mikenpeg's Xanga

Holidays and Happenings...

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:15:22 GMT

Thanksgiving week and Miguel's birthday will always coincide... he was born the 27th of November. Last year it was on Thanksgiving; this year, the day after. We were gathered at Mike's bro. Dannie's house for Thanksgiving, where Mom and Dad Erb are staying. ( Dannie and Marilyn are in the Philippines for some medical certification training program that will allow Dannie to practice medicine in Third World countries. ) There were large amounts of great food like turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry salad, and pumpkin cheesecake. We went shopping on Black Friday, a little, and got a trike for Miguel's second birthday. He is hardly strong/old enough to drive it properly, but he kills himself trying.

The long hair was just too much too take... we put it off as long as we could, since Miguel raised cane those few times we trimmed it down. Finally, we decided to bite the bullet and take him to a hairdresser-- speed seemed to be the crucial factor... I fully expected at least moderate cane-raising even there, but to my surprise, Miguel sat as still as a mouse on the kid chair, watched Dora on the screen in front of him, and seemed mildly amused at the strange lady clipping his hair. Wow. Was he fascinated or intimidated? I debated disguising myself and trying it again next time, but... maybe I'll just let the hair grow to Beatles length again, and take him back to the hairdresser.
A haircut makes him look 6 months older.

We've been doing some Christmas decorations, and after Mike checked out the fireplace and reported it squeaky clean, we threw some wood in and have been charmed ever since. The few times we have it going, all I want to do is sit in front of it, sip tea, listen to a Christmas CD, and be incredibly nostalgic. I'm only 26- is it permissible to be nostalgic when you cannot recall life prior to the late 80's?

We have one more thing to be thankful for, as well as come up with creative ways to deal with. We're going to be parents for the second time, next summer. I was hoping and praying that I would not get sick like I did with Miguel's pregnancy... but I am. Not as bad, and it feels like I am a bit better equipped to deal with it, but still... throwing up every other day and spending about 50 percent of my time on the couch fighting nausea is really killing the holiday spirit within me. I continue to pray that I am granted fortitude... with Miguel, I ended up suffering months of depression and discouragement. I did determine to be a little more vocal about it this time, and asking my friends to help/encourage me. The last time, I really tried to hide/deny the depression, even though my husband begged me to see a doctor, get on meds temporarily, SOMETHING! It isn't worth whatever pride you think you salvage to battle the darkness of discouragement for weeks and months; wishing you could disappear in a hole and die so the endless nausea would stop. Part of my difficulty with Miguel's pregnancy came from Mike and I having just left the Amish, buckling under disapproval from my Amish family, (thankfully, Mike's parent had also left, and were a huge support) getting accustomed to a new church, new friends, a new culture, actually- then pregnancy on top of that. So.... I think it will be easier this time, come what may.
The creative ways of dealing with the morning sickness... or any-time-of-day sickness?? My midwife told me last time around that I had low blood sugar, which was spiking my nausea. I had to eat... often. Eat, when you want to puke? Yes. So, often in the morning, Mike will get up for work at 5:30, and if I feel sick, he hurries out to the kitchen to make toast. Two pieces of buttered toast usually tames my stomach. Or, sometimes it sends me packing to the bathroom to throw it overboard. Either way, I feel much better for a couple hours. Sometimes a little humor works... jokes about going sailing since I'm seasick all the time anyway, envisioning the worst scenarios and events in which to be sick. It doesn't cure anything, but a laugh makes anything more bearable. Tonight, I was too sick to do anything but fantasize about blueberries... so Mike kindly ran to the nearby grocery store to get some blueberries. (Read: not in season, not cheap!) He returned with not only the desired food, but half a dozen roses. Way to quench the queasies AND score BIIIIIG points with your wife. It takes a real man to bring flowers home to a woman who is pale, moaning, huddled under a blanket... and may very well need to have her hair held back for retching in the next 10 minutes.
That's my husband. Not a big romantic, not lavish with words, flowers, and such-like, but knows how to warm the heart at the perfect times. Neither of us quite envisioned this scenario (not sure why not) of the trials of marriage when we were dating, but I dare say those roses tonight meant more than any tender glances, words and flowers that I received before I weathered a few storms, arguments, crises, and public parking-lot pregnant pukings with the very resilient love of my life....

Again...

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 19:52:42 GMT

...the Jehovah's Witnesses are back. I had purposed to tell them not to come again, and actually tried to do so. They wanted to know why, and why I disagreed with them. We batted back and forth on a few issues such as the deity of Christ and eternal life/death. I was pretty much fed up, and was ready to just show them the door, when we hit on the subject of the foreknowledge of God. I didn't know that they do not believe that God knows the events of the future as well as the past, except in such 'selective' times as the coming of the Messiah, etc.
So, being the sucker that I am for debate, I went back on my resolve, and told them they may come back one more time...to further discuss this thing of foreknowledge. I have spent time in the Bible this afternoon, and am only more convinced in my belief that God knows everything about my life and the lives of others, as well as having control and knowledge of the world at large- in advance. This should be interesting.

And after that- ugh. They will have to go, and not bother me anymore. As a busy mom, and aspiring to walk closer to God, I have better things to do than spend hours debating with people who will not convince me nor be convinced by me. These 'witnesses' feel that "angels were sending them" to me, (hmmmm...admittance of divine foreknowledge, right there!) whereas, privately, I feel they were sent to my door so that I may be solidified in what I believe. That's definitely what's happening!

If you have any advice to offer, any references that may help, please comment. You'll probably come up with the same Scriptures I thought of and referenced, but I welcome any new ground I may not have uncovered...

Renovation Thoughts

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 22:39:11 GMT

You are not responsible for the crazy thoughts you get while renovating....

"I wonder if the idea of using drywall dust and plaster pieces for decor could start a trend."
"If my son is electrocuted while poking his finger in an exposed receptacle, would we go to jail?"
"Paint color samples make great bookmarkers. I don't have time to read, though. Could I sell them on e-bay?
"My husband is really attractive with spiderwebs hanging on his shoulders and hair... in a kinda spooky way."
"No, we're not playing African drums over here. That's us pounding out the trim."
"Mounting flashlights from odd corners to shine on our work areas at 10:00 PM... our version of being in the spotlight."
"I wonder what would happen if I would call the police anonymously and say that I think there are dead bodies wrapped in blankets in a garage at 10971 Cutter Rd... only to have the police find pet-urine-soaked rolls of carpeting?"
"Sitting on sharp tools that are buried in the couch is cruel and unusual punishment. If I ever want a divorce, there are my grounds."
"I think we should be on reality TV. What could be better than having me moon the camera falling off a ladder?"
"If I show up in church with paint on my nose, is that considered makeup?"
"Our love-language right now is 'Let's go to Home Depot.' Maybe we could book a night there for our anniversary."
"Wonder what they call holding a paint roller in one hand, clamping a wet putty knife in my teeth, and fixing a bottle with the other hand. Tridextrous?
"To the neighbors: no, we're not having a domestic dispute. I'm in the kitchen discussing the finances with my husband in the attic. Sometimes yelling IS communicating."
"My husband can't run a paint roller. I AM the superior gender!'...
..."I have no idea what a three way switch is, though. Back to subordinate gender."
"Sorry if I come visit you and no longer look in your eyes when you talk. I'm busy trying to decide if your floor is laminate or hardwood, maple or walnut, Mohawk or Pergo."
"I feel so empowered. I can name 10 shades of white."
"Sometimes throwing away a 5 dollar paintbrush after slathering oil base paint is easier to bear than smelling like gasoline at the dinner table."
"Do It Yourself" is an incorrect phrase. By completion of your project, every employee of Sherwin Williams, Home Depot, and Builder's Supply knows you by name. First name."
"I suppose dreams that show me in heaven renovating the pearly gates have no significance... or do they?"

So...

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 01:33:04 GMT

the Jehovah's witnesses never came back. Maybe it was because we moved. Maybe it was because I asked questions they didn't like. At any rate, I'm relieved. If they do track me down, I'll be holding a paint roller in one hand and a can of paint in the other. Unless they want to be renovated, they can leave.

Jehovah's Witnesses...

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 23:14:31 GMT

For a couple weeks now, two Jehovah's Witness ladies have been coming to my door. At first, I was like, sure, I'll speak with you. Next it was, "Mind if we come in a bit?", which I allowed because I didn't think I would forbid two nice ladies entrance simply because of their beliefs. We found common ground on a few basic issues, such as the creation by the word of God, good intentions of God toward His people, the presence of sin in the world, etc. Then, gradually, a few other things crept in- and I can no longer agree with them. Not only that, I have researched them and found some pretty shocking discoveries about their beliefs, not to mention the fact that the one lady told me some untruths about the Watchtower Society; probably not intentionally, but because Witnesses are fed a lot of propaganda and told to accept the leader's interpretation as truth. In fact, they do not believe that the Scriptures in themselves are sufficient to guide people; they must be accompanied by Watchtower study helps. Above all, they do not accept translations other than their own, the New World Translation; which has been translated and written since the 1950s by less-than-credible 'scholars'.
They will be coming again next week, and have requested the new address of where we are moving to. I am planning on declining that request, telling them I do not wish to further discuss these things with them since we are not going to agree anyway, and ask them to please refrain from making attempts to contact me. If they persist, I plan to present them with some of my findings on their beliefs.
I would appreciate any input from any of you who may have had dealings with Watchtower people on this level, and some advice on effective ways of, well, simply put, getting rid of them! I prefer something quick and painless- I am very busy with this moving/renovating stuff, and do not have time to stand around arguing all day. I also request prayer- I'm pretty nervous about it, since I have never before asked someone to leave my house. Any stories or recommendations from you would be great. Thanks!
I will report back....

Nostalgia...

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 18:05:50 GMT

So, we're moving. So we're entering the so-called American dream of owning a nice little house in the suburbs and kneeling at the lending bank's shrine for the next 10 years. So we have all kinds of renovation plans, expanding-the-family-a- little plans, getting-out-of-debt plans, finishing-college- maybe-getting-a-job plans, rent-out-the-house-and-go-

do-VS-work-for-a-year-or-two plans, take-that-trip-to-Europe plans, grow-old-together plans. All those things may or may not happen. Certainly, this is a planned occasion; one I am prepared for- but with our moving date three weeks away, I'm getting a serious nostalgia moment.
We're leaving a humble little mobile home that's out in the sticks on a dirt road. We're leaving something we paid little for and paid off soon; something that has weeds along the driveway, some serious mold and occasional bats in the enclosed back porch, and a roof that needs to be replaced soon. We're leaving something that prestigious real estate agents in Erie and Pittsburgh would barely look at; something we could never in our wildest dreams get in a magazine or on a postcard.
Okay, so why the nostalgia? Why the faint little lump-in-the-throat feeling when trying to picture pulling out of this driveway for the last time?
I'll tell you why. It's because this is where the dream started.
It is where we brought the pieces of furniture to, one by one, in those thrilling pre-marriage days. It is where Mike and I came home to on that April evening after our wedding as the setting sun filtered through the newly leafed trees behind the house. It is where we spent that first golden summer together as newlyweds, where we ate our first meal, paid our first electric bill, planted our first garden, had our first fight. It is where we excitedly watched the pregnancy test show positive, it is where I carried our firstborn underneath my heart as Mike trotted out the puke basin for the first 4 1/2 months and the strange foods I craved the next 4 1/2, it is the place we brought our son home to when he was a little, red-faced handful barely 12 hours old. It is where we paced the nursery at night, where we staggered around making coffee the next morning to get through the day. It is where our baby first smiled, first laughed, first cut a tooth... and then crawled, walked, and learned to say Mama and Daddy right along with stuffing food in our shoes and toys in the toilet. It is where we spent Friday nights curled up with a bowl of popcorn and a good movie. It is where we prepared meals for dinner guests, where we had friends and family for parties that lasted till midnight. It is where we shoveled mountains of snow in the winter and leaves in the fall, where we listened to the rain falling on the roof. It is where we laughed, cried, worked, played, ate, slept, kicked back. It is where we lived and loved.
That's why the nostalgia hits hard. This is where the Erb family had its beginning, and forever after, we will drive past this place with our children, point, and say 'Hey, that's where we started out.' If a family is not just a house, but a home, then this- this humble little abode- is where our home started.
So, we're moving. Sure, I'm happy and excited. Sure, I'll be glad to have all our possessions loaded and headed for a new neighborhood, new surroundings, and new faces. But for a little bit, people, just walk away. Leave me- give me a moment with myself and this little house that will soon be an empty shell. Let my say good-bye, but let me never forget... because this is where the dream, the plan, and the family began.

Going GREEN!

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 03:52:55 GMT

You know you're a garden junkie when you post a pic of your garden in "soft focus."

Prayer Request

Thu, 02 Jul 2009 13:43:49 GMT

One of the students in our GED class this past winter, a 19 year old, unmarried girl with three children was arrested this past week for charges against her of smothering and killing her infant son with two pillows. She and her boyfriend had attended class for awhile, then dropped out halfway through because she gave birth to premature twins. One of these twins was the child that she suffocated.
Please pray for this mom, that she would seek God's face for healing and forgiveness for what she has done, and pray for her remaining two little children who are without a mommy.
You hear about things like this, in the news, etc... but it strikes a totally different chord when it is someone you know.

Memorial Day- Presque Isle

Sat, 30 May 2009 23:15:29 GMT

MOTHER'S DAY REFLECTIONS...

Sat, 16 May 2009 02:09:57 GMT

This is a poem I wrote for Mother's Day this year...

No Little Thing...
(based on the quote by Charles Dickens: "It is no slight thing, when they who are so fresh from God, love us." )

When I knew that I was carrying you so deep within my womb
And felt the little nudges grow to massive kicks and bounds.
When the Doppler proved your little heart was rythmic as a tune
No orchestra or symphony compared to such a sound.
Each time you stretched; joy-bells would ring...
That, my son, was no little thing.

With the throes of birth upon me, wrestling all my mortal strength,
As I challenged fear itself within the ocean waves of pain.
Then, suddenly- the piercing cry came after anxious length.
I held you in my arms as tears and laughter mixed like rain.
Your eyes met mine- love stirred within,
That love, my child, was no little thing.

As you stole my heart with just one brush of tiny fingertips,
As I thanked God for you each time His grace shone in your smile.
As heaven opened on the day that 'Mama' crossed your lips,
Tis then I knew the path I trod had been well worth its while.
I see you now, and my heart sings...
To call you mine is no little thing.