Grassy-haired Girl

Fun was had.

The proof is in the hair-do: disheveled braids. ..grass poking out from here and there.

You simply don't get this kind of hair by sitting pristinely sipping tea with pinky elevated. Not to say that isn't a kind of fun all of it's own.

Nope. This kind of hair is created when one learns to log-roll down a grassy hill in the springtime.

On Friday night, Bill, Camille, Liv and I headed out to see Uncle P.J. at the Burke High School track here in Omaha. As the girls varsity pole vault coach, he was just finishing up for the day with his coaching duties. We all perched on a hillside to watch the finish of the track meet, and the magic began as we watched P.J. put on his too-fun uncle hat.

P.J. always has it in him to teach the girls something new and fun...something that probably woudn't even occur to mom...in style that I could never match. Friday, it was Camille's lesson in log-rolling down a hill. I watched in complete adoration as he tucked himself into a straight line and demonstrated the perfect log-rolling technique and then proceeded to line-up Camille, cross her hands on top of her chest, and nudge her on the first of many, many, many rolls down the hill. Before long, she was scrambling up the hill, asking for more...and more...and more. "Uncle P.J., I want to roll down the hill again with you!"

Seemingly always needing to add her own style to any situation, given her 5-inch waist span, every time she rolled down the hill she started to lose her pants and show a little moon, which made her giggle even more.

I wish I would have had my camera to catch that ear-to-ear Camille grin....the perfect accent to the spring green backdrop. But, alas, since I didn't, you'll have to settle for the proof in the do.

We love you, Peej.

Cast Away

Today was the day.

No more yellow fiberglass.

Liv's cast is gone. The only trace that the cast existed is the lizard skin that it left behind.

Oh, yeah...and the fact that she won't walk. Which actually means that since she had been running on her cast means that we've taken a few (okay, several) steps backwards. I don't suppose it helps that Camille has frequently reminded her all afternoon and into the evening that she isn't wearing her cast anymore....that seems to only draw attention to the fact that she had, indeed, been injured and does, indeed, have a certain entitlement to milk it for all it's worth.

There's always tomorrow.

Chicks in there

One of my favorite parts of being a mom has to be that the girls have a knack for pulling me into their alternate universe---the world where everything is possible and the only limit is how far the imagination will stretch. Everyday experiences take on an entirely different perspective, which often results in quite a string of story-telling. Life is so much more fun and exciting in their world...and this balances out my previously mentioned tendency to overthink and over-analzye.

Liv was sicker than sick over Easter. We had to cut our trip back to Sumner/Kearney short for fear that we were infecting the greater part of Central Nebraska with the wretched stomach bug that she somehow managed to contract. I have never seen someone vomit so much as this poor girl did---literally every 5-45 minutes for over twelve hours. Even ice chips evoked an undesireable response. By the 10th hour, her lips were bleeding from the acid and her poor little dry mouth. She was even passion-less about the Easter Bunny for quite some time.

When we got home, the fever set in (and continues to this moment), but at least after the vomiting stopped, her imagination reignited and the wheels started turning again, spilling out her unique perspective on the world. As I sat with her in bed last night, her eyes glossed over and her cheeks flaming red, she peered up at me and with the seriousness of a courtroom testimony, told me, "See that," (pointing at her non-casted knee and nodding earnestly) "there is a momma chick, a baby chick, and a daddy chick....living right inside there."

How curious.

And then I began thinking in Livvy mode...in that alternate universe.

"They're my babies in there."

I get it. Mommy's pregnancy meets the Easter Bunny.

Stories and Human Experience

One of my favorite classes of all time was an English class I took at UNL, I think in my sophomore year, entitled "Stories and Human Experience." The just of it was about how the written word effects each one of us differently based on our experiences in life, some stories speaking to us more because of what we have been through---good and not so. It was a very cerebral class with lots of introspection, which of course was right up my alley--after all, I have been called to the carpet more than once for thinking too much....and I'm guilty as charged.



For my term project, I compiled a portfolio of both written word and music that connected with my human experiences up until that point in my life, and of course, since it was an English class, I had to write about all of it, too. I hadn't thought about it much until lately when I had my Ipod on and was thinking of all of the songs certainly have connected to my experiences in the last five years, affording me much healing.



Isn't it great how music can be so very healing?



My indulgence within the last month has been the download of David Cook's debut album. I suspected that since he is quite a cerebral creature himself, I would get an album full of depth, and disappointed I was not. I also suspected that there may be a song somewhere in there dedicated to his brother, Aaron (hence the AC on David's guitar) who is fighting brain cancer. Suspicion confirmed. He wrote a beautiful ballad, "Permanent" dedicated to Aaron, and it's posted below if you want a good listen.



It's a song that speaks to all of us who have loved and have felt pain for our loved ones. Though it connects to me not because of a brother, it connects to me because of Sam and Hannah....and because we've seen Camille through an enormous amount of pain.



Stories and Human Experience.



Perhaps sometime down the road I'll share a few more songs with you.

David Cook - "Permanent" Live (HOB Orlando)

30 Weeks

Today, we had our 30 week visit for Baby O #5 at Dr. Roberstson's office. The girls provided waiting room entertainment for all. Camille held a literary reading of "Dr. Seuss's ABC's" with a double encore musical production of the Alphabet song. Liv just chattered incessantly whilst carrying around an orange which seemed to be serving as her baby.

The estimated weight of the baby is now 4# 2 oz, quite ginormous for gestational age. I will mention that this is just a few ounces shy of Camille's weight of 4# 7 oz when she came home from the hospital 11 weeks after being born.

Sometimes, life just serves you loaded moments on a platter where all you can think is, " hmmmm."

Beeps Galore

Yesterday, we had one of our favorite annual events....the beeping Easter egg Hunt sponsored by Boystown Lied Learning Center here in Omaha. Kristal Platt, a geneticist at Boystown and a woman we have grown to adore, does an amazing job organizing the event for visually impaired children and their siblings. I have to say that compared to any typical Easter Egg hunt, this is the mecca. Beeping eggs are stationed around the Hall of History (the Hunt had been moved inside to April winds and rain), all the kids get to find every egg by listening or looking and trade it in for a prize, the Easter Bunny makes an appearance, there are cookies and punch, and the same devoted group of volunteers keeps coming back, watching the kids grow and change.

This is the third year the event has been held and the third year we have attended...and it was the best year yet. Camille certainly has the hang of it by now, so much so that she didn't want to quit after she had found all 19 eggs and traded them in for prizes like candy, stuffed animals, braille books, and Easter novelties. She did an amazing job of listening for the beeping, heading for it, and finding the eggs by sight and sound when she got close enough. Liv loved it, too...so much so that she was inspired to walk---check that---run on her cast for the first time since donning it.

Ask Camille, though, and her favorite part was getting to see Anna, Emma and Maura. We met the Loberg family---Jean, Ken, Collin, Emma, Anna and Maura last summer at a family weekend at Nebraska Center for the Education of Children who are Blind or Visually Impaired (NCECBVI). The two oldest Loberg girls--Emma and Anna--doted on Camille the whole weekend. Yesterday, they spoiled her rotten again and Camille loved every single moment. For an hour after the hunt was over, Camille ran, she played balloons, she spelled, she sang...and when it was time to go home, she still wanted to stay and play with Emma and Anna. Livvy had a grand time, too....mostly hogging Maura's time and showing off her cast.

How fortunate we are to know such great families and have such great experiences.

Ear Glubs

We nearly had a tragedy tonight. The alarm clock next to the bed with the CD player which lulls Livvy to sleep was not working. On the fritz. Out of commission.

Of course, there were tears to be had. "Mom, I don't want it to be broken!"

Trust me, Liv. NEITHER do I.

But.....no worries! Super mom to the rescue. I remembered than in the catacombs of the girls' closet, we had a set of speakers to hook up to their Fisher Price MP3 player. Perfecto! Though we don't use it often because it sucks up batteries and has no adapter, this was the perfect fix for a messy situation.

But....do you think that I could get that thing to work either? Of course not. That would mean the stars are in alignment at our house, and, as noted in a previous post, that rarely happens.

"Oh, well," I thought. I'll just put her headphones back on and hope that she can fall asleep with them affixed to her head.

On go the headphones. Liv is thrilled.....however, she won't lay back on the pillow.

M: "It's okay, Liv. You can lay back on the pillow."

L: "Mom....I CAN'T lay back. See? I have my ear glubs (translation: ear gloves) on."

Luckily, with some propping, problem solved...and mission accomplished.

That's My Girl

At bedtime tonight, Camille and I were laying among her ladybug sheets, lamps still alight, listening to one of her Pooh audiobooks. 8-ish-o'clock.

Into the bedroom walks daddy, fresh off his monthly phone group for dads with children who have ROP.

Camille: "Daddy!"

Bill: "Camille!"

Camille: "Daddy!! Will you read with me....and then mommy can go scrapbooking?"

My Dear God, this child is brilliant and so thoughtful! I promise I didn't even put her up to it.



Okay.....I know...... reality check.....she just wanted me out of the picture so she could have some of her coveted one-on-one with her dad.

Still, she could have said "Will you read with me....so mommy can go clean the toilets?" I'll count my blessings that she senses how to get what she wants...quickly....no matter the motive.