrades and modern appliances. It came only with a dishwasher, a range, and a disposal. But the hardwood floor, the cabinetry, the new wood countertops, and brightness of the room....well, it just clicked.
Help had arrived. I had my answer. "This is it!" We made an offer that day. We got the house. Of course, the closing pended on the closing of our house in Kentucky.
P.S. For those of you following this along on Facebook:
1) I may not always share when there is a new blog post (they say you lose it the more kids you have, and since I have 4 already...I'm just saying) so make sure you sign up to be a follower.
2) I definitely plan on filling you in about my "interesting night involving a 5 year old girl standing in her driveway screaming, "Help!" soon. This blog will be ongoing about all of our adventures and misadventures here in Oakwood....so that will be in a blog post to come.
We looked at several houses that were just too much work for the price. Of course, the price that was being asked was not the price that would be paid, but it was more than I wanted to pay even if we talked them down. So, they were marked off the list. We also marked off the house that backed up to the beer garden, had no garage, & one that had structural damage. Then we marked off the ones that were not set up to house all of our kids (we have 4), so that pretty much narrowed it down. There were about 6 houses left to really consider.
After viewing an upcoming open house online that needed absolutely no work, had been updated beyond what we would expect, and was listed on the national historic register we decided to make another trip to Dayton. The house was at the top of our price range but we LOVED it (the online version, anyway.) So we set out to take a look.
The open house was packed. But the house was lovely, especially the beautifully done backyard. The bedrooms felt a tad bit small and we would have to change the basement even though it was finished. Bottom line: we would still have to do some work. Reluctantly, we crossed that one off our list. That Sunday, we saw six houses and at four of them, we saw the same open house visitors that were at the first house. The neighborhood was in high demand. We would have to jump on a house that we saw & actually liked. There were several houses that could "work," but they didn't feel like home to me. Of course, Brian was getting frustrated with me because he could not understand that. I think he would just live in a cardboard box and be done. But cardboard gets soggy in the rain (& snow!) and the kids would just color on the walls. Thus,we returned to Kentucky feeling a bit jaded.
How often I return to Him is surely not as much as I should, but once more, I was asking for help. "Just let me know. Just let me know."
Our realtor set us up on an automatic email listing that sent us homes in Oakwood that matched our criteria. On Tuesday, we received a newly listed house on the market. The pictures were not up but we told them to put it on the list. We had a few others to see so we headed back to Dayton after Brian had a weekend at home. This time, the trip was kid free. (Yippee!) We saw two disappointing homes the morning of our latest search, but when we showed up at the house that we hadn't seen the pictures of, we thought....looks good so far. The outside had been recently painted with complimentary colors, it had off-street parking, a 2-car garage, a decent sized yard for the area, and.....drum roll, please...a playset in the backyard. For those of you who never had the opportunity to visit our house in KY, you are unaware of the 3-story mega playset that was in our yard. Having a playset in the backyard was a big deal. Plus, the house was less than a block from Orchardly Park...aka Disneyland.
Inside the house, the hardwood floors were beautiful. The woodwork was original and the home had a overall feel of having "character." We love old homes. The house is a Sears Craftsman...Americus model, I believe. The owners had laid out receipts of recent upgrades and purchases on the house. The bathroom had been redone about 3 weeks before it was listed. The front and back yards had new sod (not that we could tell at that time...snow was everywhere.) The upstairs had three good sized bedrooms. The basement had a finished family room and office (a place for Isaac's bedroom) and room to grow. But when I saw the kitchen, I looked at Brian and said, "This is it!" Many realtors claim that it is the kitchen that sales the home, and in this case, it was true! But I wasn't blown away by the sparkling upgrades and modern appliances. It came only with a dishwasher, a range, and a disposal. But the hardwood floor, the cabinetry, the new wood countertops, and brightness of the room....well, it just clicked.
Help had arrived. I had my answer. "This is it!" We made an offer that day. We got the house. Of course, the closing pended on the closing of our house in Kentucky.
P.S. For those of you following this along on Facebook:
1) I may not always share when there is a new blog post (they say you lose it the more kids you have, and since I have 4 already...I'm just saying) so make sure you sign up to be a follower.
2) I definitely plan on filling you in about my "interesting night involving a 5 year old girl standing in her driveway screaming, "Help!" soon. This blog will be ongoing about all of our adventures and misadventures here in Oakwood....so that will be in a blog post to come.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Finding Oakwood
During one of our intense, mad dash house hunting trips in Dayton, we met our realtor at a house in Patterson Park. The house was nice and we thought about buying it, but were still a bit hesitant. It fit the criteria for the most part but it did not scream "buy me." Correction: It did not say "Welcome home." Our realtor suggested we check out the bordering neighborhood, Oakwood. She said the schools were excellent, had mostly pre-WWII homes, and was considered Dayton's "old money." We decided to check the area out before committing to purchasing the house on Warrington.
As we drove into the neighborhood, we were first greeted by a pretty sign reading, "Welcome to the City of Oakwood." The houses were beautiful, well-kept, and historic. This was one of the last weekends before snow covered everything and people were out running, walking their dogs, raking leaves, and playing at the park. School banners hung on houses declaring "Oakwood Football," "Oakwood Swimming," and "Oakwood Basketball." There was school pride everywhere. The school buildings were aesthetically pleasing historic buildings and the parks fabulous. One park in particular thoroughly excited the kids: Orchardly Park (dubbed Disneyland by the locals.) The shops bordering the small community were promising. Brian and I were pumped. I saw a kid cleaning out the gutters while his dad supervised. If the atmosphere here encouraged children to contribute to the household chores, then I was in! Even the kids were excited. We drove back to Kentucky and narrowed down our online search to Oakwood houses.
Then came the sticker shock. Houses in Oakwood had not fell as far as the rest of Dayton's housing market. There were still several in our price range, but none of them were 5 or 6 bedrooms. This neighborhood has a majority of $300K and up housing. But, we printed off a list of about 25 houses in our price range (most of them at the top of it) and sent them to our realtor to set up. We then went to do some research on the neighborhood. The taxes are pretty steep here in Oakwood. We pay (take a deep breath!) $300 a month alone in taxes. But we get a lot for the money. The library is first class. The school system (which we are not utilizing at the moment because we homeschool) is superb with the high school ranked 577th in the nation. There is an excellent community center that offers just about everything you could think of from dance classes, a health club, teen center, guitar classes, etiquette classes,etc.(OCC winter/spring) There is a community pool. The streets and sidewalks are plowed. There are 3 different parks in the city and the entire neighborhood borders a huge metro park that offers green spaces with great hiking & sledding. The amenities are too many to list here. Check out this website for a sampling:Welcome to Oakwood.
I asked for help and He answered. Oakwood felt like the perfect place for our family to settle.
Now, we just had to find the perfect house!
As we drove into the neighborhood, we were first greeted by a pretty sign reading, "Welcome to the City of Oakwood." The houses were beautiful, well-kept, and historic. This was one of the last weekends before snow covered everything and people were out running, walking their dogs, raking leaves, and playing at the park. School banners hung on houses declaring "Oakwood Football," "Oakwood Swimming," and "Oakwood Basketball." There was school pride everywhere. The school buildings were aesthetically pleasing historic buildings and the parks fabulous. One park in particular thoroughly excited the kids: Orchardly Park (dubbed Disneyland by the locals.) The shops bordering the small community were promising. Brian and I were pumped. I saw a kid cleaning out the gutters while his dad supervised. If the atmosphere here encouraged children to contribute to the household chores, then I was in! Even the kids were excited. We drove back to Kentucky and narrowed down our online search to Oakwood houses.
Then came the sticker shock. Houses in Oakwood had not fell as far as the rest of Dayton's housing market. There were still several in our price range, but none of them were 5 or 6 bedrooms. This neighborhood has a majority of $300K and up housing. But, we printed off a list of about 25 houses in our price range (most of them at the top of it) and sent them to our realtor to set up. We then went to do some research on the neighborhood. The taxes are pretty steep here in Oakwood. We pay (take a deep breath!) $300 a month alone in taxes. But we get a lot for the money. The library is first class. The school system (which we are not utilizing at the moment because we homeschool) is superb with the high school ranked 577th in the nation. There is an excellent community center that offers just about everything you could think of from dance classes, a health club, teen center, guitar classes, etiquette classes,etc.(OCC winter/spring) There is a community pool. The streets and sidewalks are plowed. There are 3 different parks in the city and the entire neighborhood borders a huge metro park that offers green spaces with great hiking & sledding. The amenities are too many to list here. Check out this website for a sampling:Welcome to Oakwood.
I asked for help and He answered. Oakwood felt like the perfect place for our family to settle.
Now, we just had to find the perfect house!
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