One Month Down...

I have really wanted to post an “update” on the old weight issue, but felt so incredibly vain or even silly doing so. First, it isn’t really anybody’s business / does anybody really want to know anyway. Second, I feel those people who read my blog are in “my sphere” and will say encouraging words whether they mean it or not, and lastly, I feel people will be cheering me on / fussing at me for my real thoughts in the matter.

After my first month at Curves, on the Kathleen’s Instead-of-Lapband-Procedure New Eating Agenda, I lost a grand total of 11 lbs and 6.5 inches.

Now, I know that is great, I know that “losing is better than gaining”, I know that “you have to start somewhere”, I know that “you didn’t put the weight on over night and you can’t take it off over night either”, I know that “to lose weight too fast means you’ll just gain it all right back”, etc etc etc. I know all of the platitudes. I’ve said them myself, or have already heard them.

But, the fact of the matter is, I have been very, very good, and I honestly was hoping for more drastic results. There, I’ve admitted my human-ness. In the entire month, I only “cheated” twice. Once at Andrew’s going-away party where I ate fried food, though I still measured them out. Second was another weekend when we went to San Marcos to see Matt and Adam. I ate “real” food all day instead of the protein drinks for two meals, however, I still ate only what I am supposed to eat, like salad and fruit and protein, AND I only ate the correct amounts. Another reason I felt I should have “lost big”, was I was really sick for about 3 ½ days with a bad stomach virus, and didn’t eat much at all.

Another issue with my “diet” is that I truly only lasted with liquid only for about 10 days. It was the pits, and if truth be known, after the initial big weight loss the first week, I started gaining, because except for the protein drinks, the broths, soups, and Gatorade-type drinks are loaded with sodium – I mean really loaded. For example, one day, I had two “Soup on the Go”, the non-lower sodium version, and those two little 11-oz containers had more sodium than I needed for the entire day. Back to plan B, C, or D.

I have modified my regimen to drink two protein meal-replacement kind of drinks for breakfast and lunch. For my other 2 snack times, I have fruit or raw veggies or I still have a soup or something, but the reduced sodium kind. I know that I need to keep my protein level up to maintain losing weight, too.

I LOVE Curves. It is fun, I’ve made “friends”, and it makes me feel like I’m in control or something. (we all know I’ve never been really in control of anything, but FEELING like you are is good). I have set some short-term and long-term goals – nothing too outrageous – and am working towards them.

Like most other “issues” in life, the Battlefield of the Mind is the greatest obstacle. I have my mind made up, and I know THAT is way more than half of the battle.

One month down…

11 lbs down...

It’s a long and arduous journey, but...

“it’s gonna be worth it all !!”

A heck of a way to celebrate

It began quite innocently on Wednesday the 2nd. Like most mornings, unfortunately, I woke up not feeling quite all right. Not bad, ya know, just not right. I really do yearn for the days I can wake up and feel good. Went to work, just not into things like I usually am. Then about lunch time it started. I couldn’t stay out of the toilet. Barely made it home after work. Just couldn’t even leave to go to church.

It was important for me to be at work Thursday because the two bosses were going to be out of the office for most of the day, so I pulled myself out of the bed and went. Thankfully, it was incredibly slow because I felt very light-headed all day long – the proverbial “woozy”. Then about 2 o’clock the gags and the pukes started. Again, I barely made it home. I was really friendly with the toilet by now.

Friday, America’s Independence Day, the 4th of July. No, we don’t have really big plans, but I DEFINITELY planned to spend the weekend scrapbooking. The house was clean, the dinner bought, and I had pictures and great paper, and IDEAS. I couldn’t wait! Well, I spent the entire day, feeling like I had been run over by a truck. I hurt all over. I got up, took a shower, put on clothes and laid on the couch ALL DAY. The only activity I had was moving from one end of the couch to the other because my body hurt so badly and my legs were cramping constantly.

Melanie and David Hauser came for dinner that Stephen and Paul cooked. I did go to the table, but just couldn’t stay very long. Back to the couch. Soon it was dusk and every one went outside for fireworks that Melanie had brought. I got up and went to the glider on the porch. I couldn’t see very well. I tried one of the rockers. Still not a very good view of the festivities. So I went and sat on the porch steps. Not as comfortable as my sore body wanted, but I could see better.

About this time, Calla, our 12-year old, temperamental, cranky, generally old-woman-type cat sauntered up to get her back scratched. I scratched her neck, her back, and then her neck again, then stopped. She meowed, and moved around and I scratched her neck again. I stopped. And she turned around and BIT ME right on the thumb. I slapped at her and she didn’t quit – it was like she couldn’t retract her fang – it was embedded deep into my left thumb. IT HURT. I moved her head to get it out, she looked at me and meowed once more.

I went inside to the bathroom. There were about 6 puncture wounds all bleeding quite a bit. I pushed on them to get the bleed more, then I washed the area with lots of soap and water and then poured peroxide on everything. I was still bleeding, so I wrapped a bath rag around my thumb and went back outside for the rest of the fireworks. I can assure you though, IT HURT.

Saturday: I really didn’t sleep very well. I know it sounds really wussy to say my thumb hurt all night long, but it did. I woke up this morning with my thumb really swollen, and a long red streak from the puncture wounds to my armpit. The tenderness of the area was something similar to a deep fresh bruise. I was shocked. I fiddled around the house a little, and got dressed and Paul took me to the Urgent Care center where they were shocked that the bite was only hours old. The doctor said the cat must “really have a dirty mouth”. No, duh. This cat licks her butt and rolls in the dirt. He said that the infection was in my lymph system and needed to be closely watched.

Anyway, I got two high-powered shots: 1) an antibiotic, and 2) a steroid. Then the doctor gave me prescriptions for more of the same and told me to watch the streak and if it got worse to go to the ER and make sure I contacted my Dr on Monday.

Well, it is now Sunday night, and if you could see my hand and my arm, you would know that the FIRST thing I am going to do tomorrow is call my doctor. The streak is very dark, pronounced, and swollen now. The swelling is not only in my thumb, but also all over the back of my hand, into my fingers, and around my wrist. The redness is everywhere the swelling is. And the swelling is VERY tender. That is what is so strange, and makes this so miserable.

Miserable – that is exactly the word I want to use. Sounds very whiney, very pity-partyish, but is just the right word. I can’t sit because the two shot areas are quite sensitive and one’s even bruised. I’m tired of lying down because I’ve been there off and on for 5 days, and beside that, I can’t lay on my left side because it hurts my arm and hand. Whaa-whaaaaa. Miserable.

Can’t wait to hear what good ole Dr Maribeth says tomorrow…

Oh yeah, there was a very bright light in here somewhere – I GOT A LETTER FROM ANDREW!!! He’s happy, but homesick, yet doing very well!!!

And finally, hope you had a Happy 4th!

One Post Script: It has been a long and expensive Monday. The good news is that Calla did not knick the bone when she bit me;the bad news is that I'm not responding to the antibiotic like I should. They changed the meds, gave me another shot, plus a tetanus booster, and told me if things weren't better tomorrow, I would need to have my thumb lanced and drained, or else it wasn't going to start healing. I can't believe all of this!

Melanie asked me if I needed to have a serious talk with God to see what I had done to warrant this "attention". Thanks Melanie.

29 and Holding...

This past weekend, Paul, Stephen, and I took our summer pilgrimage to El Rancho Cima to spend time with Adam and Matthew. They had just finished week #3 of summer camp, and by all appearances, are having a very successful experience.

Last Wednesday, June 25th, was Adam’s 29th birthday – the main reason for the mom and pop trip to camp. I was having MAJOR trouble believing I was actually old enough to have a kid that was 29 years old, if you know what I mean. Really. It seems like I was just a kid yesterday.

I remember calling my mama on Adam’s 5th birthday, upset that my “baby” was already FIVE YEARS OLD. She laughed her gentle laugh, and then told me it was no big deal, since her baby – me – was 30!!!

Adam was one loved little boy. Besides having a mama and daddy that were so excited about being parents, the GRANDparent element was beyond thrilled!!! My daddy was 44 when I was born, and 79 when Adam was born. His first grandchild at 79! You would have thought that there was not another child ever born. The ICING on the cake was the fact that Adam was a red head. Whoa! My dad was especially partial to redheads! Then we named this cute little redhead “Adam”. My dad was overboard in love with this kid for sure!!

Rogers Adams was something else. I could write for DAYS about him – The Reverend R. Angel Adams, as he was affectionately known. To quickly sum up my daddy, I feel it is safe to say he was a lousy husband, not particularly a good dad, but a FABULOUS Paw-Paw. He loved those boys of mine. He never tired to them at his house, loved to tease with them, watch TV with them, even play “Nuh Nin Toe” (his very weird way to say Nintendo – just to poke at the boys) with them. And while he was sick for the last 7 years of his life, from 1985 on, he wanted to be as involved in their growing up as he could.

Adam Paul Newton was born at 11:11 am. I promise you, and I am not at all kidding, nor even exaggerating, that every day from then on, when the digital clock on the TV read 11:11, my Daddy would say OUT LOUD, “Well, it’s 11:11.” Like it was some mystical time. It was a time that was as important as Dec 7, 1941, or his birthday, or something. What a difference one little boy made.

Paw-Paw never missed a birthday, either. Whether it was at the house or at Putt-Putt or Show Biz Pizza, he was there and right in the middle of things, too. Hey, are there any Putt-Putt golf places anymore? My boys had a blast playing, and they had good parties, too.

Hey, son, let me say that time surely has gone by very quickly. Scary sometimes, I might add. But let me take this time to say, 6 days late, but you know me…

Happy Birthday, to you!!!

Love you more than you'll ever know.

It really did happen...

What can I say that hasn’t already been said!?!?

Let me repeat myself by admitting I am a very spoiled mama. And, I love it!

Thanks to my father-in-law, Andy Newton, for instilling in his oldest son a respect bordering on reverence for women in general, and wives and mothers in particular. By all accounts, it appears Andy was taught / demonstrated this quality by his dad.

Thanks to that oldest son, my wonderful husband, Paul, for loving me and continuing to exhibit this love and honor for wives and mamas to his sons for yet another generation to learn.

I know many mothers. All different kinds, from all different walks of life with different families, and with all different kinds of children. Few of them have the adult children that are as good to their moms as mine still seem to be to me. Again, I know I am “spoiled” .

This past Wednesday night, June 18th, Paul, Stephen, and I had a late dinner with Andrew and then just watched idly by as he walked away from us, through motel doors into the lobby and into a new phase of his life. Anchors Aweigh just doesn’t even begin to encompass the myriad of emotions that I am experiencing.

Everyone thinks that I am “worried” about Andrew’s choice of careers: the US Navy. No. Pure and Simple – No! I am so excited about this new venture. I know he is truly in the will of God, and He is in control. Andrew is going to have a blast. I just know it. Worry has never been a factor. That is not my problem.



I AM GOING TO MISS HIM!

There is no other way to say it. Few people know that he has always come by to see me once or twice a week. Ever since he graduated from high school back in 2000, he has managed to “swing by” and see me at work. Additionally, he, like Matt and Stephen, call me on a daily basis just to “check in” – see if I need anything, what I’m doing, etc. Andrew, like his daddy, tries his best to take care of the mama!!! Yes, I’m gonna miss him.

BUT, I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE THAT IS GOING TO MISS HIM!

He’s a great man. He is incredibly active in our church – besides playing an awesome bass guitar, he does many things “behind the scenes” that no one really knows about. He goes by a couple of times a week to “check on things” – make sure the sound is okay, make sure the microphones and the cords are still straightened (he’s very OCD about these things). He is there. He’s dependable, consistent, and trustworthy – to say the least.

He’s an AWESOME cook. He can turn a simple piece of chicken into a meal fit for the King. He doesn’t do meals very simply either – they are generally masterpieces of culinary delight. He makes the best cheesy-chicken fondue / dip. His hot sauce is renowned. No one can make an alfredo sauce quite like he can, either. I could go on and on, but suffice it to say, the boy can cook! My family is going to have to settle for Mama’s plainer-style of cooking again.

He’s a fabulous friend. You can tell him anything, and he will never repeat it. He will stand by you when no one else will. He has been known on many occasions to put his plans aside to be a friend to another. He will go to all kinds of extremes to help someone out – even put himself into fairly prickly places. We kid him that he’s a KISA – Knight In Shining Armor. There have been many girl “friends” that have needed help, needed a shoulder, needed a male with no pressures, and Andrew has been that male. Much to the consternation of many, though. Talk about some “prickly places”. Girls might say they just want a friend, but they lie. Girls might say no strings attached, but they lie. But Andrew still will help anyone who needs him.

He’s an incredible worker. All of his life he has been the “physical” child. He loves doing things – loves being busy. He can figure out “how-to” do just about anything, too. He has never been afraid to work, has an incredible work ethic. There are many people all over Montgomery County that when they need something done, they call Andrew.

I guess I need to shut up. I do not want to sound boastful or prideful, but I am one proud Mama. I really am.

Yes, I am going to miss James Andrew Newton. But, I AM proud of the man my son has become. Truth be known, I am PROUD of the men all of my sons have become. And, while Andrew has made his parents proud, and his friends and family also, I now know that he has the chance to do something bigger.

He can make his country proud.
Anchors Aweigh. I love you, son.

6 down... God only knows how many more to go...

Let’s see. I really am enjoying this week. Oh, don’t be fooled. The trick to the lap-band surgery is that your stomach is cinched to about the size of a lemon instead of about the size of a football (the size of most “fatties” stomachs). With the surgery, you are “full” after drinking your 6-8 oz of protein drink, or eating your 6-8 oz of jello. Well, let me share with you that I have definitely, absolutely, positively - whatever is the buzz word that I am saying too much at the time - been HUNGRY!!! My arm looks good about 3 in the afternoon, or especially 11 at night.

BUT I HAVE MADE IT through week #1. Only going by the Curves scales – not my own or the ones at work – I have officially lost 6 ½ lbs. I worked out Mon – Fri (even went to a workout before Wednesday nite service. Just told people not to sit too closely!!! Hahaha!!!)

I HAVE MADE IT.

You have to understand. I hate, hate, HATE to sweat. Let me say that again. I HATE to sweat. I have NEVER liked to exercise. It was not even remotely close to anything I would want to do. Even in school, PE was my LEAST favorite subject. Oh, I did everything, and I could perform all of the activities well, always made great grades, it just wasn’t fun.

Now DANCING was another thing. I loved, loved, LOVED to dance. I started taking ballet when I was 5 years old and took either ballet, tap or jazz or a combination every year until my jr year in high school. I even took dance classes for all of my PE classes in college. And, of course, I danced my life away during my college years, too. In my quest to lose weight, since then, I’ve tried the “sweating to the oldies”, or the like type of exercise, but never very successfully.

I obviously needed to try something else…so…

Thankfully, this is different. Of course, I will admit, I have a different mindset than ever before. That is the primary difference. You know: the old battlefield of the mind problem. It takes waking up one morning and saying this is it!! But, the ladies at Curves have been great. They are encouraging, without being pushy, helpful without being showy. Moreover, there are other women there with great success stories to let you know “you can do it, too”. They play great “get up and go” music: some oldies, but mostly Christian music set to an up beat. I have to admit “Holy, Holy, Holy” or “Great is Thy Faithfulness” or “Amazing Grace” performed to “moving music” is a little much, even for me. Oh well, whatever works.

Now on to week #2.

Thirty Days

I am definitely showing my vulnerability. Such an incredible way to embarrass myself completely. I am willing to take that chance…

Just today, I told a young friend of mine who is very new to the world of “blogging”, that I didn’t blog like most people: I didn’t write the daily goings on, or daily thoughts of my life. However, I still loved blogging. I started this journey using this writing as a vehicle for me to finally get my “stories” written down. You know, for posterity, and all of that. HAHA.

Point of Departure...

However, today marks a very important day to me. And, perhaps if I use a rather public forum to “announce” it, to talk about it, I will find success in my new venture.

I have struggled with my weight for 26 years now. No, that really isn’t true. It’s been a lifelong dilemma, just at different levels. I was “chubby” as a kid. Never ever fat, just more than I needed. I had a “normal” weight from about 12 to 17 years old. I gained a little extra weight in a fun summer in California before my Senior year. I got the extra pounds off very quickly and kept it off until my second baby. By then, I was 28 years old and it is not chubby anymore – but fat!!

I have added and subtracted, then added again, and find myself now at 54 years old fatter that I ever ever dreamed was possible. I have never had any health problems associated with the weight, until now. For all of my life, I have had low blood pressure. Too low sometimes, especially when I was having migraines. But, the opposite is oh-so-true these last couple of months. My blood pressure has been stroke level, and difficult to control.

I could elaborate here talking of other health issues, but there’s no need. Let it suffice to say there are some.

Oh, diets. I have tried them all. As a family, we try to eat very healthfully, I just like lots of healthy food. HAHA! I know it is almost past time to get serious.

Let me begin by saying my Dr is a very good friend. I like her a great deal, and trust her opinion. She feels that I am a prime candidate for lap-band surgery. She has already talked to my insurance and certified that the procedure in medically necessary, and therefore my insurance will pay for it.

I am not really sure this is what I want to do. So I have read everything I can find about the surgery, talked with several people that have had it done, talked with a surgeon yesterday.

Still, I am not sure. So, I decided that I would try to just “eat” the way one must eat after the procedure and see where that will get me. Think about it: you only get to eat 6-8 oz of food 6 times a day, with 64 oz of water “sipped” during the day. The first couple of weeks, perhaps even month, is limited to liquids and soft foods, protein drinks being a chief source of nutrition.

Come on now!!! If any “fatty” only drinks 48 ozs of “food” for about 6 weeks, one should definitely expect some changes. Right!?! So, I am going to try this first.

Oh yeah, I joined Curves today for 30 days.

So, on July 5th, my 30 days will be up with Curves and I will have completed 30 days of the Kathleen’s not-lap-band-non-surgery diet. It can’t help but be different.

Later…

Happy 31st Anniversary - 5/28/2007

31 years!

Who can believe it!

Thirty-one years ago today, Paul and I were married. It was a sweet, simple, yet beautiful ceremony. We had planned and planned wanting everything to be “Just Perfect”, but we didn’t want to spend lots of unnecessary money. The day finally arrived. If you know me very well, for me to tell you the wedding started almost one hour late, you’re not surprised! But it really did start late…The florist was lost, and then didn’t bring the correct flowers. It was ridiculous! My poor mama was frantic, but I wasn’t too worried. I was so in love and so ready to get married to Paul, I didn’t care what happened.

I have so much to be thankful for that day. Paul is a God-given gift to me. God sent Paul into my life when I was definitely at the nadir of my existence. There were family troubles, failed relationships, worthless friendships, and life going haywire. However, when I reached that bottom, I remembered all of that Sunday School training and did the only thing I knew to do – PRAY. And honestly, while I was praying, telling God that I was ready to turn my life around, the phone rang, and it was Paul. I had met him about 7 weeks before, but had not heard from him at all. I was fairly taken with him the one time I met him, (in fact, I even called my mama the night I met Paul and told her I had met her future son-in-law! She told me to go to sleep and call her in the morning...) but wasn’t sure how he felt about me until he called. 17 months later we were married…

I have had a wonderful life being Paul’s wife. He has been so good to me, spoiled me mercilessly. He’s a fabulous husband, a wonderful daddy, a good provider in all ways, not just monetarily. Oh, he is not perfect. He’s anal, a major procrastinator, a “believer in compromise – as long as you do it his way” type of guy. He treats me like I’m 10 years old, and I hate it, but then if I wouldn’t act like I was 10, things would be different. HAHAHA.

Basically, our lives have been very equitably meshed together. I am the one who likes to be the center of attention; he doesn’t like attention. I like to be up front “being the star of the show”; he is definitely the behind the scenes worker. I like the whole cart and pony show; Paul is cleaning up after the pony. But it has worked so well for us. He has been my biggest fan, the “push” in my life. I don’t always have the best of self-confidence, possess limited self-esteem, but Paul has always believed in me. He helped me all of the way getting my Master’s degree, overcoming obstacles, and some serious collegiate departmental politics.

When we decided that I should be a “stay-at-home” Mama, he was there for me against the odds of most of our friends and family. He learned to love beans and rice so we could afford for me to stay home. He was my rock steady against ill winds when we chose a brand of parenting that was foreign to most people. He learned to love snuggling with his wife and his babies in a family bed. I could go on and on with examples of Paul’s love and support of me and our kids, but the greatest instance of this love was demonstrated from 1990 until 2007. Paul was my greatest support for my participation in the Christian education of our children. What a gift to me, what a gift to our children, and to others. What a wonderful man, what a magnanimous contribution he was willing to make.

It is simple: He had my back.

Last year, as we celebrated our 30th anniversary, we went out for desserts with our sons and their “others.” We had a wonderful time and we have the greatest pictures of the night to prove it! One of my favorite pictures is right here. I just thought it was “so cute.” However, as I truly looked over these pics with a more discerning eye, I noticed something else.

Yes, while I have basked in the knowledge of my wonderful husband always standing not only with me, standing not only for me, but my support system standing behind me, I now know how he’s survived.

He has made faces behind my back all of these years.

Who would believe this!!!

HAHAHA – I love it, and I love him!

(and he says he "hates" this picture - too bad!)

Happy Anniversary, Paul!!!

Blue, Baby Blue

Just for you, APN---

How do people tell stories with laying the proper foundation!? This process makes my stories so much longer than they probably need to be, but…

No one, and I mean no one at all, advised Paul and me what the 3rd addition of a child would do to our family. With only 2 children, there is balance. There is one child for each of you. Or if mom is out by herself, she still has two hands – one for each child. What is a mama to do with baby #3? I know God made mothers to be able to master incredible feats, but face it – we only have 2 arms and 2 hands. Puts a whole new flavor to the ice cream…

Matthew was born October 1. He was such a beautiful baby boy, and such a GOOD baby. I felt so blessed, but still a little overwhelmed. Adam was in the first grade, had a VERY strict, anal teacher. So, even though he was an incredible student and NOT at all a discipline problem – in fact, he made “citizen of the month” the first month of school - mom forgetting to give him his lunch one day, and Adam not telling mom he needed more notebook paper because he didn’t want to bother her since she and the baby were tired, just pushed the teacher into orbit. In fact, she even sent him to the office, made him call home and “tell why he was in trouble.” Do I need to say how close the teacher and I became that year?!

It was right after Thanksgiving that Entergy sent Paul to California to go to a school. Great timing, huh! We missed him, but I have always loved Christmas, so to keep my mind occupied, I just jumped into the middle of decorating and getting ready. I thought it would be so cute to make all of the boys, and Paul, matching sweatshirts. I wanted them to have green shirts with a brown fuzzy reindeer on the front. They would look so cute. So, whatever “down” time I had I was sewing.

At that time, every Christmas, Entergy had HUGE Christmas parties for the workers’ families with children. It was a very big thing, too. Everyone came, there were NICE presents for the kids, food, fun and, of course, SANTA!!! I was a little nervous about going without Paul, but I knew other people that would be there and besides that, like I said, it was a very big event! No one wanted to miss it!

On the afternoon of the party, I finally got Matthew to sleep, and decided to take a shower and get myself ready ahead of time. Wanted to look festive, you know!

In a previous story, I introduced the Allison’s. This was one of the days that Christopher was at the house with Andrew. That should pique some interest. Things never were calm with the two of them together. (Let me interject that things weren’t calm with Andrew and Kyle together, or Andrew and Blaine together, or Andrew and Jerry together, etc. Do you see the underlying thread in all of these scenarios? Hm-m-m-m. Make no mistake. You’re right in your assumption!)

I showered, rolled my hair, listening for the boys the whole time. The sounds were “normal” household / play sounds for the most part. Then before you know it, it was just a little quieter than it should be. Of course, all mothers know that when things are quiet, or are “too” quiet – you have a problem.

However, I quickly knew things were all right, because I heard the Lego bucket getting turned over, sounds of play, and knew they were doing okay.

Mind you, I was a VERY attentive mom. Played right there with the boys most of the time. SO, let me assure you, a lot of time HAD NOT passed, yet.

Soon it was time for me to have to go get Adam from school. I needed to wake the baby, get Andrew and Christopher, and head down the street to Tyrrell. I walked into the room where Matt was asleep and the first thing I noticed was that the baby was NAKED. This was NOT the way I left him. The next thing that I saw was that he was BLUE. Yes, BLUE.

By way of story-telling, let me elaborate here: When Matt was born, he was not breathing, and was declared “dead” by the OB delivering him. He was the most intense color of blue I had ever seen – something I will NEVER forget! SO---

So---seeing him BLUE again just made my heart lurch into my throat, and I immediately rushed over to him. However, I then noticed that the BLUE was little circles each with a flower in the middle of it. Hm-m-m-m… I grabbed a blanket, wrapped the baby up, and went to check on Andrew and Christopher. Can’t imagine why I would suspect them of anything, huh?!

Those two little “darlings” had taken all of Matt’s clothes off him, and taken a STAMP marker and stamped him ALL OVER! I was livid. I “stormed” into the older boy’s bedroom, and there they sat. They looked like little meek lambs, playing contentedly in the middle of the bedroom building towers, or something.

I rushed into the kitchen and tried to bathe the baby as quickly as I could to get the marker off. Of course, this didn’t work in the slightest, for you see, I only bought quality toys, books, and “educational” presents for the boys. If it would have been “RoseArt” cheap stamps, I wouldn’t have had a problem. But, since I bought premium markers and stamps, adding water only made the blue circles RUN TOGETHER and absolutely cover the baby. I had a BLUE baby for sure, now.

OH NO!! I HAD A SMURF!! That is EXACTLY what he looked like. BABY SMURF had come to live at the Newton house. How exciting is that.

It didn’t stop the Christmas event from happening, and we all donned our new reindeer sweatshirts and went to Beaumont for the production. Kathleen, her 2 older boys, and their new Smurf baby.

The icing on this cake is when we got to the Christmas party – remember this is 1985 – it was beautifully decorated. They always went overboard making things special. And guess what the theme was ---???

Yes, you guessed right! It was Christmas at the Smurf village. Even Santa was “Papa Smurf”!

Everyone there just laughed and laughed, thought it was GREAT, and acted so surprised that I had dressed our new baby to match the theme. They really were probably thinking I was a lunatic to bring my obviously very sick baby with such a horrible breathing problem out in the cold weather. I don’t know. This is another one of those times that there are vague moments in my memory. Some things are probably for the best…

What I do know is that we had a good time, got cute toys, drank punch, and had bites of a giant Smurf cake. Plus, my three boys looked so cute in their matching sweatshirts, even if Matt looked like a Smurf. AND, thankfully, it gave me a chance to “cool down” and collect my thoughts, and Andrew and Christopher are still alive today.

I somewhere in my house is a picture of the cute sweatshirts. Who knows where, though...

What do you want for Mother’s Day?

All of us moms know if you have to ask, we don’t want it. HAHAHA.

Seriously, though, I don’t want anything, I really don’t. I am at the age and time in my life that if I really do want something, I just get it. Of course, the fortunate part to this scenario is that I do NOT have extravagant taste – mine are not of the “Champagne taste” category. My wants are fairly conservative, and with the exception of dishes and scrapbook stuff, there aren’t many “things” I feel I just have to have. If I’m at the store and see a blouse I want and it’s ON SALE, and in my size, well, I’ll probably get it. If I see the newest Patterson or Steele book and it’s ON SALE, well I just might get it, too. But that’s about it.

HOWEVER, I CAN tell you what the

GREATEST MOTHER’S DAY GIFTS

really are. How do I know that? Well, I know what they are because I have gotten them recently. Here’s the list:

1. A trip home to spend the weekend, “just because”. Our oldest son lives in Northwest Houston, and like most almost 29 year olds, leads a very busy, involved life. He has started to make time about every 6 weeks or so, creating a weekend that he has free (probably loses money, too) to come home. Nothing fancy, nothing grand, just here with his family. (how many of you moms watched the NFL draft with your son? Talk about quality time! Or something like that!!!)
2. Surprised visits – the same son shocked the shinola out of me 2 years ago when he just showed up at church for Mother’s day festivities. Really made me cry and cry!!
3. A call of the telephone asking me where I am!!! What a wonderful change of circumstances. The boys want to make sure that I am safe!!!
4. The “I will meet you at the store” telephone calls. Stephen and Andrew are always “willing” to go with me to the store. This really isn’t true for, basically, their dad has trained them this way, I know. BUT, the flip side real TRUTH OF THE MATTER is - they do go!!! They are there for me. They know I hate to go by myself, and don’t like me to have to carry things out by myself.
5. The “what can I cook for dinner” phone calls!!! They’re great, too. Andrew has definitely spoiled his mama. Of course, it has been SO MUCH MORE than that, too. He has tried to take such good care of me, doing what he does best by keeping our house clean, dinners cooked, clothes washed and folded, etc during this past year of my dark abyss.
6. My red lap top bag. Matt, you did WELL with this one!!!
7. The fact that I have 3 chauffeurs. Especially, Stephen just will do what he has to do to take me where I have to go. I hate to drive anymore. (In fact, he has even driven me more than once to Port Arthur to see Bro and Sis DeLano. I know he was excited! NOT!)

CAN YOU TELL THAT I AM REALLY

THE QUEEN!

And recently, I got this gift:

Two years ago, Matt and I sat down and had a heart to heart talk about college. Adam and Andrew had flown through college, both doing incredibly well. (Adam is a given, and then Andrew did not even buy a book in the years he was at SHSU, worked 50+ hours a week, and then graduated with honors and a 3.5 GPA) Matt was trying to emulate his brothers, but wasn’t as successful. His hard-headed self was going to do it by himself – come hell or high water.

I told him of my mother, who very early in my education, realized I didn’t learn quite like everyone else. I was an auditory learner, and definitely a “hands-on” learner. I could read and read, but never completely understand and truly comprehend what I was reading. My mama taught me about flashcards, reading aloud to her or myself, writing down what I was learning, etc, etc. She spent many nights calling out spelling word, calling out tests, makings funny acrostics and acronyms to facilitate my memory. She was great. She was there all the way even through my Master’s Degree helping me learn and memorize. I graduated with honors with my BS and Summa Cum Laude with my MEd. She did something right.

I have tried to do the same. (It really helped in Bible Quiz – hahaha) I never minded studying anything to prepare the guys for a test. We have written, typed, sang silly songs, played games, etc. to help the learning process. So why would do anything different now. I tried to assure Matt that I was “in this for the long haul” and would do what it would take to help him.

Fast forward to May 2008.

It was late Monday night. Well, not really. It was early Tuesday morning. 2:30 to be exact. Matt had LOTS going on both in school for finals, and with his job as Program Director for El Rancho Cima Boy Scout Ranch. It had been a LONG couple of weeks of trying to get the “research paper from Hell” finished. And it is due today!!! The teacher wanted 15-20 pages, at least 10-12 sources. Matt and I have a system – he talks and I type. Granted, he talks a lot faster than I type, but after this long, we do “pretty good”. He has his own definite style of expressingly himself – getting his opinion across - so I have to pay close attention to type it correctly. (if you know what I mean!)

I was exhausted. It had been several nights of this. We finished. I left the office for him to go through the paper one more time reviewing for any overlooked errors, for the paper to be copied, and things shut down for the night. I went to lie down on the couch. I was fairly “wound up” and knew I couldn’t go to bed immediately, or I would twist and turn and disturb Paul.

Matt walked into the living room, went to the door to leave to go to his room, turned, and said, “Good night, and thank you, Mama.”

He quickly opened the door. Then, just as quickly, he shut it. He walked over to the couch, stood right in front of me and said, “I hope you know I really do love you, Mama.”

There is NOTHING at the mall

that can compete with this.

I love you guys, and THANK YOU Paul, for being the best husband and daddy, and for helping me become the mama that I am.

Happy Mother’s Day to Me!

And of course to all of the other mother-type people in my life.

Yes, he still has 10 toes - big and hairy now, but still 10 toes!

What in the world are you talking about, Kathleen, one might ask. Well, this is a Matt and Stephen story…

I don’t think there are many “visitors” to this blog that don’t already know my family-know my sweet husband, my 4 great boys - but for those who are not long time friends, I felt I needed to write a Matt or Stephen story to “introduce” more of my family. Of course, I also don’t need any more “sibling rivalry” in my household, so I am attempting the more “well-rounded” approach.

And while this story seems slightly far-fetched, it is quite true – only at the Newton Nut House…

Matthew was only 14 months old when I found out I was pregnant with baby #4. Matt was such a great baby. Beautiful. Such a cute little boy with white-blond hair. Sweet face and the sweet disposition. Gorgeous smile that one saw ALL of the time! “Sheer bliss and happiness.” He was such a great baby, and only 22 months old when Stephen was born.

Matt had been sick over the weekend and first thing Monday morning, I called the doctor for an appointment. I was very pregnant, and had been having LOTS of labor pains for several days, so the pediatrician got me into the office as quickly as possible. My mama gave over to watch Adam and Andrew, and my friend Cinda Aery came to drive me and Matt to the dr’s office. It was there that things really got exciting…

While standing at the dr’s office signing Matt it, be quickly became completely evident that before too long the Newton’s number 4 baby would be here.

Having 3 previous labor and deliveries that went quickly, we all knew that this delivery would be maybe too quick. My doctor, knowing that I hated hospitals and detested a great deal of medical intervention with my babies, made me promise to get to the hospital as soon as possible – he didn’t want me to have the baby in the car. So, as soon as Paul made it home, we were off.

Of course, things never go as they seem and even before birth Stephen it should have been evident that Stephen was going to do things his way. If only we would have seen more of the signs – hm-m-m. Hindsight is always 20/20. Just kidding, Stephen. But, in reality things were and still are definitely different with him. I basically had 3 very easy births with the other boys, but some HOW, some WAY, Stephen got just enough sidewise during labor that he wasn’t able to come down the birth canal. The dr, just laughed – really – said that is was impossible. For once the baby was engaged in the birth canal it couldn’t just move out of it and move around, but alas, this baby #4 did! We tried EVERYTHING known at the time to get the baby to move back into position, turn, do something, but it wouldn’t budge. We knew that it was a large baby, and that was why it was having trouble moving - there wasn’t room. Things went from ”this is different”, to we have a “crisis on our hands” and I was rushed off to the OR for an emergency caesarean section.

My OB and our pediatrician were both fabulous doctors, and while very conservative in their medical approach, were very progressive in thought. Everyone agreed that barring any problems, I would immediately have the baby, we would return to the room, and after the first 24 hours, I could go home to my family – back to my “sheer bliss and happiness.” I was concerned with Matthew because at 22 months, he had never been separated from me. Well, not only did the quick labor turn into a fiasco, I have several other major problems and my 24-hour stay was now on day 3. While we had been very pro-active in getting the boys ready for the “new arrival, and while Mama and Paul had brought the boys up to the hospital to see me and the “new baby,” Matthew would have NOTHING to do with me. He wouldn’t talk to me, or look at me or let me hug him. I was devastated. I could just look into his face and read, “You left me, and not only have you not come home, I come to see you, and here you are piled up in the bed, I can’t lay on you and snuggle, and NOW there’s this little THING with you”. Very upsetting for everyone, to say the least. I begged my OB to let me go home to my family, and he agreed. Finally, we were on our way to “sheer bliss and happiness”…

I definitely was “bright enough” to not walk into the house holding the baby. I went in loving on the boys. Matt very shyly seemed to be coming around, and soon we made it to the living room and he immediately snuggled up with me on the couch. Yes, the “sheer bliss and happiness” is going to still be right here. No sibling rivalry at the Newton’s!

Being so actively involved in many mothering and parenting organizations, my boys were around other’s babies all of the time. I had always cautioned them to not hold the babies’ hands, but they could pat their little feet. Matthew was so sweet. He kept coming up to me as I was holding Stephen in my arms, patting me and patting the baby. It wasn’t long before he asked to “kiss the baby’s feet”. Isn’t this just too cute! I am ecstatic! My wonderful family of all boys living in “sheer bliss and happiness.” Couldn’t get much better. So, with that cute, innocent little smile of his, Matt SWEETLY took Stephen’s little foot in his hands and began kissing his toes.

Suddenly, with lightening speed, he bared his teeth and sunk them down into Stephen’s toes! Stephen started SCREAMING; Matthew started SCREAMING; I was horrified, and felt like SCREAMING.

HE BIT HIS TOES. AND HE NEARLY BIT THEM OFF!!!!! If you don’t know, I will tell you – babies little toe bones aren’t completely calcified and “attached” to the feet. And Matt bit the toes right at the joint where they should attach to the foot.

NOW MY BABY HAS 3 TOES JUST DANGLING ON THE END OF HIS FOOT BY MERE STRIPS OF SKIN.

Of course, there is Daddy to the rescue. He takes Stephen, wraps his foot up (little if any blood involved), I get Matt into my lap to settle him down, and after an interminable length of time, we assess the damage and decide that a hospital visit might be necessary to stitch the toes back on the foot.

Needless to say, we were received with many chuckles and downright laughs at the ER! After a couple of stitches in 2 little toes, we are back home.

I would LOVE to say that everything was “sheer bliss and happiness” after that one incident, but I would definitely be lying. We had never had a playpen with the first 3 boys, nor had we used a baby bed since Adam was about 9 months old. However, it wasn’t long before I had to use both: Not to keep the baby “in” something, but to keep Matt “out” from the baby. He would sit on Stephen, lay down on him, put LOTS of covers or pillows over him, put LOTS of toys on him – need I go on. I had to do whatever I could to keep the baby safe. Matt always assured me the baby wanted the covers, the baby wanted him to jump on him, etc. It was a trip! Yes, I could go on, to the story about the broom and the Dr Scholl’s shoes, but those are for later. Don’t want to overload you with too much fun at one sitting…

And here we are, 20 years later. And while the implements of “torture” have changed, the attitudes haven’t. Oh, I have NO doubt that they love each other, and, as brothers, have each other’s back, but they are still a trip! They still can’t get along very well. They just now have MUCH to say to each other about EVERY thing. Don’t believe me? Just ask all of the people that sit behind us at church.