There were sick grandmothers, cardboard pancakes, and stuffed puppies.  There were long nights at the hospital.  There was mud, blood, ice, tears, a great lack of rest and a good deal of grace.  And pizza.  This is life. Ben was scheduled for a shunt revision on Friday.  We spent Wednesday making messes for Christmas, Thursday cleaning up after Christmas, and Friday came before any of us really wanted it to.  Grandma arrived bright and early, and sick with a worthy head cold.  With a wan smile and a will, she gathered up the three oldest boys for an overnight at her house (which didn’t have power after the recent ice storms).  The two youngest got strapped into car seats and headed a few hou

I’ve decided I’m not cut out to make gingerbread men. Small house; small kitchen. Small children; male, not-dainty, bulldozer-type children. Sugar; red dye and sprinkles; and corn syrup.  And children who’ve been cloistered in the house for days.  DAYS. Gingerbread is a recipe for trouble. I tried to break out, briefly, in a desperate run to Walmart when grandma stopped by to watch the little ones.  The parking lot was full; the isles packed.  I made it as far as toothbrushes before my cell phone buzzed.  Grandma had gotten called in to work.  I left.  That was Saturday.  It is now Tuesday.  Christmas Eve.  It has been over a week since most of my children have been beyond the snowbanks arou

“And how did little Tim behave?” asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart’s content. As good as gold,” said Bob, “and better.  Somehow he gets thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard.  He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men see. from The Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. I sat by the computer Sunday as the first snowstorm covered my little world, and read an update from a missionary friend in faraway hot India.  Fr

Two year old’s selfie Just a quick update.  Surgery has been moved to the 27th of December.  After Christmas.  Though we had scrambled to prepare for surgery today, I am glad to wait a couple weeks.  Rushing into brain surgery was giving me a headache. Before we had made plans for an operation, we had planned to go to the Spina Bifida clinic today to see all the specialist doctors who deal with the issues that Ben physically faces.  Since they postponed surgery, we were able to attend this fun-filled office visit as originally scheduled.  So we ended up going to the big city on this snowy day, and after driving for a few hours and finally getting there and unpacking the baby and 2 year old a

Today I went to Walmart three weeks before Christmas with my five children and a wheelchair.  It was a little bit tough.  Then, for perspective, I set up brain surgery for my two year old son.  For next week.  That was a little bit tougher. This is shaping up to be one humdinger of a December. Ever have those days when you really need good chocolate and all you have is a twice-melted cheap bar from Halloween?  From last year?  This month might be one of those days for me. A diagnosis needing brain surgery doesn’t really surprise me.  It’s par for the course with a kid born with Spina Bifida, unfortunately.  Because their spinal column never fused closed in the early weeks of gestation, the s

I have more children than money.  Their wants are grand, but their honest needs are few.  It’s the annual Christmas conundrum; get the kids something they will appreciate, use, and enjoy without breaking the bank or the overflowing toy cupboard.  My boys are still young, but there are a bunch of them now, so I’m beginning to see trends.  If you’re in a crunch like me, maybe these will help.  Honestly, a few of these probably will be under the tree at our house this year. Bubble wrap.  This has got to be near the top of any list.  Instant gratification, the joy of destruction, minimal mess to clean afterward.  This is always a fought-over commodity in our house, usually of greater interest th