FDREL 121 revives a long forgotten blog

After 5 years of sitting on the shelf in cyber space, the blog has survived! Incredible.

I came back to this forgotten blog to create a new post for a religion class I am taking. My last post was about Emily's baptism, so I decided that this blog entry will be about 2 Nephi 31. Why should we be baptized and why was Christ baptized? In verse 2 & 3, Nephi says that he will speak unto us plainly and that his soul delighteth in plainness. I am going to follow Nephi's lead in this post. :)

Christ was perfect. He did no wrong, and yet he was baptized. Baptism washes away our sins and we have a clean slate. So if Christ was perfect, why did he need to be baptized? Verse 7 says: "Know ye not that he was holy? But notwithstanding he being holy, he showeth unto the children of men that, according to the flesh he humbleth himself before the Father, and witnesseth unto the Father that he would be obedient unto him in keeping his commandments."

Christ was baptized because it is a commandment for all men to be baptized. In doing so, he was setting an example for us by keeping God's commandments. Christ wanted us to follow him, so by being baptized, he showed us what he expects us to do. Nephi poses the thought, "Can we follow Jesus save we shall be willing to keep the commandments of the Father?" We should be baptized because God has commanded that we be baptized in the name of His Beloved Son.

Nephi also explains to us that our baptism is just the beginning. When we repent and are baptized, and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, we must "press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and all men." Accepting Christ and being baptized are probably the easy part. The hard part is afterwards when we must LIVE like Christ and endure to the end.

The best part? "Ye shall have eternal life."

Broken Promise

In another post, I commented that I would tell a fascinating story about Jonathan's continuing health problems. And now I am avoiding it. So, I convinced him that since he is disabled and can't really even get the mail without having to take a nap that he should keep a blog about his health problems and also other things that will come to mind. So one sleepless night, he decided to. I have had to help him a bit, editing and *decorating* his blog, but he's got to make it interesting! So he's getting a writing 101 class from me (not that I am an expert) and he can be found at:



http://www.jonathanstaker.blogspot.com/


We are still working on fine tuning the "extras," but he really wanted a way to keep in touch with friends, family, and former patients who have asked about his health.


Enjoy....

Two Posts in One Day, An Absolute Miracle!

Last May (2009) we went to Hawaii for Jonathan's Pediatric Dental Meetings.  We visited the Dole Pineapple Farm and rode the train that goes out into the farm.  When we arrived back at the "station," there was a lady with fresh pineapple pieces for everyone.  Not wanting to say, "No thanks, I don't like pineapple," as I am visiting the Dole Pineapple Farm (duh!), I took one and ate it. 


And I liked it!

So this spring I bought several pineapples to see if I could grow a pineapple plant.  All I did was cut off the top of the pineapple about 2 inches into the fruit part, plant it, and water it lots.  After a few tries, I finally figured it out and voila!  Here is one of my plants: 

All the old stuff on the bottom of the plant is from the original plant, but the bright green at the top is all NEW!  I am so excited, even though it might be 2 yrs before we actually get a pineapple.  So now I have 2 pineapple plants, 2 orange trees, 1 grapefruit tree, 1 lime tree (that produces all year), an apple tree, a peach tree (or it might be apricot, I forget), grapevines (that have yet to produce anything), and a pineapple guava plant that doesn't produce anything yet either.  Does this count as food storage?

I am still working on beautifying my blog. My 2yr goal is still in the works....I thought I'd clarify that since I promised to work on it 2 hours ago. ;)

Emily turned 8!

First I would like to say that I ignored my blog for so long that it completely fell apart.  The background is gone, my playlist doesn't exist anymore, the colors are all wrong.  My goal is to correct this within the next 2 years. ;)  Also, due to cyber stalking, I had to quickly make it private about a month ago or so, so if you get an invited and accepted and are reading this, I finally figured out how to do it!

Emily was baptized on June 12, 2010, which just happened to be her birthday. She was so excited. She was baptized the same day as one of her friends, so I made a video for everyone to watch while the girls were drying off and changing. But for YouTube purposes, I had to cut the video to 10 minutes, so its just Emily in the video. I had to completely redo the video because of Windows Movie Maker being a completely awful program, and YouTube doesn't show the quality of most of the photos and video in it, but I still wanted her aunts and uncles who couldn't come to be able to see it, should they choose. I would like to thank Mindy Gledhill for singing beautiful versions of lullabies that I was able to use and also the beautiful song she sings about the different times in a girl's life that she will wear a white dress. It was perfect for this occasion! I am probably forgetting to mention a few things, but I am kind of drugged up at the moment (I had surgery last week), but I guess that is what the "edit" button is for. Okay, here goes, and I hope this works!

Ruff Week

October 17, 2009

(This story has been sitting in the edit section since October, so I had to date it. And believe it or not, it's the short, short version.)

Finally, a story about Jackson. But it's a sad one. Sad for me. Sad for him. Sad for our whole family.

Five years ago, we got a puppy. A Standard Schnauzer so cute except for the disgusting way that the breeder butchered her ears. (Why do dogs need to be altered?) But Ruby turned out to be an awful puppy, as all puppies do.

Her fetish was plants. Any and ALL plants.

She would even pull up rose bushes despite the huge honkin' thorns all over the stems. Weird.

She would pull up plants out of the ground and rip them to shreds on the lawn, to the tune of about $800 worth.

Then Max the Yorkie came into the family. And a year and few months later he left to go live out his life happily on a farm where he could run and play.

Okay, not really, but I made your eyes widen.

Max went to live in Utah with my sister and became king of the household and beloved by everyone in the family, except for Chris. Shame on you Chris! And thus with the departure of Max, there was no more pee on my sliding glass door.

Then a year and a half later, for some reason (which I really blame on Dog Whisperer) we chose to rescue a dog. And she had *issues.* We resolved most of them, but guarding food was never one that we could fix. Crazy Maisy.

There is a point to all this, I promise.

And then one day I noticed that my favorite black shoes were completely worn out. Fearing that Stacy and Clinton would be secretly watching me, I decided to go to San Tan Mall and check out the shoe department at Dillards. As I was walking out of Dillards, actually wearing my new shoes, feeling like the world was right, and for the most part very spiffy, I had to pass by a pet store.

Never, never again will I ever enter a puppy mill pet store.

But that day I got suckered. I felt so sorry for the beautiful yellow lab turning in circles because it was the only way to get exercise. I thought, "This is just what my dad needs! Something to take care of!"

The shoes must have been too tight, cutting off oxygen to my brain, creating non-specific white matter changes. I don't know what I was thinking. But it was a mistake, for so many reasons.

As first my parents loved Penny. Even when she pooped in her kennel. Even when she had parasites because of the deplorable puppy mills. And then they loved her not so much as she chewed on the house, the sprinklers, and pretty much everything.

My dad has some health issues which I will not mention here, and though Penny was not particularly the only problem, the worry and stress of a yellow lab puppy was too great for him. My mom loved her. Penny was always happy, always willing to play and give and get love. She was great for my mom.

So I took Penny for my parents. We live 4 houses down the street, so at least my mom could come visit. Somehow we'd manage.

And we did for a while.

Maisy has issues with other dogs. It is apparent that she had to fight for food wherever she had come from. So at first Maisy has issues with Penny. But Penny had a happy-go-lucky attitude and a little 15 lb dog couldn't really do much harm to a 65 lb yellow lab with super model legs. So Maisy relaxed and began to really like Penny. Penny was like doggie therapy. Maisy came to depend on Penny.

Then they bonded.

So when Maisy picked a fight with Ruby, at first Penny seemed to just defend Maisy. And then each time it escalated. We tried to identify issues that caused the fights - mainly food. We came up with solutions to avoid placing the dogs in those situations. It worked for a while, but it still continued. Ruby wasn't blameless either. She is a goat. She eats anything and everything. And she wants to be the boss.

There is more to the story than I can type. So here's the punchline.

I struck a deal with Jackson. If he did certain jobs around the house while I was at Target, I would give him back his wireless adapter for his Xbox. He finished his jobs and texted me, so I told him to pick up dog poop and play with the dogs. I would be home soon.

And so he picked up poop, and threw the tennis ball for Penny.

And Ruby joined in.

And at some point it went from "I'll happily retrieve the ball if you'll throw it again" to a knock down drag out fight between Penny and Ruby. And then Maisy joined in.

Then Jackson thought Ruby was going to be killed and so he tried to break up the fight. He got bit by both dogs.

Ruby was just about torn to shreds. Gaping wounds left my heart racing, my mind wondering whether an anxiety attack was the appropriate response. And I wasn't even home when it happened. Jackson called his grandparents, who couldn't quite understand him on the phone because he was so upset. But they rushed over and saw what had happened. They called me and luckily I was already pushing my overloaded cart to my car to load up and come home.

It was a heartbreaking site, seeing Ruby so torn up and hearing Jackson plead with me to take care of her. Her wounds were beyond my skills so I made the decision for my parents to take Jackson to Phoenix Children's Urgent Care while I took Ruby to the 24 emergency animal hospital. I asked them to take her so I could go be with my son, because he is my priority, even though his wounds were not terrible. He just had a few puncture wounds and needed no stitches.

Ruby wasn't so lucky. I think she had around 50 or 60 stitches and some wounds could not be stitched closed because they needed to drain. She had 3 drains at the the bottom of the 3 worst wounds. She had them for almost 2 weeks.

When we brought Ruby home that night she was so sedated and so we made a bed for her that simulated the safety she feels in her kennel. The next morning when we let Maisy out to go to the bathroom, even though Ruby was sedated, Maisy tried going after her. I had no problem grabbing her tail and swinging her out the door. She has never liked Ruby. Penny, on the other hand, laid tied up with sad eyes, watching Ruby and whining. It was like she knew she did something terrible. Maisy didn't care.

Maisy had taken control of Penny. A little 15lb dog told a 65 pound dog whether she was allowed to eat or not. And so Maisy decided she was the pack leader and Penny was her second in command. My solution was to get rid of both of them. Don't get me wrong, we all loved Penny. She was beautiful and great with the kids and she swam with us. She would pull the kids around the pool while they held onto her tail. But we just couldn't take the chance that Ruby and Penny would fight again.

Our landscaper had offered to take her 6 months prior and while I was tempted (3 dogs being 3 too many) I declined because of how attached my kids were to her. So I called him up and explained everything to him. He was hesitant at first, but I told him if it didn't work out that he could give her back. So he agreed. I was gone when he came to get her, so I never got to say goodbye, but from what I was told, she had no hesitation getting in his truck and going with him. While I secretly hoped that she missed us, I wished that she wouldn't. And she did just fine with him. In fact, she is better with his young boys than his German Shepard is. Penny may be an ADHD dog, but she still was awesome. Thank you Edgar!

Maisy I tried to adopt her out on the weekends at Petsmart, and many people had an interest in her, but wouldn't take her b/c of her issues with other dogs. She's great with people and kids, she just doesn't like other dogs.

So Maisy ended up with a metaphorical "stay of execution". She got to stay with our family. And she has learned to play with Ruby and have fun, but when the food comes out, so does Crazy Maisy.

Where is the Dog Psychology Center when you really need it?

And Jackson healed quite nicely.

Sneak preview:

Coming up next post - 2 days after the dog fight, my husband collapses and ends up hospitalized. Stay tuned because its better than ER or Grey's Anatomy!

IgE Miracles

Wow. 5 months since the last thought. It either must be a record or I just don't have any thoughts running through my head. Or both.

On a shiny happy note, Emily's fear of death by peanuts has been eased. Her burden has been released. Her load is lighter. She has cleaned the clutter out of her closet. Actually she hasn't literally done that, but it would be a bonus for me if she did. The blessed Dr. Wong has told Emily that she is no longer allergic to peanuts! We went in for a yearly check up with the allergist and he recommended that we do a blood test to see how allergic she is to peanuts now. He said that she might not even be allergic anymore.

I thought, "Yeah, right."

Well, he was right. And in retrospect I think I should remain open to dear Dr. Wong's intuition and give him props where props are due.

So all that drama and hysterics a few months ago was completely and totally in vain. If only she had known that she could have chosen another topic to drive her mania. I am sure it would have been just as entertaining.

And btw, Jackson still does not want me to write any sort of story, funny anecdote, or even nod at him on my blog. I am most likely in violation of his terms and agreement regarding Jackson stories by even just mentioning this. I will say though, that he is a freshman in high school. I have a child in high school. Just typing that made my joints ache. But even more fantastically amazing, he likes seminary! Will wonders never cease?

Death and All of Her Friends

I, Kari, do solemnly swear to someday write a story about my 1st child, Jackson, whom I have never mentioned in my blog. Though. . . I am sure he is quite happy to never be mentioned on my blog.

On with the show.

Death has come to visit my house. Death, or rather, the subject of death. Emily sees death everywhere but not in the "I see dead people" kind of way. Remember that she's six, so her world is about a foot in diameter, all around her.

It started with a phone call from the school. "Hi, this is Arlene, the school nurse. I have Emily in my office and she is hysterical because she thinks she has eaten peanuts." Oh great. I haven't showered yet. Why is it I never get a call from the school to come pick someone up WHEN I AM SHOWERED? (I already know the answer to that question, so don't bother to answer.) I bet the front office staff and nurse think that I never bathe.

Its not that Emmy doesn't have a reason to be afraid of peanuts. She IS allergic to them. And she HAS seen her brother go to the hospital several times because we had to use an epi-pen. But we, as in the very patient school nurse and I, determine that she did not eat anything with peanuts. She's just freaking out.

A few days later, another call from her teacher. "Hi, this is Mrs. Fultz. Emily thinks she has eaten peanuts, but I really don't see any ingredient that can be considered a peanut product."

Hmmm, I think. Still not showered, so....."Tell her she's okay, and if she doesn't calm down, send her to the nurse for a benedryl. It won't hurt for her to have one, and she'll feel better." Maybe I had better shower, just in case.

I really do shower, everyday.
Where does death come into all this? Just wait.

A couple nights later I pass her room and she calls my name, as if she wants to trap me in her doorway by asking I-don't-want-to-go-to-bed questions. I act as if I did not hear her and she's fine. A few minutes later I hear crying - frantic crying - and Jonathan is holding her trying to calm her down.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

Why oh why Emily are you going to die?

"I drank something and I'm gonna die."

Oh crap. What did she drink?

"I don't know what it is. I have to show you. PLEASE! I have to show you before I die!"

And the way she said that was not a please-help-me-so-I-won't-die kind of pleading. It was a I-am-going-to-die-no-doubt-about-it-but-before-I-go-I-want-to-let-you-know-why-I-am-dying kind of pleading.

How considerate in her time of need. From now on when faced with a difficult situation, I will most definitely think, WWED?

She leads us downstairs, in the garage (oh no! there is lots of awful stuff to drink in the garage) out onto the driveway (whew!), into the neighbor's yard (okay, something weird is going on here), to the other side of the neighbor's yard and VOILA! She points to a cape honeysuckle flower.

"Riley made me drink it!"

You know, he does have an airsoft gun. (those blasted things, but that is another post) I picture him holding it pointed at her, "Drink the honeysuckle water or else! Wahahahaha!"

I turn my head away from her. Jonathan turns his head away from her. Please don't let her see us laughing at her.

Apparently she drank it some 4 to 5 hours before she freaked out. But in all fairness, it is quite common for us to not see the error of our ways immediately. A nice bedtime reflection seems to be good for her soul.

Hysterics cause 6 year olds to stay up so late that they don't make it to school the next day. There is no convincing a resolute 1st grader.

Fast forward.

In the movie theater. Don't know what movie. Eating popcorn. Apparently too much popcorn. Heartburn sets in. Her face gets panicky. I explain to her what it is (I am assuming at this point because I rarely, if ever, get heartburn). She believes me - until it hurts a bit more. We try a drink or two. She sits on my lap. She gets more and more worried. Starts to cry.

"Take me to the hospital. I'm dying! I'm dying! Take me to the hospital! Call an ambulance!"

People look at us, not at the movie. Lots of people.

Please Emily, panic a little quieter. Can you whisper that you are dying?

Fast forward.

I'm in the kitchen with Lisa, our babysitter/nanny. I hear feet pounding on the stairs. I look at Lisa and say, "You know what is coming, right?"

Emily runs in the kitchen with a distraught face and declares, "I'm having a heart attack!" And she means it. Literally. "My heart is beating too fast!"

I think, well duh! You just ran down the stairs at breakneck speed. Ooops, did I say that outloud?

And so it goes. Everyday is a new crisis. My finger is hot, but the others aren't!

My eye itchs, my eye itchs (complete with crazy jumping up and down)! (Well, scratch it!)

"Nite nite, Emily, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." Now I can see more white in her eyes than green. "I don't want them to eat me!" I really should think before I speak. Now she'll be up for 3 more hours. Okay, think fast.

"Nite nite, sleep tight, don't let the cute puppies on your bed lick your face!" (This is where I pick up her stuffed animals and make them pretend lick her. Whew! It worked.)

On the bright side, she has enough sense to refuse to sit on the Easter Bunny's lap. "I'm not that kind of person," she says.