Big Brother Knows Best March 24, 2013

I have an opinion on just about everything, true. There aren’t many things on which I hold so strong an opinion as on homeschooling. But this isn’t really about homeschooling.

The Romeike family came to America from Germany seeking the right to homeschool their children. In their “motherland” homeschooling is illegal (side note: you may recall that one of the major ways Hitler planned for the future of his Germany was through influencing the children in their schools). If deported, the Romeikes face persecution, prosecution, fines and possibly even the loss of their children into State custody. They have asked for political asylum and their case is being considered.

It’s not looking good.

But, like I said, this isn’t really about homeschooling.

Father knows best or Big Brother knows best? That is the real question here. If homeschooling is not a fundamental right, the logical conclusion is that the government can say that I MUST turn MY children over to THEM. How my husband and I choose to educate our children is OUR choice, not the government’s.

Want to do something about it?
1) Sign this petition— we need A LOT more signatures. If we can get 100,000 total signatures, the White House will make an official response. It’s not a guarantee of favorable action, but it’s a step.
2) Share this information with your friends via Facebook, Twitter, word of mouth… however you can. Get the word out.

Whether you’re a homeschooler or not, this is important and it will have an impact here in the U.S. Our rights are slowly… but surely… being stripped.

It’s not about a German family.

It’s not about homeschooling.

It’s about parental rights. And if you don’t do something, if you don’t stand up, if you don’t fight and pray and do what you can, you may not have the chance to stand and fight down the road.

For more info, click here.

Hodgepodge February 8, 2010

Here’s a hodgepodge. Enjoy!

Jaden is having a sleep over tonight and while I’m thrilled that he has a little friend and I’m sure he’s having a blast (well, he’d better be sleeping right now), it makes me a little sad to think of his bed empty. He’ll be five years old this week and I just can’t believe how fast he’s growing up. Cliche, I know. Should’ve seen this coming. And I did, really. I’ve done my best to soak up all his moments, to enjoy him, to love him actively… and I think I’ve done a decent job so far. I just can’t soak it ALL up, though. And I can’t hold him to me forever. Lord willing, my little man will grow up. I won’t be there for every moment. There will be nights when his bed is empty, when his seat at the dinner table sits untouched, when he doesn’t sneak out of his room with some silly bed time procrastination or other. These moments, in fact, are the whole point of parenting. My job is not to hold him close. My job is to help him learn to go out from me, to learn how to negotiate the world in a godly way, to learn how to be a servant of God in a place that does not know Him or His ways. So if I’m doing my job, these moments will eventually be the norm rather than the exception. I’m thankful it doesn’t happen all at once, that I can have just a taste here and just a taste there and I don’t have to send him out suddenly. My dear, sweet, innocent, loving, kind, caring, thoughtful, intelligent boy will hopefully become a dear, sweet, innocent (yet shrewd), loving, kind, caring, thoughtful, intelligent man… just like his daddy.

Tonight I finished knitting my first pair of socks. That excites me so much I think I’ll type it again. Tonight I finished knitting my first pair of socks. And one more time… tonight I finished knitting my first pair of socks. I’m quite thrilled about them, but not sure what in the world to wear them with clothes-wise. Actually, they are causing me a bit of a footwear crisis too. I have no suitable shoes to wear them with. Generally, I have two pairs of shoes per season. Not even per season, really… I have two pairs of shoes for warm weather (brown sandals and black sandals) and two pairs for cold weather (brown boots and black boots). The only other shoes I actually wear are a dirty, over-used pair of sneakers and a pair of flip-flops. There are other miscellaneous shoes in my closet that I’m not really sure why I own, but I do. There’s a darling little yeti-sized pair of black heels and a really cute pair of brown heels. Incredibly impractical shoes. Can’t wear them for more than an hour without big-time pain and I’m just not one of those women willing to suffer for beauty… at least not more than a couple of times a year. Anyway, back to the topic at hand: footwear crisis. I need new shoes so I can show off my oh-so-cool socks and the million pairs that will be following these. I hate hate hate shoe shopping. When your feet look as though they could double as flippers on a deep sea diving mission, shoe shopping tends to be a frustrating, disheartening, largely unsuccessful chore. BUT… I have really cool socks that I knit (did I mention that I knit them myself? With my own two hands? That these now marvelous creations used to be just balls of yarn? yep. I did it. That was me.) and I want to wear them and I want to look down at my feet and see my fabulous socks. So, I guess I’ll go shoe shopping and hope that the perfect pair falls out of the sky.

For most of the day, I had a really wonking sinus headache. Really wonking and throbing for much of it. Being pregnant, there’s not a lot you can take. For me, there’s pretty much Tylenol or Sudafed. Extra strength Tylenol helped some… an hour after I took it and only for about 30 minutes. Sudafed I swear made it worse. I’m a big fan of the neti pot, but it wasn’t helping either. A warm rag on my head was a nice distraction, but not actually helpful. Napping was out of the question with such a wonker. I thought I was doing a good job of hiding my pain at church tonight (people tend to worry about me since I’m pregnant and make a fuss when there’s no fuss needed, so I was trying not to worry them), but apparently not. Actually, I was quite touched at everyone’s concern for me. No one made a big fuss, but they did express their hope I’d feel better soon. I was most touched by a little girl named Mary. She’s 9 or so and one of those old souls. She really has a sweet and good heart. She told her granny I looked sad and they spoke to me afterward. I was so impressed with her perceptiveness and concern. She’s impressed me lots of other times with her love for people and thoughtful attitude. The world would be a better place with more Marys in it.

Really, it’s a big week altogether:
~As of yesterday, I’m 30 weeks along in my pregnancy. Only 10 more weeks to go until my due date and I’m praying I make it that far. Jaden was born at 31 weeks, so there’s cause for concern. I’m taking it easy, though, and feel great. Easiest pregnancy yet.
~Today, we have our first Financial Peace University class and I’m really excited for it. It’s 13 weeks long and I think this will make the difference for us in dealing with money. We’ve never been good with money and I’m ashamed to say we’ve been quite poor stewards in that area. We’ve tried to whip ourselves into shape, and we’ve done a lot better in recent times, but still not good. When I totaled up what we’d spent on bounce charges last year, I was astonished… completely astonished. We agreed it was time to stop trying the same old thing (will power… apparently we have none) and get some new tools. So, we signed up for the course and tomorrow is day one of our Total Money Makeover. Really thrilled!
~Jaden turns five Wednesday. Wow.
~Tae Kwon Do testing on Thursday… going for a second stripe on my yellow belt. Actually, I’m not too nervous this go-round. I know my kata well and I feel confident with my techniques. I am a little nervous about my one-steps, but I still have time to practice. Thinking I’ll be fine come Thursday.
~Friends over for dinner on Friday. There’s a family who comes through town once a year to deliver phone books for Downey Publishing. They’re a really terrific family and I’m sure wherever they go, they hear the same thing: we wish you lived here. Kind, generous, easy to talk to, godly… all around terrific. Their son is the one Jaden’s hanging out with tonight. They live out of a motel for many (most, I think) months each year, yet manage to be quite normal. Anyway, we’ve invited them over for dinner on Friday and hope it works out for them to come. Maybe their son can even stay the night.

Happy Birthday to my babies!!! November 16, 2009

Today my twins turn two.

Two years ago, about this time of day, I was sitting in my Dr’s office (okay… not sitting…) and learned I was 7 cm dialated and 80% effaced. If you don’t know what that means… sorry… not helping you out on that one… not really a blog topic. You’ll have to look it up ;o). I’d been having contractions for two weeks or so, but never anything in a solid enough pattern to go to the hospital. When the doctor saw how far along I was, she nearly didn’t let me go home, but I did have Jaden to take care of, after all, so we had to go home. We agreed to get him settled and then head back to Tulsa by 3:00 so I could get a strep test done, etc. and she’d come break my water at 6:00 ish.

We raced home, excited, nervous, in disbelief that today was the day! We’d been waiting for the day to spring on us like a cat out of a dark corner, but here it was… all announced and time to prepare for and… well, that was more shocking than the cat we were prepared for. We picked up Jaden at the baby sitters and she was so embarassed. Jaden had taken a tumble onto the concrete and scraped up his face pretty badly. One whole side of his face was road-rashed. It wasn’t her fault, but she felt guilty that it had happened on her watch. We scooped up our boy, took him home, grabbed his doodah, took him to the other sitters’ house and dropped him off.

 

WARNING: If you’re squeamish, read no further.

 

When we got to Tulsa, they wanted me in their little smock thingy and there was just no way. So, I wore what I wanted: a really seriously comfy sarong and a tee shirt. We did the strep test, wandered the halls, tried to get labor moving. I knit, we played cards and just… waited. Our friend who was planning to attend the birth and be our photographer called and offered to get me something to eat. I was starving, so this sounded good. She happened to be going to my favorite deli and they had some really stellar options. Before she could get there, though, the nurses informed me that I was not to eat anything in case I had to have a c-section. Blah.

Then came the debate. My dr called and told the nurses to start me on a pitocin drip. I was not having it. No way, no how, nuh-uh. Somewhere in the middle there, our doula (who was also our Bradley Method instructor) arrived. We’d discussed in class the need to stand up for ourselves and demand a full explanation of why what was happening. The dr wasn’t there, the nurses couldn’t give me an explanation and I didn’t want to be induced. So, the answer was no… three different times. Finally, the dr arrived… and she was not happy with me. Hand on hip in true womanly fashion, she growled, “I hear there’s some debate over the pitocin.” I explained that I didn’t want to be induced, that I was afraid it would cause contractions too painful for me to handle without drugs and that I’d rather she broke my water first. She wasn’t listening for a bit and (rather demeaningly) told me that I wasn’t going to get those babies out without some pain. I explained I wasn’t afraid of the natural pain; it was the unnatural pain I was afraid of. Then she understood. She has six of her own kids. She’s familiar with natural birth. She’s generally willing to do whatever you want as long as it’s medically responsible and you understand the consequences of your decision. We’d already been rounds over whether or not I could go without an epidural and she knew I wouldn’t budge if I didn’t want to. She explained that she wasn’t goint to give me enough pitocin to induce. Induction takes 12 units and she was going to give me two. It would be just enough to give my uterus some endurance after the birth of the first twin. I agreed.

She broke my water and full-0n labor started quickly. She broke my water at 8:45; Isaiah was born at 9:17. Isaac followed 12 minutes later. Those 12 minutes were more painful than all the rest. Isaiah had a short umbilical cord, but Isaac’s was really really long. She had to keep it from prolapsing and killing him before he could get out. I had gotten to feel Isaiah’s head as he was crowning, but not after. I got to feel Isaac’s head as he was crowning and as he flopped out. Amazing! I hope I never forget that as long as I live.

But I skipped a part. My dr and I had agreed that I would have to give birth in a c-section room, bright lights and all, just in case an emergency c-section became necessary. When it came time to push, though, she just told the nurses to bring everything into the room. I got to deliever my twins in a regular birthing room with my music, soft lighting and mellow surroundings. My husband was by my side all the while, my doula was helpful, our friend was encouraging and ready with the camera. I didn’t have to have any pain killers and my dr did such an outstanding job of judging when I ought to push that I didn’t even rip. It was a perfect birth– two perfect births, really.

I was up and walking within hours. The nurse was a hoot. She couldn’t get over that I’d had twins “naturally.” She kept asking me if it was true. I discovered the next day that her definition of “natural” and mine were different. She had been amazed that I’d delievered them without c-section. When she found out the next morning that I’d also done it without drugs, she was astounded. She was about 8 months along with her first baby and said she wasn’t going to tell her husband about me because he’d expect her to do as I had done.

I know this maybe sounds like bragging. It’s one thing I’m really proud of, though. And there aren’t that many things I’m proud of.