Church of Amanda Issues Its First Newsletter

It's Sunday again, and I'm not in church.

I've always been a firm believer of the mantra "Going to church makes you as much of a Christian as going to a garage makes you an automobile", but obviously church serves a purpose.

When I was little, my mom hauled my sister and I to church every single Sunday. My dad stayed home and did whatever it was he did when my mom was off toting us from one commitment to another...

It was a smaller church, but not too small. I can vividly picture the sanctuary and it's high wooden beam ceiling, the green carpet and the communion alter. I'd be able to pick out the play kitchen without quibble in a line-up of hundreds. I still remember the smell.

When I was a little older, around 10 probably, I remember it being my turn as an Acolyte and I was over the moon. I got to play a special part. I got to wear a special robe. I got to LIGHT A CANDLE!

A lot of my fonder memories as a young child stem from that church - the gym and dodge ball, my first Pre-K "performance" program (I was Summer (maybe Spring, mom?), we did the seasons - and my mom searched for DAYS for the perfect little outfit. It was a pink and white stripped dress).

I wandered around one day and discovered the church had a library! EEK! Nerd Alert: I scanned those shelves for what seemed to be an eternity.

My point here is, as I've said before, that church was home. People knew me and my family, I was comfortable, I was involved and it was a place to learn about the Lord.

Many of you pointed out in my Church of Amanda post that you feel similar to how I feel about finding and being comfortable in a church. If you aren't comfortable or if you are pressured then picking a church becomes much more difficult... and it feels impossible.

Should I attend some place every Sunday with my kids (and husband) in tow just because it's the right action? I don't believe so.

When Michael and I became engaged, we started going to church again and he left a church on 280 (in Birmingham) that he enjoyed but was more contemporary, and I'm an old-school gal. It wasn't a problem for him because the church we were switching to was the church he grew up in (Mountain Brook Baptist) and the Senior Pastor was such an amazing man.

So, we were baptized to join (my first actual baptismal as I had been Christened as a baby (Methodist). That was the first time I felt at "home" again in a church. The pastor was an amazing man, and still plays a major role in our lives as well as the boys (both boys have been "presented" to the church, and in a private ceremony, this BAPTIST minister CHRISTENED my boys... he's that amazing).

I never thought I could feel the same way I felt about my first church at another place - but this church sure fit the bill. No, it was the denomination of my choosing, but in the right church that doesn't matter. This place put very little (to no...) emphasis on the "baptist" part and more effort into being just a place to openly worship the Lord.

I found it so comforting.

And then, we moved here. As I mentioned in the Church of Amanda post, I have accepted the idea that we won't be going to a building with other people worshipping simultaneously, but rather attempting to raise the boys in a Christian atmosphere in our home.

It's just... so dang hard. I fear that the boys will not know of amazing Sunday School teachers and stories from the Bible (as they tell them). They won't practically pass out when they get a part in the church play or a job passing the offering plate. There's no hallways to explore or libraries to find. Yes, God is here in our home, but it's not the same... in some ways.

The Grandparents, both sets, keep bringing up that the "boys need to be in church". My question though is "why?". Because you want them to be involved? Well, Conner goes to school there and in a year, so will Chase. Because it's the "right thing to do" ? What if we aren't comfortable? THEN is it the right thing to do?

The best reason: Because you want to make sure they have a relationship with God? THAT I get - and agree completely.

In parenting, the fears are innumerable, but the fear of my children growing up without a Church Home definitely carries a lot of weight.

I'm praying that we find some balance.

I'm praying that we can raise the boys to the best of our abilities.

And to be completely honest? I'm praying we get to go back home sometime soon.

(And on a lighter note: Make sure and enter the Pitter Pat House giveaway hosted by The Mom Job... just click the image in the top of the left sidebar - maximum 4 entries per person and it ends this Friday!!)

Day One And I'm Thankful

So, Day One isn't exactly how I had this whole Vacay For Sanity planned out, but the lesson in that is clear: NOTHING in life (especially with The Mom Job) is on your schedule.

Chase has run a mild fever for over a week now as all 4 of his 1-year molars are coming through. He's been generally cranky.

Then, Monday night post-bath - Chase is in pain and it's more than obvious. He is more than hot to the touch. Luckily, I am with the in-laws which happens to contain a doctor. Dr-in-law, as I refer to him, quickly calls in an antibiotic, Michael and him go to the 24-hour CVS and get a thermometer, MORE ibuprofen (we should buy stock) and the Rx.

And... we wait. The next day, I am expecting a child with less fever (say.. oh... I don't know.. my expectations were for it to be less than.. say... 103.6!). Instead, I have a child who will NOT let go of me, is curled over in pain, won't eat, won't drink, and is fighting his meds. The day's plans (which were going to be AWESOMMMMMEEE) were quickly trashed and there I am, holding Chase wondering if I really could scramble an egg on his chest...

Next dose of antibiotics comes and goes... we get back to Montgomery without Conner and the evening is a breeze aside from putting my house back together.

I put Chase in bed, blog and turn out the lights.

I can't sleep and it's then that I realize it's not because Michael is snoring... that noise keeping me from La-La Land is none other than Chase, moaning in pain.

Fever - 104

.......

Fever - 103

.......

Fever - 104

.......

It's 7 AM and he's BURNING through Tylenol and Ibuprofen. While in a luke warm (mostly cold) bath, his auxiliary temp reads 102.9. In the NICU, I learned that auxiliary (under the arm or forehead) temps need a degree added to them. So, we are talking about a child who is not breaking a 104 fever WHILE medicated AND SITTING in the cool bath.

Dehydrated, delirious and completely limp, we haul him the the pediatrician.

Chest x-rays, blood work, throat swab - white cell count is double what it should be. He's dehydrated, but we decide that if he'll nurse (that's right - BREASTFEEDING an almost 18-month-old. SHOCK AND AWE), that would save us a hospital trip. He nurses, his temp falls to 102, and we wait.

(So SEE, my not having him totally weaned SAVED HIM A HOSPITAL TRIP. Eat THAT. (note: he was down to ONE TINY feeding until Monday... darn it.) )

Strep - positive, BUT he's been on antibiotics for 36-hours. He shouldn't be testing positive for Strep unless this is a very aggressive strand. He gets an antibiotic shot (BIG SHOT, sheesh) and a chocolate milkshake (not from the Peds office, silly... though... there's  a  marketing avenue you should ponder, McDonald's....).

Currently, Chase is sleeping/resting/moaning in his crib for nap.

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I am thankful that GOD PLANNED this vacation for Conner. He's away from "the sick", didn't have to be dragged through the doctor's office and almost the hospital. He's having fun with his Nanna at Toys-R-Us (save me) and I miss him.

Had he of been here, I'd be ready to yank out my ovaries through my throat and pour vodka in my eyeballs. I would be fighting him to be quiet because his sick brother would be trying to rest. I would be BEGGING for a nap for myself, and feeling guilty for trapping Conner in the house when his blood yearns for RUNNING.

So, half a day down... and I feel confident that this plan was best - even though it clearly wasn't mine.