Most girls I know love all the fairy tales and princess stories. They fantasize about all the ever afters and wonder at the ability to find true love and their very own prince charming. They want to dress up like Cinderella and to feel special. But sometimes they also need the balance to understand that a princess is not in charge; the queen and king are still in authority over her.
My daughters are no exception. They both want to dress pretty and wear fingernail polish and bows. They love to wear crowns and rings and necklaces. They love to twirl around in their dresses, allowing the skirts to flow fully as they spin in delight.
Recently, we bought a Cinderella dress up outfit for Gabriela. She loves that dress with all her heart and never wants to take it off. She dances and sways and swirls with unbridled joy and innocence to the tune that is playing in her mind. At a young 2 1/2, this girl loves to accessorize and to make everything look absolutely perfect in her eyes; she even searches for just the perfect pieces and shoes to complete her look.
About a week ago, she tried desperately to sleep in that full dress. But the lace in it was stiff and made it difficult for her to lay down comfortably. She knew she was a princess and nothing was going to sway her from dressing like one, even in her sleep, regardless of the scratchiness of her clothing. The problem was that there was no way she was going to be able to sleep in that beautiful gown, not even in the bed and arms of her beloved Grandma.
So I devised a plan that would hopefully allow them both to rest peacefully. I went in her room and searched in her drawer for a special little nightgown that we had found on sale. It was an adorable little piece that had a crown on the bodice and a long, flowing skirt that was soft as a baby's skin. It reminded me a little of Sleeping Beauty's dress. I said a short prayer for help as I walked back into the room where she was trying desperately to get comfortable enough to sleep.
I said to her, "Gabriela, baby, you make a beautiful princess!"
"Yes, I do!"
"Princesses need to get a good night of sleep just like every other little girl." She just stared at me, eyes rolling as she was so sleepy, but agreeing with me. "So even though you love this blue dress, it was not made to sleep in."
"But I want to wear my princess dress!" she insisted softly.
"I know you do, sweet pea, but this dress is rough and hard to sleep in. But I have a special little dress that is made for a princess. But you can only wear it to bed. It is not made to play in. Would you like to wear this special princess nightgown?"
With baited breath, both my mother and myself watched Gabriela's face as she surveyed the soft material in front of her, uncertain. Then, we saw the gleam in her eye as she noticed the little silver design right in front. We knew the deal had been done.
"A crown! It is a princess dress! OK. I can wear that," she said contentedly as she let us help her out of the blue gown and into the pink. She was sound asleep within 5 minutes.
Now, I realize that even if she hadn't agreed, I would have had to insist that she take off the first dress and put her into her pajamas, but I was so glad when she readily agreed and put on the night shift. Even though she was hesitant at first, I was able to coax her with kindness to get her to obey for her own good so my precious Gabriela would get a good night's sleep, not to mention my mother and I.
I do truly hope that both of my girls grow up to be the princesses that I see inside of them. I want them to grow in confidence and maturity. I want them to have a good sense of self worth, as well as an observant eye of kindness toward others. I want them to be able to find their prince charming. Part of that comes due to the positive character that they develop in life. Part of that comes by learning obedience to that which is right, for only one who has been subject to, and submissive to those in good authority over her can truly learn to respect and move into the position of becoming a great queen one day herself.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
Roly Polies and Butterflies
As a little girl, I loved playing in the dirt. I loved to dig out the worms and play with them. I loved all the little creatures out there. I even had a little house that I filled with dirt and roly polies that I carried back to my room so they could live with me. They would crawl in my hand and on my arm freely, but if I tried to get hold of them with my fingers, they would roll into a little ball in my hand. I would patiently wait until they felt the danger was gone, and then they would start crawling again.
I also loved to watch the butterflies when they came near. Sometimes, if I was patient, one would land on my shoulder, hand, or head. I tried to conceal my joy, so as not to frighten them, for if I so much as moved, they would flitter away. They have always been such a delight to me.
Little did I know that years later, roly polies and butterflies would take on a whole new meaning for me. I was a grown woman, and even though I still enjoyed the occasional roly poly, I no longer went digging for them. And even though I still delighted in the butterflies, I no longer sat in wait for them. I just pleasured as they happened along.
I was pregnant with Nyssa, approximately 28weeks along when I had some tests done. Now, any woman in the USA who has had a doctor's care while pregnant in the last 15 years at least, know the specific tests to which I am referring. I had to drink this icky orange drink to determine my glucose tolerance. Unfortunately for me, I failed. How did this happen? I hadn't even gained 5 pounds as I had had morning (and evening and late night) sickness for 4 months straight now.
The next step was simple: at 29 weeks along, I had to go to a lab and have my blood drawn. First, I had to fast for 12 hours....at 29 weeks...shall we say starvation here? I had to drink the syrup. There is no other name for it, pure sugar with a little carbonation, I suppose to make it more bearable, but it tasted pathetic, no less. Then I had to wait for an hour.
Next, a nurse drew my blood. It was painfully hard, as my veins were small and about dehydrated, and were being very difficult. It took the nurse 4 times sticking that needle in, moving it around, taking it back out, and frowning, to get to the veins so she could draw blood. Then, I had to wait 2 more hours and the same thing...with nothing to eat or drink between. Then, another hour, same thing, and another hour. By time the last drawing of the blood, I was hungry, the baby was hungry, I was thirsty, and I was irritable.
This nurse was so sweet, though, and helped my curmudgeonly mood to calm somewhat. Before sticking me with her needle, she had that tourniquet at the bottom of my bicep and was tapping the inside of my arm.
"Oh, Lordy," she said, "Poor thing. You don't have any veins left. You and that baby are just plumb dry."
Finally someone understands, I thought.
"We just gotta deal with some roly polies and butterflies!" she said ever so sweetly, and went to grab a needle to suck the remaining blood out of my arm.
Now, I just looked at her like she was the craziest thing on this earth, but I laughed at her comment and asked what she meant.
"Well, Mrs. Dunlap, your veins are just like roly polies. They're rolling around, not knowing which way to go. I've got just the thing that will help me get one in just a single stick. Don't you worry, none." Then she held up the tiniest needle I have ever seen. "This is a butterfly."
Sure enough, it looked like a butterfly, with the plastic edges sticking out so far away from the needle. She further explained that it was a needle usually reserved for children because the bigger needles can poke through their veins. She swabbed alcohol on my arm and faster than I could brace for the stick, the needle was in and the blood was flowing.
Ever since then, whenever I've had to go through a blood test (diabetes runs in my family, so we have to check it every year), I sit down and say to the lab technician, "roly polies and butterflies." They give me the same look I must have given that one sweet lady 8 years ago, and then I explain. Sure enough, when they check my vein, they agree and give me the butterfly.
It's interesting. My veins were just like those roly polies that were in plain sight if left alone, but would try to roll up and hide when someone tried to touch them. That butterfly, just like it's insect counterpart, was light and painless as I just sat still, waiting for it to flutter away. It happened again this morning, when I went in for a cervical injection. They had to put an IV in my hand and the nurse watched my little vein roll away. I smiled and just said, "roly polies and butterflies." We both had a laugh afterwards. But boy, am I ever so grateful for those butterflies when I've got roly polies hanging around!
I also loved to watch the butterflies when they came near. Sometimes, if I was patient, one would land on my shoulder, hand, or head. I tried to conceal my joy, so as not to frighten them, for if I so much as moved, they would flitter away. They have always been such a delight to me.
Little did I know that years later, roly polies and butterflies would take on a whole new meaning for me. I was a grown woman, and even though I still enjoyed the occasional roly poly, I no longer went digging for them. And even though I still delighted in the butterflies, I no longer sat in wait for them. I just pleasured as they happened along.
I was pregnant with Nyssa, approximately 28weeks along when I had some tests done. Now, any woman in the USA who has had a doctor's care while pregnant in the last 15 years at least, know the specific tests to which I am referring. I had to drink this icky orange drink to determine my glucose tolerance. Unfortunately for me, I failed. How did this happen? I hadn't even gained 5 pounds as I had had morning (and evening and late night) sickness for 4 months straight now.
The next step was simple: at 29 weeks along, I had to go to a lab and have my blood drawn. First, I had to fast for 12 hours....at 29 weeks...shall we say starvation here? I had to drink the syrup. There is no other name for it, pure sugar with a little carbonation, I suppose to make it more bearable, but it tasted pathetic, no less. Then I had to wait for an hour.
Next, a nurse drew my blood. It was painfully hard, as my veins were small and about dehydrated, and were being very difficult. It took the nurse 4 times sticking that needle in, moving it around, taking it back out, and frowning, to get to the veins so she could draw blood. Then, I had to wait 2 more hours and the same thing...with nothing to eat or drink between. Then, another hour, same thing, and another hour. By time the last drawing of the blood, I was hungry, the baby was hungry, I was thirsty, and I was irritable.
This nurse was so sweet, though, and helped my curmudgeonly mood to calm somewhat. Before sticking me with her needle, she had that tourniquet at the bottom of my bicep and was tapping the inside of my arm.
"Oh, Lordy," she said, "Poor thing. You don't have any veins left. You and that baby are just plumb dry."
Finally someone understands, I thought.
"We just gotta deal with some roly polies and butterflies!" she said ever so sweetly, and went to grab a needle to suck the remaining blood out of my arm.
Now, I just looked at her like she was the craziest thing on this earth, but I laughed at her comment and asked what she meant.
"Well, Mrs. Dunlap, your veins are just like roly polies. They're rolling around, not knowing which way to go. I've got just the thing that will help me get one in just a single stick. Don't you worry, none." Then she held up the tiniest needle I have ever seen. "This is a butterfly."
Sure enough, it looked like a butterfly, with the plastic edges sticking out so far away from the needle. She further explained that it was a needle usually reserved for children because the bigger needles can poke through their veins. She swabbed alcohol on my arm and faster than I could brace for the stick, the needle was in and the blood was flowing.
Ever since then, whenever I've had to go through a blood test (diabetes runs in my family, so we have to check it every year), I sit down and say to the lab technician, "roly polies and butterflies." They give me the same look I must have given that one sweet lady 8 years ago, and then I explain. Sure enough, when they check my vein, they agree and give me the butterfly.
It's interesting. My veins were just like those roly polies that were in plain sight if left alone, but would try to roll up and hide when someone tried to touch them. That butterfly, just like it's insect counterpart, was light and painless as I just sat still, waiting for it to flutter away. It happened again this morning, when I went in for a cervical injection. They had to put an IV in my hand and the nurse watched my little vein roll away. I smiled and just said, "roly polies and butterflies." We both had a laugh afterwards. But boy, am I ever so grateful for those butterflies when I've got roly polies hanging around!
Sunday, March 11, 2012
My Reason to be Thankful
Yesterday, I lay in my bed with so much to do and yet realized it must remain undone by myself. Not allowed to do so much as wipe a kitchen counter, I have found myself getting more and more frustrated with my current situation. I have four darling children and a husband who loves me, and yet I spent all but an hour and a half in bed. My mother had to do my job; I was having a lovely little pity party with my aches and pains.
And then I got slapped in the face with a harsh reality. My littlest daughter, only barely 2 1/2, wanted to come see me. But she wouldn't come to my bed because she thought I was sleeping and did not want to disturb me. When she finally did fall asleep, my mother brought Gabriela and lay her in bed next to me. Wheneve she started to stir, I just put my finger in the palm of her hand, and she would close it around my finger. Now that may not sound like such a big deal to anybody else, but to me it meant the world!
And then I got slapped in the face with a harsh reality. My littlest daughter, only barely 2 1/2, wanted to come see me. But she wouldn't come to my bed because she thought I was sleeping and did not want to disturb me. When she finally did fall asleep, my mother brought Gabriela and lay her in bed next to me. Wheneve she started to stir, I just put my finger in the palm of her hand, and she would close it around my finger. Now that may not sound like such a big deal to anybody else, but to me it meant the world!
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