The Kids

The Kids

Thursday, December 31, 2009

To Whom Do You Pray

The kids have a routine of how they pray, whether it be at mealtime or bedtime. Sometimes they go through the basics of all the family and other times they keep adding on random things they are thankful for. One thing they always say they are thankful for is Joey and Nico. These boys are cousins who live in CA and who they absolutely adore when they get to visit. Both Abby and Caleb remind each other to pray for them.

Sometimes Caleb interrupts his sister when she is praying. If it is not his turn to pray, he finds it more fun to sing or babble, just to annoy her (and his mom and dad). Trying to explain why it is important to listen while someone else is praying, I asked him, "Caleb, who are we talking to when we are praying?" He answered, "Joey and Nico."

Well, there you go CA Aunt Karen-your boys are on the same level as the Creator in my son's opinion :)

Sunday, December 27, 2009


I have a very kind brother who gave up his bedroom for my kids when we are visiting. They now have the biggest room that they can share and keep all the toys in. It has been interesting how they have behaved as roommates. For the most part, they have whispered sweetly to each other and then fallen quickly asleep, since these past couple of days have been very busy. Today, however, they presented us listening to the monitor folks with a treat of a conversation.

Abby decided she had to go to the bathroom, which of course reminded Caleb that he had to go, too. These are some of the sentences that we heard...

"Good job peeing, Abby!"
"Thank you, Caleb."
"Caleb, do you need to pee or poop?"
"Just pee"
(sounds of grunts)
"I need to poop."
"Just keep pushing, Caleb."
"It's funny when I pee when I poop."
"Hold your peep down, Caleb."
(more sounds of grunts)
"Caleb, take a deep breath and let it out. That will help you poop."
"Look Abby, I got some poop out!"
Abby cheering "Go Caleb go! Go Caleb go! Push out the poop! Go Caleb go!"

Apparently, after I went up and cleaned him up he decided to go again without all the announcements. Eventually, Abby yelled "Caleb pooped again!" and when I went to clean him up, he said, "It's okay, Mom. Abby already cleaned me up."

I will spare my readers the details of exactly how well my daughter cleaned up her little brother's butt, but suffice to say I had to help him out.

Well, at least I have been able to get a good night's sleep with Caleb out of my room. Good luck Abby.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Caleb Tidbits

While eating at Chick-Fil-A this past week (gotta love kids eat free on Tuesdays), Caleb suddenly popped under the table and I saw him put something in his mouth. When asked what he was eating, he replied, "Pepperoni." Since none of us had ordered anything with pepperoni on it (and I do not believe the chicken sandwich store makes anything with it, either) that was an interesting response. I looked under the table and there was a bunch of old pepperoni under it. Nice.

Abby had a playdate with her school friends this week. Nick took the opportunity for some male bonding with his son and they went out for breakfast. When they returned toward the end of the playdate, Caleb started playing with the girls. There was one in particular he gravitated toward. She has short hair in the shape of a haircut similar to his. At one point I heard him referring to her as a "him." When her mom came to pick her up, my lovely son said, "Where is he going?" I quickly pulled him aside and explained she is a girl and he said, "No mom-he's a boy!" Still praying the mother never heard any of his words.

Last night, as I was putting Caleb to bed, I told him I loved him and he replied, "I don't love you." As my heart broke in two, he laughed and I knew he was joking. Still, I asked him how he would feel if I said, "I don't like or love you, Caleb." He got real serious, said he would be sad and said, "But, I do like and love you, Mom!" When I asked him why he said he didn't, he said, "Oh, because I thought you were ice cream." Oookay.

And finally, Caleb is now wearing underwear during the day. Right after I cleaned the carpets. Enough said.

Oh, except for our apologies to the Kroger that he left a puddle in.

Sunday, December 20, 2009


I used to laugh at those sad parents who stood in line in the wee hours of the morning to get whatever hot toy was out for Christmas that year. I would call them fools and wonder two things: 1)Why couldn't they just tell their kids, "Too bad" and get something else? and 2) Why didn't they buy the toy earlier in the year instead of waiting for the weekend before Christmas?

Yes, I am currently eating my own words.

Abby mentioned a couple of months ago that she would like a Barbie Dream House. I tried to explain to her that she already has a dollhouse, to which she explained to me that it is not big enough for her Barbie dolls. I was once a little girl. I can understand that.

Another month went by and she was still talking about it, proving it was not just a phase. This was the toy that she was hoping to get for Christmas. Yet, I still put it off. Partly because of forgetfulness, but mostly because of finances. I figured I would have more money to buy it later-you December... at Christmas time.

I know-my thinking was brilliant.

So, here we are, the week before Christmas. Before leaving to buy my remaining gifts, the Barbie house included, I decided to call the toy store yesterday just to make sure they had it. The first place did not have it, so I continued calling the other locations. After calling every Toys R Us, Walmart, Target and a variety of other toy stores in the city, I was left with one conclusion-I should have bought the house two months ago.

Finally, I spoke with a Toys R Us on the west side of the city that was putting a few out on the floor the next morning. Now, if you live in Cincinnati, you understand that the east side and the west side usually do not mix. In fact, I think I can count two times I have been on the west side-dinner with a work friend of Nick's and just driving around it to get to Indiana. Yet, in my search for our swing set and now the Barbie house, I have found what I needed on the west side. Interesting.

Anyway, the customer service person I spoke with at this particular store told me they opened at 7:00 a.m. and that they were having a big sale. So, I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m. (seriously) and figured if I made it there by 6:30 a.m. I would be okay, even if I had to wait in line for a little bit. However, I actually woke up on my own at 5:15 a.m. (never happens) and I sincerely think it was God who woke me up and motivated me. Otherwise, I would have been hitting snooze and wondering what on earth I was hearing my alarm so early for.

I followed my google directions to the only store in the city to save our Christmas (note my exaggeration-I fully know presents are not the reason for the season) and made it by 6:10 a.m. Imagine my dismay when I saw there were already people in the store! Panic struck and I thought, "All the houses will be gone! I have wasted all this gas driving here for nothing!" I quickly walked (and slid since it was too early for the salt trucks to attack the parking lot) to the store and asked the first person I saw if they had the houses. This wonderful man pointed to the cart that was holding three boxes and I was flooded with relief. I could even forgive the store for telling me the wrong time that they opened.

As I pulled out my trusty credit card (because, as I mentioned before, finances are just overflowing in December) and paid for the gift that will be "From Santa," a nice man in line behind me noted how happy some little girl is going to be when she gets that house. I mentioned I was from the east side and he was shocked I crossed the line and drove so far to get the house. I guess their side sees the division as well.

I got home just in time to see everyone waking up, bringing huge relief to Nick so he did not have to get the kids ready for church on his own. Suddenly, as the wave of exhaustion hit me, I found myself wanting some credit. It is not easy being "Santa." I woke up early, drove on some slippery roads across the city to get the coveted gift and "Santa" is going to get all the credit. There will be no "thank-you's" from my daughter. In fact, in the midst of my exhaustion, Abby has actually been a no-napping, crabby kind of girl for me.

Oh, but to see the joy on her face when she opens the gift. (Or, rather, takes the blanket off of it since we learned last year to put such gifts together instead of leaving them in the box. We find it will be better to struggle with piecing it together the night before rather than Christmas morning.) All the time and effort (and money) will be worth it when I see my little girl smile with excitement.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Favorite Time Of The Day

When I take Caleb out of the bath, wrap him in his robe, then sit and cuddle before putting his pajamas on, we have a tradition-we talk about our favorite parts of the day.

It started when he was younger and I was just trying to distract him into sitting still. Now, if I am distracted and forget to ask, he says, "Mom, my favorite part of the day was..." And of course Abby chimes in when she's within earshot-I think she gets jealous of any time spent apart from her.

What I am amazed by is Caleb's usual response..."My favorite part of the day was being with you and Abby and Daddy." It does not matter if we went to the park, spent time with family or even saw Thomas Live-his favorite part always involves time with his family.

When we had our sad loss a little while ago, Abby said to me that night, "This was a good day because we got to sit and cuddle today." Wow. Because I could not motivate myself to do anything when I found out that news, I simply sat on the couch with the kids, cuddled and let them watch television. And in my laziness, my daughter found precious time with her mommy.

I suppose since my kids have reached this "independent" stage, I do not sit and just be with them very often. I am too busy with my "job" as a stay-at-home mom, that I forget the mom part of my title. The laundry, dinner and cleaning can wait-sometimes just sitting around with them is the most constructive thing I can do in a day.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Misplaced Anger

After a week of grieving and emotionally recovering (does that actually happen?), I have been thinking I am okay. When people ask, I say that I am feeling a little more normal and just getting back to life (which has to happen when one is already a parent to two children). However, today I realized I am taking my hurt over what has happened and venting it in other areas.

It has been little things that have irritated me or made me weepy, but the final straw that sent me over the edge was my salad. Yes, food.

I had stopped at the grocery store on my way home from Abby's school today, which in and of itself was not an easy thing to do with two kids at lunch time. There were lots of "I want that!" and "That looks yummy!" Even though I agreed with them, I played the mean mom and kept saying, "Stop asking for stuff-I have no money!" There were probably nicer ways to say "no," but I had completely lost any patience. In my mind, any little complaints or whines have been completely ridiculous compared to the pain we have recently suffered.

The traffic on the way home irritated me, my purse falling over when I made a sharp turn onto our street had me seeing red, and then my salad-my perfect little salad that I had made at the store for lunch-fell over on the kitchen floor. Upside down, lid opened, stuff everywhere.

I immediately burst into tears.

Of course my tears were not really about the salad, but were pent up from trying to be "normal" all week. While I swept up my lunch, I poured out my heart to God (in my mind, not out loud in front of the kids, lest they find their mother crazy-which they probably do anyway). My stream of conscienceness went something like this...

"Why did my salad have to fall...why can't anything go right today...why have I been rushing all morning...why do You keep throwing things at me to mess up my plans...You already took my baby away so why more now?"

That last thought was obviously the root of my tears. I have spent so much time being a "good Christian" and trusting in God and His ways, that I have not spent enough time just being angry with Him. There is a reason that David writes many of the Psalms in anger-IT'S NORMAL!

If I were to understand everything that He does, I would not need Him. I have not a clue as to why our child was taken away so soon, but I know that there is a reason. It does not mean I have to like the reason-in fact, I am pretty mad about it. But, somehow my anger is still bringing me closer to Him. How does that even happen?

There is a reason that Psalm 13 has these conflicting verses in the same chapter...

"How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?...But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your salvation. I will sing to the Lord for He has been good to me."

Monday, December 7, 2009

The One I Never Wanted To Write

It started last Wednesday.

I had some symptoms that made me nervous about the pregnancy. That night, it seemed a little more alarming. I went to the doctor Thursday afternoon to find out what was going on. Unfortunately, I had to take the kids with me since it was a last minute appointment and finding childcare was tricky. Nick was still teaching and coaching, as it was too last minute to find a replacement.

Abby and Caleb were great for me the entire time. They kept all the pregnant women in the waiting room either happy because of the joy in their playing or terrified for what is about to happen in their lives! For a five-year old and a three-year old, I think they were pretty well behaved. Okay, so maybe Caleb let out a couple of his famous farts and Abby was a bit loud at times-what can one expect?

It was quite interesting peeing in a cup with both kids in the room with me. That was a fun one to explain.

The kids listened well and stayed against the wall by my head during my internal exam. Caleb, ever so the boy, kept sneaking up to get a better look, until I would catch him and reach out to stop him. Ladies-picture the position I was in, with the doctor and where her hands were, and me trying to reach out to stop my three-year old son from being traumatized forever with what he might see...yes, it is okay to laugh.

At this point, everything was looking okay. While I was waiting for my ultrasound, the kids decided to play doctor. Abby had brought a baby doll in with her and after watching my exam, they placed the doll on a chair, opened up her diaper and started to "doctor." Yes, it is okay to laugh at this, too.

However, the ultrasound is where this story turns. The kids sat on my left, watching the screen and were so excited to see the baby. I was, too, since that meant something was there. It never occurred to me that anything could be wrong as long as I could see it. I looked at the doctor on my right and asked if everything was okay. She shook her head and mouthed, "No heartbeat."

I believe this was the second time in my life where time just stopped and I was lost in emotions. The first time was when I got the call that my cousin, David, had died unexpectedly. This time, I was struck with so many thoughts that I had no words. Only tears.

The doctor did a great job and took the kids out for candy right away so that I had a few minutes to myself. As if all my tears would end in a few minutes. After sobbing and somehow managing to get dressed, I walked out into the hall to find my kids and cancel my next scheduled appointment. We were supposed to hear the heartbeat on our anniversary.

I explained to the kids in the car what had happened, which was not easy because I still did not believe or understand it myself. Both expressed sadness over not being a big brother or big sister again, but Caleb quickly moved on. He did want to sit and snuggle the entire evening, though. Abby had a tough time-she cried a little bit and cried later that evening as well. She dealt with her grief by making me a picture that explained that the baby was with Jesus.

After some prayer and research, I went in on Friday and had the surgery I never thought I would ever have. It just seemed "easier" than waiting for something to happen on its own. When I woke up, my first thought was what I had just lost and immediately started crying again. All I could do was look at Nick and say, "I'm sorry." Yes, I know I did nothing wrong, but those were the only words I could come up with.

The added fun to all of this was that I had to go across the street to the hospital to get my Rhogam shot (being B- and all). I always have to get it after having my kids and I guess this counts as well. Why they sent me to the labor and delivery floor for the shot is beyond me. Thankfully, we only had to see one new mom and her baby being wheeled out.

After two days of almost non-stop crying, I can finally get through a conversation about it with dry eyes. What has been amazing to me is the support we have received. I have heard one should not share pregancy news until after the first trimester because of reasons like this. However, I do not regret it at all because we have been covered in so much prayer and encouragement that I am blown away.

What I have also been struck by is the number of people this has happened to. Whether old high school friends on facebook, women from church, from camp...from every part of life-so many of them have gone through this. In some ways it has been helpful to hear their stories because I do not feel so alone and they show that life does go on. But, it also makes me ache for their loss as well.

Years ago, I heard Andrew Peterson open for Caedmon's Call at Grove City College, back in his "Who is this guy?" stage. He sang a song called, "Lullaby" that was written for his first child who was a miscarriage. While I cannot seem to find an audio link for the song, here are the lyrics. They are a comfort to me and hopefully anyone else who has experienced this grief.

Well I haven't got a lot to offer
Just a rhyme and a melody
But I promised I would write if it took all night
A melody for thee

Well, they say there ain't no sleeping in Heaven

Baby that don't mean that you can't dream
So when you close your eyes, know your mother and I
Pray the Lord your little soul to keep
And we never got the chance to hold you
And we never got to tell you good night
So we hope you can hear as Jesus cradles you near
Baby, this is your lullaby

Are you running with the angels?
Are you singing with the saints?
Are you throwing a ball against a Heavenly wall?
Maybe swinging on the pearly gate?

And there's so much love between us
So much that I want to say
I wanna ramble awhile with my beautiful child
Baby, I can hardly wait

Baby Rosenfeldt #3-we will meet you someday in Heaven. Your Daddy and I loved you from the moment you were a thought. Your big brother and big sister are very excited to meet you and still pray for you every night. They thank Jesus for you being in our lives for a few weeks and know you are safe now.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Another Germ Story

Caleb and I were driving away from the gym this morning when he confessed something to me. He said, "Mommy, I picked my nose at the gym today." While my mind immediately wondered whether or not the childcare workers caught him in the act, he continued, "I picked it while I was on the slide, but don't worry-I put it on the ground."

Well, good for you, Caleb. Some might use a tissue or at least wipe the remains on their sleeves, but you, my brilliant boy, put it on the floor where other kids were running around in their socks.

Another reason my children wash their hands the moment we walk in the door.