The Unexpected

Apparently my heavenly Father decided I needed another lesson in taking things as they come this week. Sunday night, a tooth that has been bothering me off and on blew into a tooth ache that made me wish I had never been born, and turned me into a crying baby girl who just had her chocolate stolen out of her hand. I counted my breaths as I reclined on my bed, then when I lost count, I counted the beats in the music that was playing from my cell phone beside me. Not even my favorite worship song could get my mind off the pain, so I started reading. I have no idea what the book was about. I do remember the writing of it was almost painful to read in itself, so it didn't last long. My dear husband was beside himself, as he does not remember me being in quite so much pain since childbirth, and I handled that a tiny bit better than I was handling this. Finally after 2 prescription  pain pills, some numbing gel, and pure exhaustion, I was able to sleep. I had a dentist appointment at noon Monday.  I was still in pain, but not quite as bad as the night before, so I drove myself there, and before I knew it they had me in the chair, taking X-rays, and pictures. The dentist herself came in, and said, "yeah, it looks like it's your wisdom tooth that's causing the problem, so we're going to go in and pop that out of there, and you'll be feeling better in no time!" My head came up and my pain-fogged brain made it's first big decision of the day when it screamed "RUN!" I stayed in the chair, mainly because I was too tired to follow orders, and asked, "You're doing this now?" She looked into my wide eyes, and smiled. "Yup!" My head whirled, my blood pressure was rising, and I was approaching a state of sheer panic. And everything I wanted to say, got stuck because I have some self-respect and a 30-something year old woman can't just start screaming for mommy in the dentist's chair. But, oh how I wanted to! With shaking hands and a pounding heart, I explained that this procedure was a bit unexpected, and could I have a minute. After talking it over with my dentist, I realized this was probably the best way to not have any more nights like the night before, so I agreed and signed the papers that were needed. Within minutes the whole process was over, and my tooth was gone! It was all quite painless! I was surprised! I paid the bill, and headed off to work. I had no less than 5 people ask what I was doing there. I explained patiently, that my mother milked cows the day she had teeth pulled, and I come from hardy stock. Two hours into my shift, I realized that either the stock wasn't as hardy in the next generation, or my Novocaine was wearing off. A sub was found and after 2 hours of work, I was sent home to rest. As Ma Ingalls always said, "All's well that ends well." and I have come off my first traumatic dental visit with no extra phobias. I think. I have also learned that with Jesus and Ibuprofen, (in that order) I can handle most anything!

The In-laws are Visiting

Yesterday, September 23, was the day El Catracho and I drove into Washington DC to pick up his parents for their first visit ever to the United States. Anyone who is keeping up with current events, knows that Pope Francis had arrived the day before and is leaving the city today. I couldn't have timed that better if I had tried. Their plane wasn't getting in until 3 PM, and it's about a 3 hour drive to Washington but we decided to leave at 10 AM, the better to prepared for any holy delays. Wonder of wonders, it was a pretty uneventful trip and we arrived at the airport a whopping 2 hours early. Not enough time to go sightseeing, so we parked in short term parking and took a nap. Well, the man took a nap. I couldn't sleep. Too many people to watch! And so I watched. I saw an SUV pull up, and a couple get out. The girl wrapped a bejeweled black scarf around her head, and they headed into the airport. Two minutes later, he came back through the parking lot, talking on his cell phone and looking for someone or something. Apparently he found them or it, because I didn't see him again. A little later, his companion came by walking a slow leisurely pace, I saw her get into the passenger seat of a car she didn't drive in with and they drove off. "That was odd," I thought and continued watching people. A little while later, the same woman came from the direction of the airport, got into her SUV and drove off! At this point, I knew I had watched entirely too many crime dramas as I began to dream up all kind of nefarious situations that would explain the events that had just unfolded. As I was sharing my thoughts with the man who was trying to sleep, he opened one eye, and said, "Hmm that is interesting. oh look, it's after 2. Let's go inside and wait." I know when I'm being shut up. So we went inside, grabbed coffees, and checked out all the merchandise that said "I <3 Pope Francis" (I kid you not.) and sat down to people-watch again. There is no better place for this particular sport than an airport. Families waited outside the International Arrivals Building and as family members exited customs, happy laughs, some tears and much hugging took place. It was fascinating listening to the many languages. I could almost tell what people were saying by the expressions of happiness on their faces. We sat for about another hour, when our own happy reunion took place.  It is such a relief to have them here after so many disappointments while dealing with immigration, but that's another story. The trip back home was long, with lots of traffic and stopping and starting. We made it home although, I think my mother-in-law was starting to believe that this place called "Pennsylvania" was a myth and we lived in our car. After a long exhausting day, they had one more reunion as the children came home, and once more hugs and smiles abounded. Then it was early to bed, and Day One in the United States was over!

There was much to ponder as I lay in my own bed remembering the looks of wonder on their faces as we drove up to our house. My father-in-law was amazed by the yards and how green they were. It's September here in Pennsylvania, and I wanted to tell him he should see it in spring. We went into the house, and for the first time I saw my house through someone else's eyes. I didn't see the stained carpet and dark marks on the walls caused by sticky hands. Instead I saw walls and windows that don't let air or water inside. I saw a faucet that with a turn of the handle, we have all the water we could ever need, and still more. I saw a refrigerator and cupboards with enough food to last a few weeks. I saw my dishwasher that with a push of the button, my dishes are washed, and my washer that I load up before bed, and let it wash my clothes while I sleep. I saw my dryer that I load up the next morning and it dries my clothes while I go to work. Then I have the nerve to come home and wish someone would invent a clothes folder! I saw all these things and I felt ashamed. Not because I have them, but because maybe for the first time I truly saw what I have instead of what I don't have. I knew this visit would be a learning experience for all of us, and it seems my lessons have already begun. I love my little house in the development. It's not what I would have chosen for myself, but it's what I have, and it's more than enough. We are truly blessed beyond all we could ask or imagine.

Change....

I don't know anyone who can honestly say they love change. While some change is exciting like getting married or welcoming a new baby, other changes can be downright scary. We got the call last night that the only doctor that my children have ever seen passed away Saturday. Changing doctors, while a seemingly small change can be a scary thought. Especially when this particular doctor had sword fighting contests with little boys and talked Disney princesses with little girls. He came in calling each child by name, remembering the sport they played. He had so many patients but he always made this mama feel like her kids were the only ones. I remember the day our daughter was 5 months old and running a fever of 105. He took one look at her and told me to get her to the emergency room immediately. We spent the next two weeks in the hospital while they did tests and put her on a number of antibiotics. He saved her life that day, because I was too young and dumb to realize the slight fevers she had been running for a week and a half was actually a raging infection and not a side effect of teething.  He also was the kind of doctor that wouldn't prescribe antibiotics just to put your mind at ease. A source of frustration for me as a first time mom when I was sure my little baby was in the throes of his last breath, he informed me that it's just a cold, keep him hydrated and it will pass. He was right. And to this day, I think twice before giving my children cold medicine. He was also the doctor who sewed up our daughter after her run in with a neighbor's dog last spring. Something that struck me that day was that he treated her as though she was his own granddaughter. He was a professional but always treated us like his family. Maybe because he had watched the children grow through the years. He knew about their fears and their favorite things to do. His conversations with them covered everything from sports to where they wanted to go on vacation. Where some children dread doctor visits, my children looked forward to seeing Dr. Taylor and telling him about their latest accomplishments. The oldest even asked if he could invite Dr. Taylor to his 5th birthday party. You know you've made an impression as a doctor when they invite you to their birthday! Yes, the good doctor was a true family physician and he will be terribly missed, not only by our own family, but by families throughout the community.

This is Me

This is a new thing for me. I like writing, but I don't often let people see what I'm writing, because I don't like being that vulnerable. That said, I do like to share the fun stuff that happens in my life.  I am a mom of 3 and they are the cutest most adorable munchkins ever created. I am not exaggerating. I, however, am completely immune to their charms, and have been told I am the meanest mom in the world to which I replied, good, it means I'm doing my job right. I also teach preschool. I love it most days. I am learning so much about the way kids grow. Like the fact that a class of preschool girls is every bit as scary as the ninth grade girls you went to school with. I am convinced they don't become that way. They're born that way. On the flip side a class of all preschool boys will send you to the loony bin just as fast as the girls will. Hence the name of the blog. I have already gone around the bend, and I'm enjoying being crazy way more than being sane. El Catracho (a fantastic term that basically means The Honduran) also lives in this house around the bend. He thinks he's still sane, but he wouldn't still be here if he was. He's a very good musician and has musician friends over at times and they rock the house. I am expecting the police to be called some time, but so far our neighbors have been very nice and they put up with us. Between the music, the yelling (in English and Spanish) and the laughing, our house is rocking all the time. We live a simple, comfortable, crazy life that includes soccer games, gymnastics, homework, housework (when I can't get out of it) teaching work, and just everything in between. We are a bilingual bi-cultural family and that creates a lot of fun in itself. You bi-cultural mamas know what I'm talking about! We eat sleep and breathe soccer all the time. We cheer for Phillies baseball even though we know they'll probably lose. We love apple pie, fireworks on the fourth of July, tamales and torrejas at Christmas, and we eat rice and beans with turkey at Thanksgiving. I told you, we are not normal and we like it that way. Life is hard, but our faith and our humor keep us going. As the song says, "We were made to more than just survive, we were made to thrive." That's all for now, but I'll be back to share more about my life around the bend.