Watch your head, Miss.

Although I wouldn't consider Ramona to be a severely accident-prone child, when injuries do occur, they tend to happen to her forehead.

When she was about a year old, a friend of mine was watching her one evening while her ten-year-old daughter walked Ramona in a stroller in front of their house. At one point, she lost control of the stroller, tipping it forward and spilling Ramona onto the sidewalk. Thankfully, the tray was installed on the front of the stroller, because it appeared that it had blocked the force of the crash, leaving my baby with just a bruise on the right side of her forehead.

About six months later, after we moved to Iowa, we were invited to a friend's home for a dinner party. Ramona was happily playing with a four-year-old girl on the stairs while I was looking on. The older girl made a motion, most likely intended to guide her along up the steps, but instead it caused Ramona to lose her balance and roll most of the way down the flight of stairs, hitting her head on the tile floor below. She suffered no more than a goose egg from that incident, but she has never been fond of stairs since then.

Almost another six months have gone by, and Ramona was due for another head injury--but this one perhaps the most frightening, for me. While she was playing in her room with a 14-month old I was babysitting last week, she fell off of her bed. Since this is only an 18-inch drop, I initially wasn't too concerned, but when I went to pick her up, I saw that she had a significant gash on her forehead, and blood was already dripping down her face onto her shirt. She had landed right onto the metal knob of a nearby heating vent. As I attempted to clean the cut, I saw that it had gone all the way through and would require some stitching. Somehow, in my terror, I managed to temporarily patch up the wound, give her some ibuprofen, and call the other child's mother, who was willing to take her son while I drove Ramona to a doctor. Meanwhile, Ramona had stopped crying and was happily eating a sugar cookie I gave her, saying "I'm going to be okay." Had I told her that? I think I had.

While we waited for the doctor in the exam room of the urgent care center, Ramona seemed oblivious of the hole in her forehead, jabbering her usual mile-a-minute and pushing a wheeled chair back and forth. I paced about nervously, but occasionally smiled with relief to see my daughter in such good spirits.

Then it was time for the stitches. "Ramona, do you want to be a caterpillar? We're going to put you in a cocoon for a little bit, okay?" I told her as reassuringly as I could, eying the papoose she would be strapped to on the exam table. For the first time, Ramona looked concerned, and said she did not want to be a caterpillar. But I picked her up and laid her on the papoose while the nurses helped me velcro her arms in. "Once it's over, you can come out and fly like a butterfly," I said, barely hiding the quiver in my voice.

Ramona cried violently through the anesthetic and through each of the four stitches, while I held her little face and desperately sang her her favorite songs. She immediately quieted once she was out of the papoose and back in my arms, and willingly accepted some stickers for her bravery. For her, that was the end of the incident, and she seems to have forgotten all about it. For me? I think I am still recovering, but it helps that the stitches are gone now and the cut seems to be healing up nicely.

Have you gone MAD?

According to Forest, it's the most wonderful time of the year: March Madness. After printing out several team logos and spending a couple of evenings recording picks, we helped Ramona fill out the third bracket of her existence (yes, she filled out her first one in utero).

Based on her preference for certain logos, her favorite teams included Vanderbilt (she called the logo "twinkle little star") and University of Illinois (she recognized this logo from Forest's numerous college sweatshirts).

But the winner? Clemson. Every time she saw the logo she cried out, "Hand!" holding her own palm toward the orange paw print.
I later realized that she does something similar when she spots a "don't walk" sign on the other side of a pedestrian crosswalk. I'm not sure if it's a relevant correlation, but at any rate, her bracket quickly fell apart when her team lost in the first round. I guess when it comes to bracketology, a fetus's picks are just as good as, if not better than, a toddler's.

When I think of Japan

Whenever I think of Japan, I generally think of things like this:

or, like this:
or, occasionally, things like this:
I also think about the people and lifestyle that are so familiar to me because, in a sense, I grew up right alongside much of it. Although I have only visited Japan on short trips and never lived there for extended periods of time, my own mother is a native of Japan. She created an environment in my childhood home that very strongly conveyed the spirit of her homeland. To this day I speak to my parents in the Japanese language they taught me, and step away from my American-ness every time I do.

These days, when anyone mentions Japan, all that seems to come to mind are horrific images of destruction with the recent earthquake and tsunami affecting their nation. A week ago, as I tried to watch some of the footage from this calamity, I realized tears were rolling down my cheeks and quickly turned off the news, but was unable to stop sobbing for several minutes. It isn't typical for me to burst into tears at the sight of something sad, but perhaps because of the pregnancy, and perhaps because of emotional ties to this country, oceans away, I felt an unusual sense of sorrow. Thankfully, all of my family and friends in Japan have been kept safe through this event, but my prayers are with those who suffer there.

New Recruit for Team Dixon

We're getting a new recruit for our family, scheduled to arrive Labor Day weekend of 2011. Not much is known about this team member, except that he/she is currently about the size of a peach and has a heart rate of about 150 bpm.

We'll see which expires first--this box of cereal, or pregnancy #2.
In other news, I turned 26. Aren't birthday flowers wonderful?

Doctor Daddy & Master Mommy

This past summer Forest and I wrapped up our degree requirements at the University of Illinois, and our diplomas have since arrived in the mail.

Currently we are continuing our schooling in the fields of parenting and home ownership. Although there are no diplomas awarded for these disciplines, as far as I know, there certainly are a lot of tests!

when you wish upon a grape

I think that God is so merciful that often he acknowledges our childlike wishes and silent prayers, simply because he loves us.

This was evidenced to me yesterday, when, just for an evening, I got to be an orchestra teacher with my very own group of string players.

It just so happens that between the ages of 13 and 18, there are four violinists, two violists, two cellists, and a double bassist in my current congregation at church. Just the right number for a small but balanced string orchestra. And, it just so happened that there was a district-wide meeting planned for youth 12 to 18 on January 16, and I was asked to organize an instrumental musical number for that event.

Dream come true? I think so. Last month I excitedly arranged a children's hymn for five string parts (with our congregation's talents in mind), then contacted the kids about participation and rehearsals. It all came together beautifully last night as I dusted off my old conducting baton from Professor Schleicher and led the Cedar Rapids 2nd Ward Orchestra through our two-minute musical offering.

Langston Hughes once asked: "What happens to a dream deferred?" I think maybe it depends on the dream. Is it alright for some dreams to be deferred as we prioritize other dreams (like stay-at-home-motherhood)? I think, sometimes maybe it is alright. A sun-dried raisin is, after all, sweeter than the original fresh grape.

ParTEA like it's 2011

When 2010 dropped the ball and the calendar flipped to 2011, the Dixons were still East of the Mississippi, making holiday visits. We spent New Years Eve with Cheryl and co.
Ramona received a little tea set (thank you Cheryl) which was immediately used for a tea party on the living room floor.
Cheryl apparently received a few toys of her own
Forest and I shared our friends with Ramona for a little while, but then we took her back to Paca's house, put her to bed, and tried to have our own kind of New Year's tea party. Although grown-ups probably don't have as much fun as kids do, sometimes we pretend our parties are better just because we get to stay up late.
New Year's Day we met with another Decatur friend, then drove back to Jii and Baachan's house, where we ate sweet rice and giant sweetened black beans from Japan.
After a couple of days there, it really was time to end our stay in Illinois.
On the way back to Iowa, we squeezed in a visit with Aubrey--another friend who takes me back to age fourteen.
After eleven days of travel, sickness, friends, and family, now we're back in our sweet Iowa home with the whole year ahead of us. Here we come, 2011--come snow,
rain, or shine!