Neeley Corner

I've been having this "dream" lately, and have felt like I should share it. The interpretation of which has been deep and rich and personal (so I hope you will understand my keeping it personal), but perhaps this dream is meant to be shared with some of you...

I am standing in a white emptiness, right before me water is slowing dripping, like from a badly leaking faucet, the source of the water I cannot see.
In my hand I am holding a little dixie cup.  I put my arm out before me to start catching the water, and soon, my little paper dixie cup is full. I bring the cup back to myself and drink.  It is clear and clean and delicious pure water.  I am thirsty and desire more.
I put my cup out again, and the water is beginning to come down more readily, like the tap has been turned on at a moderate size.  I barely notice that I must now fully extend my arm to reach the water flow. My cup, now a small teacup, is filled quickly to overflowing and as the water starts splashing out, I pull the cup back to myself and drink quickly. 
The water is coming down more quickly, like a kitchen sink tap opened fully. I reach my teacup forward, but the water is coming down heavily.  Most of it splashes out of my teacup.  It gets my hand wet, my shirt, I pull my cup back. It isn't full, and I've gotten wet, but I drink it anyway, and try again to receive more water. I am no more successful that the previous attempt.  Water is splashing everywhere and my cup cannot hold the water. There is so much, and yet, I can hardly collect any with my cup that I keep stretching out and trying to keep, but it never fills my cup.
I realize, I need a larger glass. And I look, now I am holding a large dinner glass.  I fill it almost to the rim when it begins to overflow before pulling it back to myself. I begin to drink, slowly and casually, watching the water begin to come down more forcefully, like out of a water hose a few steps out from before me, I am content to drink my larger glass of water, until I recognize it is almost empty.
I must walk forward a few paces to collect more water in my cup.  It is again difficult to fill the cup due to the force and abundance of water pouring down.  I don't fill the cup fully.  I'm scared of dropping the cup.  I'm scared of getting wet. I'm scared of spilling the water.
I am standing alone holding my cup that  is beginning to crack.  I look up again and see water gushing down as out of a fire-hose just a few more paces ahead of me. And far in the distance, I can just make out a waterfall and a large expanse of great water.

Also, a personal note, when I had this dream, I was diffusing Sandalwood essential oil. If you would like to know more about Sandalwood, or essential oils, check out my blog that chronicles my experiences using essential oils at eolearning.blogspot.com.

I've been making the effort to wake up early and workout the past week and a half. It has made a huge difference in my attitude throughout the day. For example, while trying to clean the kitchen today, my daughters ransacked the fridge and destroyed the dining room. While trying to sort dirty laundry and put a load in the washer, the children threw all the clean laundry on the floor. And instead of getting angry, I took a minute to breathe, pray, and either find a way for them to help our distract them. I was also more receptive to inspiration/revelation that perhaps my kids are making the mess to get my attention because I've been focusing on cleaning and helping Brad Neeley (healing from foot surgery), and not on paying with them. I'm feeling overwhelmed with everything that needs to be done, but instead of feeling depressed and defeated, I know I can do it. Thank you, heavenly Father!

This isn't much of a blog post, I know. But a few friends have noticed that I haven't posted much lately, so I'm trying, but my posts are more like a quick thought while I'm feeding the baby. This was what I wanted to remember today in case I ever need to remember why an early morning workout is so important to me.

Year of Learning Dangerously (Quinn Cummings)
Unschooling Handbook (Mary Griffith)
Homeschooling Handbook (Mary Griffith)
Real Life Homeschooling: Stories of 21 Families Making It Work (Rhonda Barfield)
Dumbing Us Down: the hidden curriculum of compulsory schooling (John Taylor Gatto)
How Children Learn (John Holt)
Divergent (Veronica Roth) *audiobook
Alligent (Veronica Roth) *audiobook, unfinished
The Ultimate Guide to Homeschooling (Debra Bell) *unfinished
Moon Over Manifest (Clare Vanderpoole) *unfinished
The Hurried Child (David Elkind) *in progress
A Different Kind of Teacher: Solving the Crisis of American Education (John Taylor Gatto) *in progress
Story of the World, Volume 1 Ancient Times (Susan Wise Bauer) *audiobook, in progress

I might be a homeschool nerd?  Can you tell? I need some more non-fiction on this list!
What are you reading?

Samson is a happy baby.

Ruthe is obsessed with minions from Dispicable Me.  All minions known as "Bob." She's talking more, but leaves off the first syllable of most words, and invents many of her own.  some words are unmistakigly and perfectly enunciated, such as "yes" and "NO!" See translation guide below:
olo = water
oso = cereal
ik = milk
olor = i want to color a picture, give me crayons, etc.
ore = more
eese/peese = please
"ore oso peese" = more cereal please
tih = vitamin
ishy or ish-ish = fish
air = prayer

Naomi is my big girl 4 year old.  Man how time flies!

Our little man made a surprising and FAST entry into the world! The short story goes something like this: I woke up shortly after 4am having contractions, before waking Brad at 4:45am.  He packed the bags frantically, called friends to watch our girls, and got everything in the car by 6am when I informed him that I thought it was time to push.  We sped to the nearest hospital ER, was raced to labor and delivery, and was holding my beautiful baby boy by 6:30am.  yeah... it was that fast.

Many have commented on how "easy" and "nice" it must have been to have such a short labor.  And if 2 1/2 hours of intense labor is "nice," then I guess they are right.  I gotta admit though, I've really had to spend some quality time contemplating this birth experience to find peace.  When I try to tell the story with details, I still notice my heart starts racing, my breathing becomes rapid, I feel tense and anxious. So it's taking me some time to actually want to write the story.  At the same time, I'm sure doing so will help.

I'll preface this with-- baby Samson and I are both doing well. As far as all things physically concerned, we are perfectly healthy and the delivery, while exciting (?), was actually smooth and perfect. No complications.

Brad and I had been praying and trying every old wives tale we knew to encourage our little boy (who was officially due Jan 9) to come in December.  The biggest reasons were so Brad would be on holiday vacation from work and could stay home for a few days to help out without using all his vacation days at the beginning of the year, Brad's mom would be on winter break (she's a teacher) and could help out, we had already met our high deductible for insurance for 2013, etc. The hospital and my OB wouldn't consider an induction for those reasons before Jan 2, and I really hate pitocin and didn't want to be medically induced anyway. I had been taking evening primrose oil and drinking mother's milk tea for a couple weeks.  At my 38 week appointment (Friday. Dec 27), the OB checked me and informed me I was 3 cm and 50% effaced.  This was disheartening because I was that far along with my previous 2 girls at 37 weeks, and they were born 1 day late (being induced) and 1 day early (spontaneous). I was pretty convinced my little boy would be born after his due date at this point. I may have cried on my way home from my appointment that day, but by the time I got home had prayed and felt peace about the situation.  Everything would work out, even if I didn't know HOW. We went to Brad's family's that evening for his cousin's wedding reception and 10 year high school reunion and had fun.

Saturday, Dec 28 we came back home and worked on cleaning the house from Christmas and making our list of things to finish before Samson was born, and sorting baby clothes we'd received from friends.  that evening we decided that I would try castor oil.  I had spent HOURS researching it, asking friends, reading personal stories of those who had tried it and contemplating the pros/cons. I had decided that I wouldn't even try it if I wasn't already AT LEAST 3cm and 50% effaced (funny, that's exactly what I was...); my body had to be already preparing and ready for labor to consider taking it.  And I even mentally prepared myself for what many people said castor oil does-- cleans you out. a lot. I took 1 1/2 Tbsp at 3pm on Saturday, Dec 28.  And waited for my date with the bathroom... and waited... and waited.  Took a relaxing bath... By 12:30am, I went to bed with nothing happening.

Sunday, Dec 29 I woke up to get ready for church and thought I was having contractions.  Brad recommended I time them, even though I told him they didn't feel strong, consistant, or regular, and I had no other signs of labor starting (this may be TMI for some... no loss of mucus plug, no bloody show, no water breaking, etc.).  They were coming roughly 8-6 minutes apart. So we went to church and decided that if they got closer, stronger, or I had any other signs of labor, I'd call the dr.  At church, if I was up and walking contractions were every 6 minutes; if I was sitting they could vary between 12-24 minutes. And they were seriously mild.  Half the time I sat there wondering if I was having a contraction, or if I just had gas. A couple were stronger and distracted me (while conducting music in Primary I'd have to stop singing but I could keep conducting... the kids didn't notice, but one of the teachers did).  We went home and I tried climbing stairs for a while-- contractions got to be 4 minutes apart, and then just got tired and decided to take a nap around 4pm.  When I woke up, all contractions had stopped and nothing could seem to get them started again.  Brad and I knew that I'd have to go into labor by the 29th to have a December baby, and well, the day was almost over. After dinner Brad somehow had talked me into trying castor oil again... something along the lines of "it didn't do anything last time so what can it hurt" and "this is the last chance; the worst that could happen is you spend some time on the toilet and don't get a baby, which you had already psyched yourself up for anyway, so what's the difference" and "it could still work... maybe." So at 7:30pm I took 2 Tbsp castor oil and waited for another date with the bathroom.  We ate some of our Christmas candy, talked, planned to start our "baby prep" list in the morning.  Around midnight I took an hour-long relaxing bath with essential oils.  At 1am, it seemed the castor oil decided to do it's job of cleaning out my bowels. Not terrible, not pleasant, just a fact.  By 1:30am I was in bed reading and hoping for contractions/waiting to see if I needed a 2nd bathroom date. I fell asleep around 2:30am after a very uneventful hour of reading.

Monday Dec 30 I woke up shortly after 4am.  Not unusual... I wake up middle of the night all the time.  I felt uncomfortable so I moved around.  Got uncomfortable, so I moved some more. After 8-10 minutes of tossing and turning, I get up to go to the bathroom.  Come back to bed and think, "are these contractions?" (remember, I'm in a sleep fog after only 1 1/2 hours of sleep...) so i try to time them, but I'm dozing off in between and keep forgetting when I had the last one until they start getting strong and I want Brad to start applying counter pressure to my back.  At 4:45am I start trying to wake up Brad to rub my back; he whines about me poking him until I tell him I'm having contractions. He quickly perks up at that point and asks how often.  "I don't know... every few minutes, I guess." So he grabs pen and paper to start timing.  We realize by 5am that it's every 2 minutes, and they are getting pretty strong.  CRUD.

Brad frantically begins throwing together the hospital bag (it had been packed, but we unpacked it on friday for spending the night at his parents' house and planned to repack that day) and a bag for the girls to stay with friends while I had the baby. He wakes the girls while I go potty before we leaving. I notice that I finally lose the mucus plug and have "bloody show" and I think-- "hey, I really might have a baby today... this means it's real labor!" (somehow strong contractions every 2 minutes didn't clue me in??? i must have been tired!) As I stood up, my water broke.  (Seriously... how lucky is that?! no mess!) By 6am, everything and the girls are in the car ready to go; I'm laying on the floor of the bedroom crying and wanting Brad with me to support me through contractions but I know he can't. He's busy trying to get us to the hospital.

Brad finds me and we start downstairs to the car, at which point I tell Brad, "I don't think we'll make it to Canton.  We need to go to Alliance." He says ok. We were going to drop the girls at a friend's house, but next contraction as we are pulling out of the driveway, I announce, "I think I need to push..." Brad FLOORS the gas and we start speeding to the nearest hospital (about 1.5 miles away) and calming repeating, "don't push! we're almost there." We squeal into the ER bay; Brad runs in yelling, "My wife needs to push!" and a nurse runs out with a wheelchair and rushes me to labor & delivery. The L&D nurses are madly prepping a room as I get wheeled in and they begin reminding me, "don't push, the dr is on his way. try not to push. you're doing great. keep breathing." I started crying and wondering where Brad was and wanting to push and trying not to.  I just wanted Brad by my side so badly.  One of the nurses let me hold her hand and was really great... but she wasn't Brad, who was about to miss the birth of his son and I felt alone and vulnerable.

Brad runs in 5 minutes later. (After I was whisked away, he parked the car and brought the girls up with him, who were missing their shoes and it was snowing. He left them in the hallway outside my door with a nurse.) He's finally holding my hand and everything seems better, though my body is starting to push and I can't stop it anymore. The dr walks in a couple minutes later, and I'm finally encouraged to push.  Samson is born 2 pushes/1 contraction later at 6:30am on Monday, December 30, 2013. He weighed 7 lbs 13 oz, and was 20 inches long. His APGAR scores were 9 both times. A perfectly healthy little boy!
 We came home the next evening and I enjoyed New Years Eve snuggling with my little boy at home. :-)

From our 5 year Anniversary trip to D.C. in May 2013

I love my kids.  With all my heart. Always.

But some days I don't like being a mom very much... Raising a 3 year old and 18 months old while 8+ months pregnant is ... ?... exhausting just isn't a strong enough word to convey how tired I feel emotionally and physically.

Today is testing my limits. It's an ugly mom day. As I type this, I hear my daughters upstairs pulling the dresser drawers out and throwing their clothes all over their bedroom, crying and occasionally banging on the door.  But I'm not going to go upstairs and stop them right now because I've had enough moments of walking into a destroyed room today. Today... the day before our housewarming party.

I just wanted to clean and decorate for Christmas so our home felt warm and festive for our friends and guests tomorrow, and because I just love a warm and festive home for Christmas.  Today the universe, or maybe just my children, have decided to make that goal as impossible as they can.

Ruthe woke up with a leaking diaper. No big deal.  New diaper, wipe the baby, throw pajamas in the wash, put on clothes for the day.
Have breakfast-- we go with yogurt, and I tell the kids to finish up while I go try and trade out dishes from the dishwasher and clean last nights pots and pans that I left soaking.  Naomi cleans up fine, Ruthe washes the table and her hair with yogurt, and gets it all over her clothes. Again.  Ugh... change Ruthe's clothes again, wipe her down again. Go to school room, read a couple stories, tell kids to play puzzles and "read" while I clean the kitchen.

While cleaning kitchen, hear lots of thuds and falling, followed by crying.  All the books are on the floor. No one hurt, just startled. Every puzzle piece is mixed together in a giant pile in the middle of the room, our puzzles plus the library puzzles we have checked out. Along with some other library toys.  (I have paid too much in fines for losing library toy parts due "incidents" just like this that I don't take care of right away, so I MUST clean this up ASAP and count every piece of every puzzle and toy.) I ask the kids to help, but they keep taking apart the puzzles I'm checking the pieces for, so I send them to their room.

They don't go to their room.  They go to the kitchen because, apparently, they want more yogurt.  Refrigerator and floor of kitchen get "mopped" with yogurt, and kids recycle the yogurt as shampoo.  Yell.

Take kids to bathroom and tell them to get undressed while I wipe up the excess yogurt.  Just damage control; I will have to mop and wipe clean later, but for now I don't want massive dried yogurt all over the place.  Return to bathroom for mid-day bathtime, and half the toilet paper is shredded and sticking to my yogurt covered Ruthe.

Baths.
Lock clean, dried, clothed children in bedroom and tell them it's nap time.

Go downstairs and cry.
Write therapeutic blog entry about ugly mom day.
Re-read said blog post.
Laugh.
Regret not taking a picture.
Publish blog post.

To Do Next
Pray.
Go apologize to screaming children banging on their bedroom door for locking them in their room, and help them clean their room. Give hugs and kisses and remember that I really do love them.

A mother's work is messy and never ends.

Did you know that October 9-15 this year is considered National Baby Loss Awareness Week?
I just found out a little bit ago.

Secret: I've been terrified most of my current pregnancy that I will lose my little boy... (maybe this is totally normal? there's a few reason's why, but posting them here seems inappropriate because it will only make me rant about a pet peeve, and that's not what I want to do in this post.)

I've never suffered the pain of miscarriage or losing a baby, and I hope I never do.
I don't/can't fully understand losing a baby, but ... I just wanted to make a small post in memory of those dear little ones and honoring my friends and family who've had to go through losing a baby. I have had so many friends who have suffered this loss recently, and my heart breaks for them. I won't share their names because I know it's incredibly personal, but I have cried for each of them when they've opened up to me about it.

To my friends and family who have lost a little one, I'm thinking of you this week.  You are in my thoughts and prayers, this week and often. You and your little ones are so loved.

We've started a new tradition in the Neeley House-- Pajama Monday!

ok, ok, so Pajama Monday is really just accepting the fact that the kids and I often don't get out of our jammies on Monday... but now, we're making it an official tradition because we are combining it with Breakfast for Dinner Day (which used to be any night when I didn't feel like making a big dinner).

So now, Mondays are Officially Pajama Monday.  We wear our pj's all day, eat breakfast food for dinner, and may or may not make blanket forts in the living room to read in for story time. :-)

From pajama day last week while making pumpkin lanterns.

Since starting homeschool for Munchkin, I've fiddled and read about a million different ways to organize the school day/week/month/etc.

For now, Fridays are our "fun days."   Which means we play games all day: Memory, Candy Land, Go Fish, Uno is in our collection right now, but I'm hoping that expands quickly (to get list: Yahtzee, Shoots and Ladders, Connect 4.... any other suggestions?) Or we go to the park, or play tic-tac-toe in the driveway with sidewalk chalk.

(Though after reading "The Unschooling Handbook" (by Mary Griffith), I'm beginning to wonder if any day really needs the designation "fun day" outside of "real learning school days." More of my thoughts on this are forthcoming in another blog post where I review the handbook and my developing thoughts on the unschooling philosophy.)