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or rather “crashed”. That’s what our computer has done. I’m thankful this is only the second time this has happened to us. And the first for this computer (that we’ve had for four years). I’m also thankful that Hubby has a friend from work who is, as we speak, pouring hours into trying fix it and prevent it from actually doing what it wants to do – which is dump everything it has on it’s hard drive. I’m also thankful for Hubby’s little laptop. It’s given me the ability to stay in contact with you all. Limited and slow it may be but I’m still here! =0)
Can you tell I’m working on being content? I am. So I won’t tell you that I’m not bemoaning the fact that I don’t have access to photoshop, I can’t download photos, I can’t burn a disk yet of family photos I took for a friend (sorry Tess!), I can’t touch up a photo and enter it into a display that is coming up in two weeks.
Nope. I won’t do it.
I’m trying to be content.
And I’m praying that Hubby’s friend will soon be my bestest friend in the whole world because he returns our computer to us, in full working order and with a contact hard drive. I’m praying HARD!
In the meantime, I’d like to thank everyone who left fabulous advice for me regarding Tiger’s little night terror incident a few weeks ago. I think almost everyone mentioned that missed nap times and changes to regular schedules were always behind their experience with night terrors. And guess what we did that day before Tiger’s terrors? Missed naps, were gone all day, and were camping. So yes, he missed his nap and yes, his surroundings were different than normal. BINGO! Now I know what to NOT do in the future. And should it happen again, while there were differing opinions on what to do during a terror, most affirmed what Hubby and I had done that night. Take him potty, comfort him as best as possible and talk to him until he wakes up.
Happy news in the Runningamuck Household? Well, first, there haven’t been anymore night terrors AND also, Tiger’s stopped sucking his thumb! Yeah!! Ladies, listen to your husbands. Mine has wanted to take Tiger’s blankie away from him for a while now (because his mouth has gotten so bad from thumb sucking) and I kept balking at the idea. Tiger only sucked his thumb when he had his blankie (which was whenever he was in bed) and as soon as he fell asleep, his thumb popped out and he slept without sucking it.
Well, Hubby took Tiger’s blanket away from him last week when I was out running errands and he was the one home putting everyone down for naps. Guess what? NO DRAMA! NO TEARS!! NOT EVEN DRAMA-FOR-MAMA later that night when it was ME putting him down to bed. It was amazing. He hasn’t asked for it, he hasn’t had trouble getting to sleep. And he hasn’t sucked his thumb.
I should never doubt you. =0)
Just like you tell me all the time.
And I scoff at your silly man-ideas.
Have I said I’m sorry? I am.
Oh! And one more thing… remember God blessing my silly little want (not need)? Well, He did it again. He blessed me with another gallon of Horizon Organic Milk this week. How amazing and loving is my Lord?!! I’m totally humbled. And Thankful.
How’s that for a smorgasbord of rambling? But you notice, I came full circle…
back to thankfulness! =0)
I’d just like to take the time to point out that it’s September ya’ll. SEPTEMBER!!!! Where has the year gone?!!
ANYWAY, this week’s WFMW is a backwards edition. It’s a week where I get to ask a question of YOU! And please, I need help on this one in a big way.
Night Terrors. If you want, read my little story about my recent (and very first) experience with them. My question is, what do YOU do when your little one(s) are in the middle of one? Wear ear plugs? Feed them? Sit them down in front of the tv? Hold them? Splash water on them? Read to them? Pray? (trust me, did lots of that one already) All of the above? Or none at all?
Help! I welcome any suggestions you have.
Be sure to check out Rocks In My Dryer for more mind-boggling questions that you just might have the answer to and therefore become a hero to an untold amount of struggling moms/women. Who can pass THAT up?!
but it’s late, I’m pooped out and I’m waiting on a Lemon Glaze cake to finish baking for tomorrow’s bbq.
And I exaggerate just a little, it’s not really 58 loads of laundry, it’s only 32. That’s what happens when you go “camping” (read, RV-ing) for 5 days with 5 other people… with trips to the beach (bathing suit crotches, short pockets and towels CHOCK FULL of sand. We’re still digging sand outta the Lil Blue’s ears), museums, and zoo. It takes me three days just to dig my way out of the laundry room.
But I am so, so thankful for great trips likes these as a family. Not to be grim so late at night but we are not promised tomorrow. No one is. And remembering that helps put a LOT of things in perspective. Like mountains of laundry. =0) Before I know it, the kids will be grown and moved away and it’ll be just Hubby and I in our RV. Now, don’t get me wrong, the extra space will be delightful. That and the lack of sand needing to be cleaned out of every seat cushion. But we’ll miss the days of chatter and silliness… and priceless moments like this:
While at the Museum of Natural History (fabulous by the way, we almost bought a yearly family pass), we had to get on the elevator so that we could see the next floor. Of course the kids clamored to be the one to push the buttons. Poppett pushed the outside button and when we loaded into the elevator, I told Monkey he could push the floor button.
Hubby chimed in, “DON’T push that red button, whatever you do” (the emergency stop button was really close to the floor buttons on this elevator).
The kids all looked at it. So I explained, “If you push it, it’ll make the elevator stop and the firemen will have to come get us out.”
Hubby adds, “And we’ll be stuck in here waiting for them to come open the doors for us. So whatever you do, DON’T PUSH THE RED BUTTON!”
“DON’T even think about it. At all. Not one bit.”
By now, I’m stifling my laughter because all four of the kids are staring, with rapt attention, at that little red button. You could almost hear the wheels spinning in their heads as they imagined what it would be like to push that button.
Hubby, “In fact, don’t even LOOK at the button. Look away. Right. Now. Don’t even think look at it.”
At this, Monkey immediately backs away from the buttons and stares at the floor, serious look firmly implanted on his face. He was falling for this hook, line and stinker sinker. And he tells his dad, “I’m not looking Dad”
Without batting an eye, Tiger pipes up from the other corner of the elevator, “I’m looking. I’m staring right at it Dad.” And he was. Right at it. And he continued to stare at the forbidden button until we reached our desired floor. We spent quite a bit of time on that floor. At least an hour. And when we loaded the elevator to ride it up to the next floor? Tiger informs his dad as soon he walks in, with a big ol smile on his face,
“Dad, I’m staring right at that button!” What a stinker! Hubby and I had to hold back the laughter. Tiger certainly didn’t need any encouragement from us.
Fast forward several hours to about 9pm that night. Same silly boy gave his mom her first taste of night terrors. I’ve NEVER experienced this before. And I hope we don’t have to go through it again. It was horrible, especially since Hubby had run off to the store to pick up some groceries we’d run out of. I was alone. In a crowded campground. With a child screaming bloody-murder while staring at me right in the face and shaking violently. And our “neighbors” were probably wondering if they should call the cops on the child abuse going on in the site next to theirs.
(sorry, it’s now 24hrs later… laundry is done, bbq is done and I’m stuffed to the gills on Lemon Glaze cake. Note to self: post recipe for Lemon Glaze cake… share the torture wealth of lemony calories that no one can resist. Now back to the story I was in the middle of telling…)
I had no idea what to do. He was screaming, literally at the top of his lungs, eyes popping out of their sockets, veins bulging in his neck and head and the emotional gaggy-pukes are hovering, just below the surface. I hate emotional gaggy-pukes. I try being stern and telling him to get ahold of himself. I confess, I even tried giving him a light fanny spank hoping it would startle him out of his “funk”. But when the phrase ” I WANT MY MOM!!” choke past his screams, I realize he can’t be awake. Not even a light sleep. He had to be deep in dreamland and I was helpless. I wanted to curl up in a little ball, cover my ears and suck my thumb. Instead, I try to tell him that I AM mom but nothing gets through. He soon starts screaming for dad and there I really couldn’t help him. Dad was unfortunately, no where within earshot. And I was worried that if I called him, he’d wreck the truck the instant he heard the terrified screams in the background (Tiger’s mind you, not mine. I was just barely keeping mine under control). So I calmly carried him back to his bed hoping the familiar surroundings (and his blankie) would soothe his terrified, confused soul. It didn’t. He’d calm down for a minute or two and then start the screaming (although this time with his blankie shoved in his mouth that, thankfully, muffled them) all over again. And still, his eyes bugged wide open.
Finally Hubby came home (during a quiet moment) and I quickly informed him of the happenings he’d missed out on. He replaced me at Tiger’s bedside and started talking quietly with him. Since we were in the trailer, there wasn’t room for me to be in the room too so I had to move away and couldn’t hear what was said. Whatever it was, it worked. Guess all that boy needed was his dad. Because soon I could hear his little voice (Tiger’s that is. Hubby’s voice isn’t so little) saying something calmly to his daddy. Tiger soon came out, needing a potty break and informed us that he’d been scared. We didn’t pressure him over what. And the rest of the night was peaceful. Thank you Lord.
The next morning, thinking he wouldn’t remember a thing, I asked him about it. He informed me:
“I was crying because I was scared of the dinosaurs.”
Me:”You mean the dinosaurs we saw at the museum?” (Tiger nods his head) “You know those are all dead right? There aren’t any dinosaurs alive anywhere. Those dinosaurs we saw were all pretend.”
Tiger:”I know Mom. But remember when we saw the dinosaur eggs? And you could spin the wheel and some of the eggs moved and a baby dinosaur stuck his head out of one of them?” (my turn to nod my head) “yeah, it moved Mom”.
Apparently, the fake eggs, that lay under the fakemommy dino, that moved only when you turned a big wheel (that Tiger loved turning all on his own), that had one teeny baby dinosaur stick his head in and out of was the source of those horrific screams the night before. Not the big ol mama dino. Nope. The teeny baby one that you could only see the head of…
Not this one
or even this one
Or even this big mama one. No, it’s down below her. You can’t even really see but there are a bunch of eggs at her feet. And yes, those are the cause.
I’ve never so thankful to turn down a yearly pass before in my life.