NeverADullMoment
Monday, May 16, 2016
The worst days of my life...
For over 3 and half years, we have struggled with infertility. After countless doctor visit, medical procedures, medicated cycles, iui's and 2 IVF's, we finally got the news that we were pregnant. We celebrated, cried in disbelief, and started to plan our future with another little one, the life we had been praying for.
With our second IVF we had put in 2 embryos. They looked great, were healthy, and the doctor was thrilled to finally be able to give us good news. We had been told for years that we had between a 1 and 4% chance of ever having another baby, and now we had beat the odds.
Or so we thought. A few days after having my pregnancy confirmed, after we told our parents and siblings our news, I felt that something was wrong. I started to bleed and feel cramps that I knew weren't right. That day was Mother's Day.
The next several days were spent in and out of the doctor's office. Blood tests and consultations were only seperate by sadness and bouts of false hope, even denial. My numbers were going down, and they knew I had lost at least one baby, but we hoped that one survived.
Then Friday came. I had my final blood test, but no consultation was scheduled. When I called to get my results, I could hear the nurse's heart drop. She told me she was sorry, but my levels were continuing to drop. She confirmed that I had lost both babies. At 4 and a half weeks along, both of my babies stopped growing. They just stopped.
It was confirmed that I had lost both babies on Mother's day.
Then I had to have one of the most difficult conversations I've ever had, I had to tell Chris what the nurses and my doctor had said. The babies weren't alive anymore, but I had to wait for them to pass, since I'd been on so many hormones. Since he was at work, he couldn't talk long, so we left it at "they're gone." Then I texted my mom and sister in law. My sister in law texted back, but my mom called. As I sat on my bed, telling her what happened, as much as I knew anyways, I just cried. One of those "can't breath", "ugly" cries. But the worst conversation was yet to come.
As I had finally calmed down while talking to my mom, Abby walked in my bedroom. She knew something was wrong and came to sit by me on the bed. Then she asked me directly what was wrong in the most direct way she has ever asked. I looked her in the face and told her the babies passed away. I just watched her heart sink and her mind start going in every direction. She asked, "so am I going to be a big sister?" And through my tears I told her, "no, not this time." She asked if she was ever going to be a big sister, and all I could say was, "I don't know."
Then she went on with her pleading questions. She said, "but why did the doctor tell me.. tell us... why did he say we were going to have a baby?!" "Why did they die?" "But I did my one job!"
We had told her that during the IVF process we each had one job. Mine was to take my medicine and listen to the doctor. Chris had to work to pay for the doctor and our other bills. Abby's "job" was to help me not to stress. She wanted the babies to live so badly that she really tried her best to help me. Sure she had meltdowns every now and then, but she did so good.
I told her that yes she had done her job, and I did mine, and Chris did his, and that it was no one's fault. But she persisted and asked if she would ever be a sister. All I could think to say, as her face welled up, was that for that week that we knew we were pregnant, she was the best big sister.
After that we just sat together and cried for a little while, but she soon decided she wanted to go upstairs and play quietly for a while. I was so grateful that she still wanted to play, but I was heartbroken that she was having all of these emotions.
Friday, May 13th was the worst day of my life. I miscarried my babies on May 8th, but didn't know for sure until the 13th. On May 13th, my world crumbled. My dreams and my hopes of finally beating infertility, finally having a baby, had been crushed. And worst of all, my 5 year old had seen it all. She was there as I did all my injections. She was there for so many appointments. She saw the pictures of the embryos. She experienced the happiness, and then had it ripped away.
May 8th. May 13th. I will forever remember those dates.
Now, it's been a month since I miscarried my babies. They have passed, my hormone levels have leveled off, and I am medically "no longer pregnant." Everyday is a roller coaster of emotions, sometimes I'm angry or bitter, other times I'm just sad. Some days I have to remind myself that it's ok to be sad, it's ok to cry out "why?"
I know that one day, probably, hopefully, soon, I will lay down at night and realize that I didn't cry that day. One day I will be able to see Abby playing with her friends and their siblings, and not completely fall apart.
I never met my babies, but I loved them. I never held them in my arms, but I held them in my body their whole lives, and I will hold them in my heart for the rest of my life. The moment I saw those pink lines, every time I took a test "just to make sure", and in each of those meetings with the doctor checking on them, I loved my babies. I imagined what they would be like, and who they would become. I imagined them playing with Abby, and the amazing big sister she would be.
It took 1265 days of praying, crying, trying with and without medical help, to see those pink lines. It was 1268 days until a doctor finally was happy to tell me my results after a pregnancy test.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
He gives and takes away...
After 1265 days, we finally saw something we never thought we'd see. After over 3 1/2 years, numerous failed medicated cycles, 2 failed iuis and 1 failed ivf cycle, we were finally pregnant. We finally saw those two pink lines we have prayed for for so long.
The next few days were filled with utter happiness. We laughed, we smiled from ear to ear, we let ourselves hope that our painful journey was finally over. We told our parents and siblings.
Then, one day, I saw red. My heart dropped. There wasn't a lot of blood, so I thought maybe it wasn't a miscarriage. Maybe there was hope that I wasn't loosing this dream I had been fighting to hard and so long for, but I knew something was wrong. I hoped I was wrong, but somewhere inside me I knew that something was off.
The next couple of days I was terrified. The bleeding kept up and finally subsided, just before my follow up blood test. That day I thought I got good news; the doctor said my numbers had doubled but he wanted to check again in a few days because they weren't high enough.
When I went back in, I thought maybe I was ok, the bleeding had stopped and I felt a bit better, though still nauseous. As I hadn't heard from the doctor yet, and had been waiting in the waiting room for a while, I looked in my patient portal, the Web page that they input all of your test results. As I sat in the waiting room, I stared at my phone in disbelief and complete heartbreak. My HCG levels had dropped significantly.
I tried to stay strong, since Abby was in the waiting room with me. A few tears slipped out as I went through what the doctor might say.
When they finally called me back, after being sat in the doctor's office, my doctor came in and looked like he might cry. He sat down and asked if I had been bleeding. When I said yes, he looked down. He told me that because of my levels and the fact that I had bleeding, that I had a miscarriage, but our best hope was that both babies implanted but one miscarried while the other was still ok. He said I should be cautiously optimistic and come back in a few days later to check and see if one made it.
That awful M word. The word that I had been dreading ever since we started trying. I lost my baby, but I had to hope I still had one left. I had to be cautiously optimistic.
But hearing the doctor say miscarriage wasn't the worst thing. While it was heartbreaking, it wasn't the hardest part. The most heartbreaking thing was having Abby with me. Since she is 5, and very aware, she has known about the IVF's, and much of what we've gone through to try to have another baby. She was there when we took the pregnancy test, and when we got confirmation from the doctor. She was so excited to be a big sister, she couldn't wait to tell our family.
But that day, in the doctor's office, her little heart sank. She looked at me as I couldn't hold my tears in any more and what was wrong. The only thing I could do was tell her the truth, as much as I could to a 5 year old. I told her we lost of of the babies and we didn't know if the other one was ok. She looked at me, with weapy eyes, and asked if we were still going to have a baby, I said, "I don't know." She asked if she would be a big sister, and I barely choked out, " I don't know."
Now, the shock has passed. The tears are still flowing and fresh, and our hearts still ache. But now we wait. We wait to hear if we've lost both babies, or if we might still have our miracle baby, our rainbow after this horrific storm.
I need my rainbow. I need it for Abby, for Chris. I need it for me.
Now we pray. That's all we can do. Pray and wait...
The next few days were filled with utter happiness. We laughed, we smiled from ear to ear, we let ourselves hope that our painful journey was finally over. We told our parents and siblings.
Then, one day, I saw red. My heart dropped. There wasn't a lot of blood, so I thought maybe it wasn't a miscarriage. Maybe there was hope that I wasn't loosing this dream I had been fighting to hard and so long for, but I knew something was wrong. I hoped I was wrong, but somewhere inside me I knew that something was off.
The next couple of days I was terrified. The bleeding kept up and finally subsided, just before my follow up blood test. That day I thought I got good news; the doctor said my numbers had doubled but he wanted to check again in a few days because they weren't high enough.
When I went back in, I thought maybe I was ok, the bleeding had stopped and I felt a bit better, though still nauseous. As I hadn't heard from the doctor yet, and had been waiting in the waiting room for a while, I looked in my patient portal, the Web page that they input all of your test results. As I sat in the waiting room, I stared at my phone in disbelief and complete heartbreak. My HCG levels had dropped significantly.
I tried to stay strong, since Abby was in the waiting room with me. A few tears slipped out as I went through what the doctor might say.
When they finally called me back, after being sat in the doctor's office, my doctor came in and looked like he might cry. He sat down and asked if I had been bleeding. When I said yes, he looked down. He told me that because of my levels and the fact that I had bleeding, that I had a miscarriage, but our best hope was that both babies implanted but one miscarried while the other was still ok. He said I should be cautiously optimistic and come back in a few days later to check and see if one made it.
That awful M word. The word that I had been dreading ever since we started trying. I lost my baby, but I had to hope I still had one left. I had to be cautiously optimistic.
But hearing the doctor say miscarriage wasn't the worst thing. While it was heartbreaking, it wasn't the hardest part. The most heartbreaking thing was having Abby with me. Since she is 5, and very aware, she has known about the IVF's, and much of what we've gone through to try to have another baby. She was there when we took the pregnancy test, and when we got confirmation from the doctor. She was so excited to be a big sister, she couldn't wait to tell our family.
But that day, in the doctor's office, her little heart sank. She looked at me as I couldn't hold my tears in any more and what was wrong. The only thing I could do was tell her the truth, as much as I could to a 5 year old. I told her we lost of of the babies and we didn't know if the other one was ok. She looked at me, with weapy eyes, and asked if we were still going to have a baby, I said, "I don't know." She asked if she would be a big sister, and I barely choked out, " I don't know."
Now, the shock has passed. The tears are still flowing and fresh, and our hearts still ache. But now we wait. We wait to hear if we've lost both babies, or if we might still have our miracle baby, our rainbow after this horrific storm.
I need my rainbow. I need it for Abby, for Chris. I need it for me.
Now we pray. That's all we can do. Pray and wait...
Thursday, March 31, 2016
To my baby...
I've dreamed of you for years. We've prayed for you, cried for you, even begged for you. But God knew His timing and His will.
The last three and a half years have been the hardest years I've ever been through. We've seen countless doctors, have been constantly monitored, and even had to had a few surgeries, but we are still waiting for you.
Some days I can picture what you might look like, the way you might play with Abby and become each other's lifetime friends. I picture how you might look like me, or maybe even your dad. I dream of holding you in my arms and kissing you as you sleep. I envision all the ways that we would love you and all the different things you might accomplish. I dream of a future for you, even though you are just a dream.
Some days I can picture you, but other days I can't. It seems that some days I just can't picture having you here with us. I can't find it in my mind, I can't find you. I feel like I'm wandering, hoping, pleading, searching for you. There are days when all I can do is remember the names we have picked out for you and the empty room we have saved for you.
Oh, that room. That room that we moved Abby out of when she was a year and a half to make room for you. The room that I had to repaint while in tears when we sold that first house. That room I said goodbye to you in so many times. That room I prayed in, fought in, craved in, and sometimes just sat silently in. That lonely room that I held onto so tightly, hoping that you would one day fill it, but that day didn't come in that house. Then that room became the "spare room" in the new house. I always dreamed it would be for you, keeping the crib set up, ready to receive you at anytime. But you didn't come. Other babies slept there, but not you. Other babies cried out for their mother's in that room, in that crib, but those cries weren't from you, and they weren't for me.
How many times did I sit there, stand there, or lie there? How many times did I shout out at God that it wasn't, isn't fair? How many times did I have to be alone?
With every pregnancy announcement, big brother or big sister announcement, baby shower, or birth announcement I cried. Well, at first I cried. Slowly, very slowly, through the years I stopped crying so much. It was no longer every announcement. It was now only some. But those that got to me, those that made me remember you, those were the ones that I cried for. It was a kind of cry that I couldn't hold back and that no one could console me. I just had to cry. Sometimes for a few minutes. Sometimes for days.
All I knew, all I know, is that with every injection, with every pill, ultrasound, blood test, surgery, and suppository, I would think to myself that if it would bring me you it would all be worth it. Every time we drained our bank account, or would be going through a hard time because the stress was too much. Every time, I would think, "This will all be worth it if it brings me my miracle baby, my dream." And every time it didn't work, every time I got worse, every time we felt like giving up on everything, every time, I just wanted to give up hope. I just wanted to stop. I wanted to stop hoping and crying. I wanted to stop being sad.
But every time, I couldn't. No matter how hard we tried to forget about you, we couldn't. Every time we said, "Enough!" It was never really over. Sometimes we would be able to take a break for a bit. Maybe a month or two would go by, and we would feel like we were getting back to normal, though we didn't know what normal was anymore. No matter how hard we tried to forget, we always remembered how much we wanted you.
Three and a half years. Three and a half years filled with failed medicated cycles, failed IUI's, failed "natural remedies." Three and a half years of living in a fog. Over 1200 days of going through life, just simply surviving.
Yes, there were good times. There were many days, weeks, even sometimes months, when we were able to laugh. We were able to put on a brave face and look life square and say "I've got this!" Most of it was just a brave face, but after faking it for so long, we didn't have to remind ourselves to put on our brave faces anymore. We found ourselves automatically putting on a smile, laughing, making plans, and having fun.
We laughed with Abby. We found joy in our present life. Though we always dreamed of you, especially in those moments that we found ourselves in a quiet room, sometimes, that room, we tried to find ways to still live. We went on vacations. We went on adventures. We started our own traditions and made a lot of changes.
Abby grew up. She was no longer a baby herself. She started going to school, and started leaving her daycare days behind her. She always asked why she couldn't have a baby brother or sister, like her friends and cousins, so we had to explain, as best we could, why you hadn't joined us. We didn't know if you would ever come. She constantly prayed for you too. Hoping that she would be a big sister soon. Hoping that she could hold you in her arms. Dreaming of teaching you all of her "wisdom", like how to say "mommy" and "I love you." And she knows that we have been praying and crying for you. She knows because she went to most of my appointments, and because she had to go through the aftermath of my surgeries and failed cycles.
This time we are hoping it's different. This time we know you were given life. Through all the hurdles, you survived this far. You beat out the other embryos, and you made it. I just hope your holding on tight in there. I hope your growing big and strong. I hope your healthy and that I will get to meet you in nine months. I hope you are our miracle baby.
Just hold on. Don't let go. Just, please, don't let go! I need you to be strong. I need you to hold on tight. I'm trying to be strong out here. I'm trying to hold on to the hope that I might get to meet you one day. I'm trying to be strong for everyone, but I need you to be strong. I can be strong for Abby, so that she doesn't get too sad. I can be strong for your daddy, so that he can not be stressed. But I can't be strong for you. Not yet. You have to be strong for me. You have to hold on, and be strong, so that I can be strong for you later.
I have no control over what's going on. It's you and God. Just you and God.
Please hold on. Please don't give up.
The last three and a half years have been the hardest years I've ever been through. We've seen countless doctors, have been constantly monitored, and even had to had a few surgeries, but we are still waiting for you.
Some days I can picture what you might look like, the way you might play with Abby and become each other's lifetime friends. I picture how you might look like me, or maybe even your dad. I dream of holding you in my arms and kissing you as you sleep. I envision all the ways that we would love you and all the different things you might accomplish. I dream of a future for you, even though you are just a dream.
Some days I can picture you, but other days I can't. It seems that some days I just can't picture having you here with us. I can't find it in my mind, I can't find you. I feel like I'm wandering, hoping, pleading, searching for you. There are days when all I can do is remember the names we have picked out for you and the empty room we have saved for you.
Oh, that room. That room that we moved Abby out of when she was a year and a half to make room for you. The room that I had to repaint while in tears when we sold that first house. That room I said goodbye to you in so many times. That room I prayed in, fought in, craved in, and sometimes just sat silently in. That lonely room that I held onto so tightly, hoping that you would one day fill it, but that day didn't come in that house. Then that room became the "spare room" in the new house. I always dreamed it would be for you, keeping the crib set up, ready to receive you at anytime. But you didn't come. Other babies slept there, but not you. Other babies cried out for their mother's in that room, in that crib, but those cries weren't from you, and they weren't for me.
How many times did I sit there, stand there, or lie there? How many times did I shout out at God that it wasn't, isn't fair? How many times did I have to be alone?
With every pregnancy announcement, big brother or big sister announcement, baby shower, or birth announcement I cried. Well, at first I cried. Slowly, very slowly, through the years I stopped crying so much. It was no longer every announcement. It was now only some. But those that got to me, those that made me remember you, those were the ones that I cried for. It was a kind of cry that I couldn't hold back and that no one could console me. I just had to cry. Sometimes for a few minutes. Sometimes for days.
All I knew, all I know, is that with every injection, with every pill, ultrasound, blood test, surgery, and suppository, I would think to myself that if it would bring me you it would all be worth it. Every time we drained our bank account, or would be going through a hard time because the stress was too much. Every time, I would think, "This will all be worth it if it brings me my miracle baby, my dream." And every time it didn't work, every time I got worse, every time we felt like giving up on everything, every time, I just wanted to give up hope. I just wanted to stop. I wanted to stop hoping and crying. I wanted to stop being sad.
But every time, I couldn't. No matter how hard we tried to forget about you, we couldn't. Every time we said, "Enough!" It was never really over. Sometimes we would be able to take a break for a bit. Maybe a month or two would go by, and we would feel like we were getting back to normal, though we didn't know what normal was anymore. No matter how hard we tried to forget, we always remembered how much we wanted you.
Three and a half years. Three and a half years filled with failed medicated cycles, failed IUI's, failed "natural remedies." Three and a half years of living in a fog. Over 1200 days of going through life, just simply surviving.
Yes, there were good times. There were many days, weeks, even sometimes months, when we were able to laugh. We were able to put on a brave face and look life square and say "I've got this!" Most of it was just a brave face, but after faking it for so long, we didn't have to remind ourselves to put on our brave faces anymore. We found ourselves automatically putting on a smile, laughing, making plans, and having fun.
We laughed with Abby. We found joy in our present life. Though we always dreamed of you, especially in those moments that we found ourselves in a quiet room, sometimes, that room, we tried to find ways to still live. We went on vacations. We went on adventures. We started our own traditions and made a lot of changes.
Abby grew up. She was no longer a baby herself. She started going to school, and started leaving her daycare days behind her. She always asked why she couldn't have a baby brother or sister, like her friends and cousins, so we had to explain, as best we could, why you hadn't joined us. We didn't know if you would ever come. She constantly prayed for you too. Hoping that she would be a big sister soon. Hoping that she could hold you in her arms. Dreaming of teaching you all of her "wisdom", like how to say "mommy" and "I love you." And she knows that we have been praying and crying for you. She knows because she went to most of my appointments, and because she had to go through the aftermath of my surgeries and failed cycles.
This time we are hoping it's different. This time we know you were given life. Through all the hurdles, you survived this far. You beat out the other embryos, and you made it. I just hope your holding on tight in there. I hope your growing big and strong. I hope your healthy and that I will get to meet you in nine months. I hope you are our miracle baby.
Just hold on. Don't let go. Just, please, don't let go! I need you to be strong. I need you to hold on tight. I'm trying to be strong out here. I'm trying to hold on to the hope that I might get to meet you one day. I'm trying to be strong for everyone, but I need you to be strong. I can be strong for Abby, so that she doesn't get too sad. I can be strong for your daddy, so that he can not be stressed. But I can't be strong for you. Not yet. You have to be strong for me. You have to hold on, and be strong, so that I can be strong for you later.
I have no control over what's going on. It's you and God. Just you and God.
Please hold on. Please don't give up.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
My List of Fun Free or Cheap Things To Do in Houston
I've had the privilege of staying home with our one and only now for 4 and a half years. Though I tried to go back to work a few times, it ended up being better for our family for me to stay home. So being that we were on one income, I wanted to be sure to be respectful of how hard my husband worked by being mindful of how much I was spending.
Thankfully, I was able, through random google searches, other wise moms, and pinterest, to find lots of fun and free, or cheap, things to do as a stay at home mom. In fact, I kept so busy that I often joke that I am actually a "stay-out-of-the-home mom." ;)
Without further ado, here are some of the things/places I've found:
-Zoo: They have a splash pad that is great for hot summer days (you need a membership, but it's cheap and if you use it, it more than pays for itself quickly)
-Children's Museum (you can get a membership...or... you can get a FREE library card and do "flip kits" and get FREE passes)
-Flip Kits from Houston Public Library: these are fun books with coordinating activities/crafts, plus you get a free 4 pass to Children's Museum when you complete the survey.
-Toddler Tuesday at Discovery Green: FREE event for little ones through preschoolers. They do storytime, a craft, and usually have characters and other activities.
-Scavenger hunt downtown: you can find lists online... just google ;)
-Houston Mom's Blog activities
- Museums:
-These are always FREE:
-Asia Society Texas Center (all spaces except Louisa Stude Sarofim Gallery)
-Contemporary Arts Museum.
-HoustonDiverseWorks (Gallery Space)
-Houston Center for Contemporary Craft
-Houston Center for Photography
-The Jung Center
-Lawndale Art Center
-The Menil Collection
-Rice University Art Gallery
-Rothko Chapel
- These museums are FREE certain times:
-Buffalo Soldiers National Museum – FREE Thursday 1-5pm
-Children’s Museum of Houston – FREE Thursday 5-8pm
-Czech Center Museum Houston – FREE last Monday of the month 12-4pm
-The Health Museum – FREE Thursday 2-7pm
-Holocaust Museum Houston – FREE Thursday 2-5pm
-Houston Museum of African American Culture – FREE Thursday 6-8pm
-Houston Museum of Natural Science – Permanent Exhibit Halls FREE Thursday 3-6pm
-The Houston Zoo offers free admission to guests on the first Tuesday of each month, September through May, from 12:00 p.m. until closing.
-The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston – FREE Thursday 10am–9pm
Also, one thing I learned to love and use often was Groupon. They often have great deals at local play places, like Stomping Grounds and Pump It Up.
There are so many more, but this post would never end. The best advice I was given was "Get out there!" If you want to get out with your kiddos, just do it. Go to a park and have a picnic, or find some ducks to feed. Make a friend with a community, or backyard, pool and have pool days.
Whatever you do, have fun and love on your baby(ies
Thankfully, I was able, through random google searches, other wise moms, and pinterest, to find lots of fun and free, or cheap, things to do as a stay at home mom. In fact, I kept so busy that I often joke that I am actually a "stay-out-of-the-home mom." ;)
Without further ado, here are some of the things/places I've found:
-Zoo: They have a splash pad that is great for hot summer days (you need a membership, but it's cheap and if you use it, it more than pays for itself quickly)
-Children's Museum (you can get a membership...or... you can get a FREE library card and do "flip kits" and get FREE passes)
-Flip Kits from Houston Public Library: these are fun books with coordinating activities/crafts, plus you get a free 4 pass to Children's Museum when you complete the survey.
-Toddler Tuesday at Discovery Green: FREE event for little ones through preschoolers. They do storytime, a craft, and usually have characters and other activities.
-Scavenger hunt downtown: you can find lists online... just google ;)
-Houston Mom's Blog activities
- Museums:
-These are always FREE:
-Asia Society Texas Center (all spaces except Louisa Stude Sarofim Gallery)
-Contemporary Arts Museum.
-HoustonDiverseWorks (Gallery Space)
-Houston Center for Contemporary Craft
-Houston Center for Photography
-The Jung Center
-Lawndale Art Center
-The Menil Collection
-Rice University Art Gallery
-Rothko Chapel
- These museums are FREE certain times:
-Buffalo Soldiers National Museum – FREE Thursday 1-5pm
-Children’s Museum of Houston – FREE Thursday 5-8pm
-Czech Center Museum Houston – FREE last Monday of the month 12-4pm
-The Health Museum – FREE Thursday 2-7pm
-Holocaust Museum Houston – FREE Thursday 2-5pm
-Houston Museum of African American Culture – FREE Thursday 6-8pm
-Houston Museum of Natural Science – Permanent Exhibit Halls FREE Thursday 3-6pm
-The Houston Zoo offers free admission to guests on the first Tuesday of each month, September through May, from 12:00 p.m. until closing.
-The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston – FREE Thursday 10am–9pm
Also, one thing I learned to love and use often was Groupon. They often have great deals at local play places, like Stomping Grounds and Pump It Up.
There are so many more, but this post would never end. The best advice I was given was "Get out there!" If you want to get out with your kiddos, just do it. Go to a park and have a picnic, or find some ducks to feed. Make a friend with a community, or backyard, pool and have pool days.
Whatever you do, have fun and love on your baby(ies
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8-tLQIL8USm9UC8SJq4AuErDc_uef-rA3ZMg0w4gVZCczdOAtI8mkhFzEGIY5fzIs2LpMtkxIRBGrz8uQdbkSlq5foZIZlURie_3Z1VGu0CY-ogQVBo_iT7UVN76NxNxHlDRxwwq-OPJ/s320/pig.gif)
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Stay At Home VBS
We were all so stoked for VBS this year, but when we found out that I would have a surgery the week before our church had their VBS, our plans changed. I thought I would still be able to do VBS with our church until the Friday before, when I admitted to myself, and my family, that I wasn't going to be able to do it.
Since I was barely able to walk for the first half of our "Stay At Home VBS", most of these activities are easy to do/prep sitting in a recliner.
Thankfully, Lifeway has their curriculum, to a certain extent, on their blog. Mix that, Pinterest, and a little imagination, and we were on our way "Off The Map." (That was the theme for this year...)
So here is our week!
Day 1
Making her bag to hold all of her treasures for the week
With scrap material I had laying around, I cut and sewed together a vest.
My little explorer!
Making Binoculars
Ready to go!
Picking leaves and twigs
Art project with colored bubbles (food coloring and bubble mix)
We even watched the music video for the day via YouTube
Her first badge was a campfire (all you need is sharpies, cardstock, glue and scissors)
For memorizing her Bible verse for the week, she got a badge!
Day 2
Making a compass because we "Follow" our guide ;)
Next we made a rain stick for our "adventure walks"
All you need for this is a paper towel tube, rice, tape, stickers and markers
Next she made her badge for the day.... a compass
Day 3
First up, we made a firefly sun catcher. (we used cardboard, scissors, white glue, water, saran wrap, and tissue paper)
I cut 2 identical silhouettes of a dragon fly, one for the front, one for the back, with 2 saran wrap pieces, and the wet tissue paper in the middle.
And of course, a dragon fly badge!
Day 4 and 5 (we combined them)
She made a lion badge (because we learned about Daniel and the lions) and a cross with a heart badge (because Jesus cares for us)
And That was our week!
Friday, June 5, 2015
Reward Chore Chart
We've gone through our fair share of reward charts, sticker charts, chore charts, etc... This time I wanted something that would last, and something that wasn't completely an eye sore.
In come Pinterest!! As usual, I combined several ideas to make something that would fit our family best. (Because really, that's what Pinterest is for.. right?)
I really liked the idea of a magnet board, so that it is reusable. I also like the look of wood and chalkboards. So here's what I came up with!!
Making it was super easy! Here is what I used:
-An old cookie sheet
-1 can of chalkboard spray paint (I also used chalk markers..)
-1 pack of small round, adhesive backed magnets
-1 pack of wood circles (they call them nickels?)
-Wax paper
-Printer
-Google
-Imagination!
I sprayed my cookie sheet and drew my lines and letters. Then, meaning a week later, I got on my computer and designed the "buttons". Once they were all designed, I placed the magnets on the wood circles and printed the designs (flipped) on wax paper (I taped my wax paper to regular paper to keep the wax paper from rolling). After I had my designs printed out, I cut each design and carefully placed each individually on a circle. (***Be careful for this.. once you place the design, DON'T MOVE IT! it will smudge like crazy) Once the design is placed on the circle, press firmly on the design until the design is properly transferred.
Voila! Done!
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