Checking in

Roy says my blog has been inactive recently, which is true. Mostly that’s because I’ve been reading in my spare time instead of writing. And usually the times I think about blogging I’m up to my ears in little boys. But it’s one of those late nights when he’s gone at a performance and sleep isn’t coming quickly, so here goes nothing.

Imprisonment

I just finished watching a documentary on eating disorder recovery. Talk about sobering. I think most women in our country would be lying if they said they hadn’t brushed up against debilitating body image issues--if not personally, then via friend or family. This documentary was heartbreaking, as young women in a rehabilitation community wrestled with wanting, or worse, not wanting to get better. The deeper-lying issues of insecurity, seeming lack of control, substance abuse, and family dynamics all played in heavily. It was gut-wrenching watching a 15 year old girl, who was working through the complexities of her bulimia, sit next to her mother on a family visit and watch her mom pick over her own meal, choosing highly specific bites of food off the plate. You watched and knew that, even if this teen made great strides in rehab, her hill would be steep upon reentry. The end of the documentary concluded with “where are they now”—of the four females profiled, all had lost significant weight upon leaving the rehabilitation facility. One had attempted suicide and one passed away due to complications from bulimia.

Psychiatrists, psychologists, nutritionists, counselors, nurses, and therapists all did their darndest to get through to these women, but by and large they were talking to brick walls. I put a lot of stock in modern medicine and the intelligence of mankind, but the whole time I had a heightened awareness of the need for a Savior. Those girls needed help and healing beyond anything others could offer them. They needed restoration. Lord, would you be near and give us your eyes and ears?

The Gamer

While his father’s son in almost every way, James likes games. YAY! It seems his deep-seated predilection for rules, order, routine, and repetition lends itself well to board games. He was given Trouble for Christmas from my aunt (comes with 17 Minion game pieces!) and we play at least three times a day. I have won maybe three times since Christmas. This is challenging for me, as winning is something to which I am accustomed. (I think the die is cursed.) Still, it’s a nice change from reading Curious George and Richard Scarry, so I jump at the chance for some variety. I picked up Chutes and Ladders today and attempted to teach James the finer points of ascending 100 spaces. He only wanted to go down the slides I’m afraid, and the technique of moving the game piece through the rows was confusing. We’ll keep working on it. And then I’ll get repeatedly thrashed.

Pain Over Solitude

Owen had blood drawn today as a follow-up to his recent food allergy diagnosis. I took him to the lab near where we used to live in Brighton. The actual location is kind of creepy—you have to walk through what feels like a deserted locker room to get to the office, but the lady who works there is kind and gets the vein the first time every time. We set up in the waiting room and it took Owen all of 3 seconds to decide that he wanted to explore. Fine, except that the door to the patient/tech area was wide open with a big sign that said in effect, “EVEN THOUGH THIS DOOR IS OPEN AND YOU ARE THE ONLY ONES HERE YOU ARE NOT WELCOME UNTIL WE SPECIFICALLY ASK FOR YOU. THERE ARE DONUTS AND WE DON’T SHARE.”

I may be slightly exaggerating. Anyway, I had to rescue Owen from exploring the nether region of the locker room lab and he was not happy about it. He’s got a temper, that one, and as I scooped him up and returned to the seat he bucked and kicked and howled. I grabbed my phone and dialed up Elmo (he seems to like Elmo…I don’t think I love Elmo but it’s different than George so I love Elmo). Elmo wasn't helpful. (Never mind. I don’t love Elmo.) He wriggled off my lap and made a beeline for the open door again. Just as I caught him and braced myself for more dolphin kicks the lab tech invited us back. Owen immediately grinned and ran through the door, following the lab tech to the assigned room. I figured if he knew what was coming he wouldn’t have been quite so excited. Wrong-o. I sat with him in the chair while the tech pulled up his sleeve, located a vein, applied an elastic above his elbow, and drew three vials of blood (which took a couple of minutes). He was enraptured. I’m not quite sure he’s ever sat so still. He made eyes at the tech and her assistant and watched the needle and tube the entire time. (I peeked once or twice but mostly looked away…add needles to the raw egg/frying food list.)

So I’m pretty sure he’ll go into medicine and support his stupid musician parents in their old age.

Yesssssssss. <fist pump>

The Scholar

Roy may not mention this on his blog and he definitely won’t put it on Facebook, so I will here. Today my husband completed a lengthy project of reading and translating the entire Iliad from its original Greek. For those of you with little understanding of this accomplishment (ummm…I was in your boat until this afternoon, so don’t feel badly) the Iliad is in 24 volumes. He started in 2011 and he said it took him most of a year to translate the first volume. His speed has, quite literally, increased tenfold over the past four years. I am so proud of him and blown away by his diligence and discipline. I am also selfishly excited because this means he’ll have more time (theoretically) to learn his newest language: French. (In his own words: “The vocab is super easy. It’s just a bunch of Latin spelled wrong.”) Our passports came in the mail this week and we are dreaming of Parie…

Today’s 1%:

11/50: The Blind Side. A great book and the movie stuck to it quite closely. I’m for the Broncos on Sunday but I’ll be watching Cam Newton’s blind side with a little extra interest.

12/50: The Midwife’s Apprentice. Juvenile historical fiction. A quick read that told me, once and for all, that I need to be done reading about midwives for a while. I am thankful for modern medicine.