He's Proved Them Wrong

         So when my darling 2nd sons Birthday came in August, I sat down to write a sweet thing about him. It didn't exactly come out the way I thought it would. What came out was, His story. How he actually came into the world. So, I've had it sitting here on my computer for a month. I'm taking a big breath and pushing the post button. I wrote it for my family. For him and I and his daddy. Also, for the other kids for them to know how this all came about. I am also writing this to fulfill a promise I made to God 12 years ago. 
     So if this is too much information for you, I understand. Just step away and turn off my blog for today. If not here is a peek into our most difficult time in our lives as parents. (We actually had another very difficult time when baby number 3 came as well. Just different and maybe not as long suffering. But just as difficult. And quite painful physically and emotionally. Another story, another day.)



      My second boy. My marshmallow. My heartache. When my second son was born, it was much different then when my first was born. My first son was a big baby. 8 pounds 15 ounces. Almost 9 pounds. My second was huge. 9 pounds 10 ounces. And he was born completely natural. No drugs. No epidural. No nothing. Just womanly force.
     When he came out we were thrilled to have another boy. A big boy. But, from the first moments he was out there was a problem. They took him away. Quickly. I wasn't sure what was wrong. They started scurrying quickly around the room. Calling NICU Dr.'s and nurses. There was oxygen and much nervousness around him. In the meantime, I had just delivered a big baby and there was repair to do. And bleeding. Much bleeding. It was a scary and very unnerving time.
     I would see my baby for short periods of time and then they would come and whisk him away. I wasn't sure why. They kept giving us odd answers. Something to do with blood sugar. Then we had the visit from the doctor from the NICU. Not a regular pediatrician. Some kind of surgeon. No bedside manner. We were trying to understand what they were saying to us. Something wasn't right. His blood sugars... I must of had done something... You need to let us do things to take care... Go home... Without your baby.... Let us deal with this...
     " I don't understand. Dr. tell me what is the worst case scenario."-Me
     "He could die."-Dr.
     "No. That isn't the worst case. Then he would go to heaven to be with God. The worst would be if he had to live in pain and have no real life here. Is that possible?"-Me
     Dr. shook his head in disbelief and walked out.

     This was the first week of our babies life. I forgot the part where I almost bled to death. I passed out visiting my baby from the amount of blood and stuff coming out of me, and the overwhelming feeling of failure I had. So bad that I finally allowed them to give me a sleeping pill and I didn't tell them for the first time, how sensitive I am to drugs and took it. I heard nurses talking outside of my room about me and my baby and how bad it was. I was so low. So... I don't think there is a word for what I felt.

     He was wanted. He was loved. He was very ill. I went home without my baby. The thoughtless volunteer worker they had wheel me down to the car asked where my baby was. I wanted to kick her. I wanted to.... Die...I had to have broken him some how. I didn't know how. I just knew that he was in me and I did something to hurt him.

     The very long week after with me at home crept by. Hour by hour we would call to check on him. I woke up to a raging fever. 105. I was freezing. I couldn't stand up. I had a kidney infection. Terrible. I had allowed them to put a catheter in because I didn't have any fight in me at the hospital and I let them do it to shut them up. It had made me sick. Big surprise.

     The decision was made for me to move into the hospital to care for my new baby. I hated the idea. I didn't want to leave my 3 year old. We hadn't been apart more then an hour or two ever. Now I'm leaving him. I didn't know what to do though. The things they were telling us on the phone and when we visited that was going on with our little darling was full of incompetence. I couldn't believe the incompetence. In the NICU. And he was already sick. They were going to kill him. Literally.

     I moved in. The Doctors weren't thrilled. The nurses weren't sure what I was going to do all day. Well, I won half of the doctors and nurses over to trust me. And the other hated that I was in their space. I learned all that I could about what my darling had. Hyper Insulinism was the name then. Not common. Not much known about it. My sweet friend researched the Internet and fed us as much info as she could find. She researched doctors and hospitals. All the while I learned many hospital procedures. I learned how to give my baby shots. I learned to dress his little incisions. I took his vitals. I changed his bed linens that I brought from home. I nursed him. and nursed him. Took his blood sugars every 20 minutes sometimes and nursed him. Fought with young doctors that were doing things by the books and wanted me to be out of the picture so they could do what ever they thought they would try next without running it by me first.

     I am grateful and horrified by all that went on there. Strange statement, I know. But, it is so true. We were there for Almost 2 months. Living like that. I hardly slept because I had to protect him from the nurses doing stuff that wasn't necessary or doing it roughly. Not all of the nurses were bad. but, I soon realized that doctors and nurses are people. Just like everyone else. They have husbands, and rowdy teens and problems that they deal with while trying to make life and death decisions everyday. I would hear all of this reality all too clear while I lived there. As one nurse was assigned to us for her 12 hour shift, I heard all about her teen that was totally out of control and had run away. Yes, run away. And here she was trying to get through her shift worried about where her child was. While all of this is going on and she is quite distraught, she trips on baby boys IV that had to be surgically put in and had been sewn in place. Really. I could have scratched her eyes out, as my child howled in pain. But, how could I. Her child was lost. I had mine. He was being tortured before my eyes, on a daily basis. But, I had him.

     I had read my bible much as a child. I knew my bible stories. I remember God talking to all of those people right out loud. But, I never heard him myself. I had been taught God could do anything. He just doesn't. Only at Pentecost did they have gifts. Only in the bible was there miracles like that. And God never talks out loud. And if he does, you are crazy. One night, I had a nurse I thought I could trust. She was convincing. My baby didn't get formula after the first week. It made him sick. And he had so much to endure, the least I could do was breast feed him. He had to be on a fast for so many hours for so many tests (and many more to come) that I believed the least I could do was breast feed him. He was my baby, I needed to breast feed him. See a pattern? Yea, they did too. This nurse was on her 12 hour shift and baby fell asleep. I told her I was going to go lay down and to call if he woke up. She assured me she would. Well, I poured into the bed in the tiny janitor closet of a room that was the sleep room. On the little twin bed. I didn't change my clothes or even put on the blanket.
     That is when I heard it. A voice very big tells me, "Get up right now. He needs you." I feel myself lifted off of the bed and I wake up the rest of the way as I open the NICU door. Just in time to see this nurse putting a bottle into my babies mouth. The other nurses were apparently discussing the situation and telling her to call me. She was determined not to. I needed sleep she said. The nurses parted like the Red Sea when they saw me. Backing slowly away from her and me. (They had obviously remembered the night I grabbed the male nurse by the scrubs and hollered in his face to get me a doctor now! Somehow he was taller then me, but I was lifting him. ) The nurses face went white. All of the blood drained very quickly from it. And she said, "How did you know?"
I said, " HE told me. " She must have known what I meant (although I wasn't sure yet about the whole thing) because she handed me my baby and apologized quickly. I snapped that now I couldn't trust her and that meant that I couldn't sleep for her whole shift. Yes, I had heard God. Loud. In my head. And he lifted me to my feet.

     The amount of trauma that baby boy and I endured was more then I could type in one place. It would fill a book and although many highs and moments God himself being present, it would be a very stressful book, I'm sure. Recounting this 13 years later is stressful. I still get sick to my stomach when I think about or talk about parts of the long ordeal. There were so many moments that refined me and made me a new woman. For good or bad, I came out of the situation completely changed.

     He almost died several times. I was told he would probably be severely brain damaged. Maybe not even be able to feed himself. I prayed at that moment. I prayed every moment. Sometimes my prayers were not for what you would think. Some of my prayers, I am ashamed of now. Grateful that the Lord knows best and does what He knows is best. I wanted to quite so many times.

     We went home finally. In October (he was born in the first week of August). I had to fight for it. I had to work hard but, they were finally going to release him to us. The nightmare just continued.

     We had to give him medicine to control his blood sugars every few hours. I had to feed him no further apart then every 2 hours and many times it was as often as every 20 minutes. I was living on 4 hours accumulated sleep a day. Not in one stretch mind you, in short increments. Small naps. snippets of time. Yet, I had to feed and care for my 3 year old and this little bundle that was starving all the time. I had to give him a shot every 4 hours. It was awful. One time as he got stronger, I had to ask my 3 year old to hold the babies arm so I can give him his shot. I cried for hours after that, I knew I was ruining my son. No 3 year old should have to do that.

     We went on like that for awhile. A week maybe 2. I'm not sure. It's all a blurr. but, then his sugar dropped. We had just gone and had an interview with a doctor that was way over booked but he said he'd take us. I was thrilled when the first thing he told me was to put that baby to the breast as often as he wanted. I breathed a sigh of relief right there. The other doctors fought me. They wanted me to formula feed and bottle feed. They even made me feed him a bottle full of sugar water before every feeding. Of course that would defeat breast feeding. I finally got pushed into a corner. I found a phone number of the local Le Leche league and called them. They told me to tell the NICU Doctors that I had talked to them and that they could have the 6 o'clock news there if they didn't back off. Funny. They backed off. Said bad things about me. But, backed off. I wasn't there to make friends. I was there to protect my child. I was fine with that. Like a mama bear. To the end!

     So we had just had the interview with the new doctor and the baby lost his sugars. The meds didn't work. We had to rush him back to the hospital. Really?? I didn't want to but, knew there was just cause. As I am having to squirt this stuff in his little mouth that can only be described as cake frosting. It was disgusting. That is when the seizures started. He had a 20 minute Grand Mal Seizure. It was terrible. He was looking at me the whole time. The doctor yelled at the nurses to get out of my way so maybe I could bring him back by talking to him. I had never seen a seizure before. Of course I had a lot of firsts that aren't wonderful or celebrated there in those hospitals. And definitely not something you would find in anyone's baby book.

     After a week or so at the PICU now we went home. It seemed like eternity. We were only home a matter of a day or so. We got an opportunity to go to Philadelphia to be put through a trial they were doing on what he had. We were on the next flight. This hospital was scary. It was huge. My husband and 3 year old stayed at an Embassy Suites about a mile or so away. We went through horrible trials and tests. We met others that had babies with the same thing. Many of them way worse. Seizures all the time. Severe damage done to their brains. And so much more. This was a teaching hospital so the different cases there were pretty extreme. Deformities. Illness. etc. My baby looked perfect. I was so blessed. The bizarre things that happened there and we had to endure again were shocking. You could not imagine and I couldn't make up the stuff it was so bad. I had a neurologist try to kiss me. yes really. I have a sick baby in the bed. He is supposed to be reading the tests and he goes in for one. I backed up and kept going. Then wanna bet, he did it again. He asked my husband if he could show me something, my husband left and this creep goes in for another try. Like I accidentally moved the first time?! CREEP!

     Then they surgically insert a special IV into his leg using an x-ray and that night he almost bled to death. There wasn't enough doctors on call so I literally had to hold strong, hard pressure on the bleeding wound for 8 hours before I could get help. He would have bled to death if I had slept somewhere else like the other moms did. Then my baby gets staff infection. The doctor on call doesn't think anything is wrong so that night he is so sick. I have to get a resident doctor to help me squeeze the stuff out of his poor little leg. Green, smelly, oozy stuff. The resident was gagging. He couldn't handle it. I told him I can do this. You can take a breath and step back. I'm a mama and this is my child. This is just a couple of the things that happened. And the others are just as bad. I'm not just picking the worst stories, just the more shocking ones that stick so vividly in my mind. They were all just as bad.

     They tell us to go home they can't help us. God steps in and we can't go home. It is Thanksgiving day. Well, good thing we didn't go home. His medicine stops working. Just like that. No warning. Just stopped responding to it.

     They go in for a blind surgery to decide what to do. I have a vision. I can't explain it. As the doctor is telling me what they will do and showing me a picture of the pancreas, I stop him and tell him the problem is "there". I point at a spot on the picture. I beg him not to "chunk out the pancreas" and just go to that spot. They think I'm crazy. They offer me sleeping pills because I must be delusional. They tell me not to pray for a miracle cure. Pray for diabetes. That is probably the best they can do.

     I pace and pray and read my bible. Random passages. I walk some more and sit. 8 hours of surgery. It was so long.

     They found it. The one cell doing all of the damage. It was right where I had said. The surgeon said that he had gotten to the point in the pancreas where he was going to "chunk out the rest " of the pancreas and he said he heard my voice in his head. He said he couldn't have lived with himself if he didn't just look. And there it was. Baby boy had 85% of his pancreas removed. But, he is perfect now. They said it is possible that as he grows, it would rejuvenate.

     That was the most horrible time in my life. The worst thing I have had to endure. The hottest fire God has ever put me through. But, Even as awful as it was, I felt God like I had never felt him. He was close to me. He talked to me. He lifted me.

     So baby number 2 had come in with the much trauma. And he was nothing like the first baby. Still isn't like his brother. I had to fight for his life. I had to fight for my own life. I learned what the scripture means about praying without ceasing. I Thessalonians 5:17. I don't think I ever stopped praying to God. It was all one big prayer. So much crying out. So much just crying. I wanted to quit. I wanted to run away. But, I couldn't. He was my baby.

     That little baby, just had his 12th Birthday. He is perfect. He is whole. God blessed me with the miracle cure or healing that the doctors told me not to pray for. Well, I'm glad I didn't listen. I'm glad that by that point I had heard God enough and felt his presence that I had confidence that He could heal him. And guide the surgeons hand. Also, whisper my voice in his ear to do what his surgeons logical brain told him not to.

     I have been blessed immensely with this child. I love him with the awe that he was touched by God. And because of him, so was I. Happy Birthday big guy.

High School and Potty Training

     My biggest fears about parenting and homeschooling are potty training and high school transcripts.

Really.

     When my husband and I discussed having children, potty training was the biggest fear I had. I figured the rest would work itself out. I had been to school for teaching kids. I knew what to do (yea, right.). But, I also, had a healthy fear of what those little monsters precious children were capable of.
I had seen horror in bathrooms from power hungry children. I had seen parents normally so controlled and put together, crumble into begging, whining adults trying to coax their little darlings into the bathroom.  No, I didn't relish the idea of training my child to do that. Not to mention the disgust of the "not making it" moments. I had many of them through my preschool teaching time and even more on this side of the parenting spectrum. Now it seems a little funny all of those days and moments spent in the bathroom. But, it still sends chills up my back to see a little one welding the power of the toilet over his parents.
     You see, all of that schooling to get my Early Education-education taught me a few things. But one of the scariest is the two places that all toddlers have control, is in regards to food and the bathroom.
And many figure out just how powerless their parents are in these two areas pretty quick. And I dare say, it amuses them.
     I made it (mostly) through the potty training stage. (I do have one that has to sleep with a pair of rubber pants at night).
     So here is the next problem. High School transcripts. When we decided to homeschool I actually remember saying I wasn't excited about high school and that cutting up a piglet fetus on my dining room table was just gross. I have truly been worrying over this since my oldest was in about 4th grade. I know, with so much time, you would have thought that I would have it buttoned up what to do and how to do it. No. I actually went to many meetings of some of our veteran moms talking about how to do just that. Navigate through the high school curriculum and transcripts. I would get overwhelmed and shut down. It was like when my algebra teacher (he was SO cute) would try to teach me how to do a particular problem and I'd phase out. I'd focus on his cologne or the really nice hair he had (O.K. Cut me some slack. He had been some rad (80's word) model before he taught Algebra to high school kids). Or if it were really bad, I'd go to the Peanuts. You know. That moment in the Charlie Brown cartoons when the teacher would talk. Whaa Whaaa whaaa whaaa. That is it. All that went into my ears.




So here I am on the cusp of my oldest child's Freshman year and I all can hear is Wah wah wah.

O.K. I might have gotten away with it in high school (sorta). But, I'm not going to get away with it now. This is my son's future. I have to put on my big girl panties and just buckle down and do it!!

     Wish me luck. Or as my son #3 says, "Wish me blessings. God doesn't do luck." And I'll go dust off that book about high school courses of study and transcripts I bought about 5 years ago and couldn't bring myself to actually read, and study it intensely now.

Baby Boy Driving.

     He was perfect. I had dreamed of him my whole life. And he was just the way I had dreamed. Soft skin, beautiful blue eyes, cute little nose, sweet little lips.
My first child. My son. My precious little darling. I loved him so much that it actually, physically hurt me. I didn't know that I could live that much. My heart swelled. It was huge with love for him.
     He grew. He loved me back. He would grab my hand. He'd cuddle up next to me to watch his favorite show. When we were apart, he'd squeal, and ran to me, so excited to see me
And the best part? Sometimes when I was really blessed, he'd look at me, and say, "Mommy, I love you."
     What more would any mom want? Yes I was smitten by my firstborn son.
Well, he's growing up. He has hit many milestones. One by one. I celebrated each one. His Birthday came yesterday. He turned 15. I thought that was a big deal. Then today happened.
Today my oldest son was learning to drive. He and my husband got in the 1972 Jeep Commando that my husband restored. The thing is super hard to drive. It's a stick shift. No power anything. Not brakes, steering. And certainly not windows. My husband says if he can drive that he can drive anything.
     So, there we go. My baby boy driving. He was so intense. Very focused. I was so proud. And misty all at once. He drove by our house about 5 times.
     Well, it's happening. He's growing up. I'm so happy he's growing up.   Also very proud. But, I'll tell you the truth. It is happening. Going quickly are the days when I am his favorite person in his life. That is good. But still pulls at a moms heart strings. Especially when it is the first born. First there will be driving, then college classes, his job and a woman. Not any woman. THE woman. The woman that will take my place. Is it weird that I see my son driving and I go to the woman that will hold my sons heart??
     I'm so excited for those days to come. I am nostalgic for the cuddle time on the couch and the little boy squealing that I'm home. So here I am. Quite aware that I am watching the end of my little boys mother worship. Have you been here? How am I supposed to feel?

Do You Want To Be Indy?

     Do you have a dream? A secret adventure that you wish you could do? That you wish you had the courage and the money to make happen? Maybe it isn't the money, maybe you don't think that you have the ability to actually do it. Maybe you think it wouldn't work out the way you have it pictured in your mind.
     What is it? A book you want to write? A place you want to go? A business you want to start? A place you want to live? I actually have a dream that is all of these.
      I am stuck in the wondering and dreaming of it. We have almost done it a couple of times. We are on the cusp of taking the plunge again. But, it is scary. I know, fear is from the devil. But, let's face it; my crystal ball doesn't work and I really don't know if I'd fall flat on my face. And it isn't just me. It is my whole family.
     So, do we sit here doing the same thing and keep spinning our wheels not getting anywhere? A virtual hamster wheel? Don't get me wrong. I live in a beautiful beach town with fantastic weather. But, I'm really starting to think we could do so much more.
     Embarrassed to say that I have started my book several times. Actually, more then one. The notes are all still here. I keep thinking, what if I write it and the only ones that read it are family. And they make fun. Silly, I know. I need to take that step. The first step.
     I've always wanted to live with a garden (big) and sell the extras. Maybe start a Christmas tree farm and Pumpkin patch with all of the excitement that goes with it for those months that you sell them. With  bounce houses and carnival type booths. I've always thought it would be fun to sell homemade items. Like soap, scrubs, teas (that you grow and dry yourself), candles, and other items.
     I have so many dreams and hopes. I just don't know if we have the ability to suck it up and jump.

     Have you ever seen Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? The part where he steps onto the invisible bridge? It is incredible and such a parallel to life. Especially as Christians and having faith that God has it under control. When it looks impossible is when we are supposed to have the faith to step out there.

Indy arrives at a 

test of faith. To reach the chamber that houses the grail, he 

must first cross to the other side of a 30 - foot cavern. There is no 

bridge — at least no visible bridge. To step out is to literally take 

a leap of faith. And faith goes against everything he stands for 

as a rational, intellectual college professor. 

You can't see the bridge. You only know that you have to try it. Have faith that God will put out his hands and hold you up.
     These dreams of mine have been in my head since my husband and I got married. Including having a cow or some chickens. I know many will think that we are crazy. I really have some even bigger dreams that go with all of this. But, I have to keep some to myself.

Well, we will continue to pray for God's direction and see if we really have the faith to step out onto that empty space in front of us....



So the question is; if we step, will the bridge be there?

And, do we have the faith and the courage to step out there?

A Wedding Gift (this one was written awhile ago and forgotten. So, I'll post it now just because. )

            So, a very sweet cousin of mine just got married. She is one of those people that you just want to be around. Smiling, vivacious, and beautiful. People can't help but notice her when she walks in the room. She is quite tall and striking. But, I'm writing because she is a newlywed. She is a new wife. Someday hopefully, a mama. She will be running a household. Her job will be extensive as those of us that have already taken on this job know.
            I am late with my gift because I have really wanted to get a gift that would be used and remembered. One that she would actually use. She will be living in Nicaragua for the first bit of her marriage. She is a missionary and now she is bringing her sweet new husband with her. So you can see my dilimna in that she won't be bringing all of the normal wedding gifts with her. Blenders, toasters, china, it will all be packed away in her parents attic until they return from their mission trip is over. I wanted to give her something she could use now.
            So, what have I decided on, you ask. Advice. I know, go ahead and groan. I'm no expert. I didn't go to college to be a marriage counselor. But, I am blessed with a marriage that I am so happy to be in everyday still. There aren't days that I wake up wishing I were somewhere else. Now that doesn't mean everything is always just the way I wish. No while my darling daughter threw up on my foot and all over the floor this morning, laying on a beach in Hawaii with a sweet iced tea, with an umbrella in my hand sounded divine. But, that is normal. It also doesn't mean that nothing bad has ever happened in our married time together. No in fact there are days I think we are getting more then our share of stressful, difficult times. Money troubles, horribly ill children, bedrest for months, family crisis, and so much more. But, it is those times over the almost 20 years that have brought us closer and love each other more.
              I will tell you that my husband and I have been together for 22 years this next Christmas. We have been married for 19 this July. I love him more then I did on that July afternoon 19 years ago and he is very truly my best friend.
              First, I ordered some books that I think are great for starting a marriage. A blank book to keep a "household book" as they used to call it in the old days. Or to journal ideas and advice. Recipes. Gathering of ideas on how to do something special for someone. The front says, "We remember moments  not days."I think that is so appropriate. It is true.
             Other books I ordered for her are: 1001 Ways to be romantic . I bought this book when we were getting married. I have used it many times over the years, not only for us and building our relationship but, for getting especially extra special gifts for anyone that you want to make an impression on. All of the ideas are different and out of the ordinary. He teaches you that romantic just means that you thought about that person and you know them, and think that what they say is important enough to remember. Who doesn't want a gift like that. Also, no matter how much time goes by, or how many kids you have, or what house or city you live in, it is essential that you always remember that you married him for a reason. That he married you for his own reasons. Remember that the marriage is the first thing to nurture. Not the kids and not everyone else in the families emotions.
             I got her two books on celebrating traditions. Celebrating the Christian year , and Celebrations that touch the heart are both books to help you come up with some fun traditions to start in your family. Both from a Christian point of view. I believe traditions can be super grounding. A way to pull the family in together. If you hear or kids that lived through very difficult lives growing up, it always seems to be the "traditions" that their family did that they clung to. That may sound weird but if a child that doesn't grow up with overwhelming love and joy and Christ in their life and those moments made them feel good and able to make it through another day, then what more can it do for our families?
             A Christmas memory book with their name on it. I bought one for Greg and I our first Christmas and we have been writing in it every year. We put in a picture and the card we sent. It is great to look back and see how God has blessed us from year to year.
             The Encyclopedia of Modern Cooking, I use mine to find interesting and new (old) recipes to share with my family. Why is this important? Because food/flavors is associated with memories. And Food is a good way to start traditions. My family growing up always made certain foods to go with particular holidays. I have continued some and added some of our own. Also, family comes back to the dinner table. It is good for us to eat together, break bread together. The dinner table is the place that as they grow up and move out we can still get them to come to and eat. And if they have a good memory attached to a particular food even better. Eating times should be associated with enjoyable moments.
             The Red Plate: we use this each night at dinner. We rotate who gets it. When you get it each person at the table has to tell you why you are special today. This not only teaches us to give and receive compliments (it's funny how we have had visitors come to dinner and they don't want the red plate because they don't know how to take a compliment. ) But, you also stop and think what happened that day, with that person. This helps us not take each other for granted. Did he wash your car today? Did she scrub the floor? Or Did they work so hard today for someone else and you noticed how hard they worked. It feels good to have someone say that they noticed.
             The package is sealed up now so I think that was all of it. I hope they like the gift. It is much work to locate each piece but, a well thought our marriage is going to be nurtured and thought of . Our marriages need to be thought of and purposely cared for. You can't get married and think that is the end of it. It keeps going. And the more people involved the harder it can become to nurture your own marriage. Whether it is a mother in law or a sister or children that come later. All will try to pull your attention away from your marriage. And many times we have the attitude that it will always be there. That now that the ceremony is over you can file it and put it on the back burner. Your marriage should always be on the front burner. Next to your relationship with God.
             O.K. the box is ready to send and my soap box is over. Thanks for taking the time to read this today. I hope it blessed you in some way.

The Hair Clip Distaster

             Little girl was on the toilet and starts screaming. I go running in to see what has happened.
She has dropped her hair clip down into the toilet where she has gone,... poop.
"Get it Mommy!! Get it out! Don't flush it!"
"No."
"Mommy, get it!! I want it. I love it! It's my favorite!"
" I am not putting my hand in there with your poop for a hair clip."
Disgusted look and angry darts blazed from her eyes.
"Get Daddy. He'll do it for me. D-A-D-D-Y!!!"

Dad replies, "I'll buy you a new one."
Girlie, "O.K. Daddy."

Really. I get glares and he gets an O.K. Daddy? I guess I was the one that flushed.

An Adventure Of A Lifetime!

Is this the most exciting thing you can think of to do?

            




           Today I celebrated being married to the man of my dreams for 18 years. (I wrote this last summer. It got buried. Thought I'd go ahead and push it through). He and I have been together for 20 years. Half of my life. Over the last half of my life I have gained much; money, debt, new cars, old cars, big houses, little condos, gray hair, a "comfortable" body, jewelry, collectibles, Tupperware, books, love, Lots, and lots of love, children, family, friends, jobs, skills, relationships, scars, sadness, joy, pure simple joy, laughter, so much laughter I have wet my pants, tears, wounds, pain, elation, and so much more than I could ever write or share with anyone. The term we have used for years to describe our life together has been an adventure. Adventure defined in the dictionary:

ad·ven·ture

noun /adˈvenCHər/  /əd-/  An unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity Daring and exciting activity calling for enterprise and enthusiasm

verb /adˈvenCHər/  /əd-/  Engage in hazardous and exciting activity, esp. the exploration of unknown territory Put (something, esp. money or one's life) at risk

Let's see according to the list I made above, I think our life together qualifies as an 
adventure. I never thought of a marriage as anything really very exciting before but, I think that is because I believed the bologna that I was taught by society.  Funny, most movies are full of the lies that tell young men and women and actually old ones too, that marriage is a sell out. It is the boring life. Men, you will never have fun again. Sex will be monotonous, and with the same woman for the rest of your LIFE!! Never will you be able to be you, and hang out with your friends. Ladies, we will be bored, and taken advantage of. We will turn into hags. NO, OUR MOTHERS!! The horror!! All I have to say is, marriage isn't for sissies. It is a serious endeavor that takes huge sacrifice, and humility. But, if played out right, you will have the ride of your life. 
           Humility. That word can strike fear in the meekest of us. Humility is the opposite of pride. Pride. Men, we know where you stand on Pride. I just need to put down a few names and we get the idea, right? John Wayne. Daniel Boone. Clint Eastwood. You get the picture. Strong, tough, shoot now ask questions later. Women, all I need to do is show what the other definition of pride is. All of  the female lions in a male lions harem. Well, we all know who hunts and takes care of everything. The female lion. The male is there to share in the kill and have his fun. Pride. I am woman hear me ROAR. This is the picture that the ERA would love to have you paint. 
             Look at the definition of adventure again. The number one listed is:
1."An unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity"
A happy marriage in this day, seems to be unusual. At least that is what we are told. Exciting? Well, there have been days that I have left teeth marks in my seat. Most people ride roller coasters. I gave those up when I got married. Typically hazardous? Well, I wasn't kidding when I say I have scars. The silliest scar, is from falling into the fake Christmas tree trying to hang the last ornament and fell into the tree. All I wanted was to have the perfect tree for our family to enjoy. Broke the ornament and the tree. The ornament shattered (it was the kind of ornament my husband likes.) and dug into my arm. I still have the scar and that was at least 6 years ago. Most difficult scars? Having children. We all know there are ugly scars on many of us moms bodies. Some very visible, others in places only are dear husbands see. That fulfills the first definition listed. 
               Second part of the definition:
2."Daring and exciting activity calling for enterprise and enthusiasm"
Having had lots of money and then not...that calls for someone to become very enterprising. Especially when there are 6 mouths to feed. And for him, no jobs. Anywhere. We have been called on to be enterprising. Resourceful is another way to say that. 
Enthusiasm. It must be called on to continue the momentum that is needed to keep a marriage rolling. Even when the terrain to be rolled on is uphill. Like a cheerleader we both had to become. For our relationship as husband and wife, as friends, and as parents. 
                 When it says; "the exploration of unknown territory," you have to know that in order to have a different kind of marriage then we had ever seen, in order to be all that we knew we could be fore each other, there was totally unknown territory. Being put through trials that we have been put through; one of us seriously ill, fatally sick child, bed rest for 5 months, with the belief that it was probably not going to turn out good anyway (it did though), loosing everything, and all of the roadblocks in the middle of those "highlights", we had never seen or done anything like it. This was new territory.
                 And the last part, "Put (something, esp. money or one's life) at risk." I'm laughing in the face of those that say that marriage is boring. Mine has NEVER been boring. I just shared a few of the exciting parts. Putting money at risk? Been there, done that. One's life at risk? Yep, there too. When I was on bed rest, I was told that they would be watching closely to the stats because I could bleed out at any minute and both I and the baby would die. Pretty monotonous stuff, huh? 
                 Through all of the ups and downs, corkscrews, and loopty loos, you have two choices: hold on with everything you got and pray or give up. Run, screaming for the hills. Yelling, it's just too hard.
                 Hard? Maybe. Monotonous? I don't think so. So I ask, will you go on an adventure that is full of smaller excursions on the way or will you be a sissy and give up at the smallest skirmish? Come on put on your big girl panties and throw your arms up in the air and scream with delight through all that life throws at you. What you get through as a couple will make your relationship stronger and your character more complete.