I'm sitting here surrounded by contradiction. In front of me I see our beautiful little Christmas tree, my little Christmas village above the entertainment center and a sappy love story on Lifetime. My dog is upside down on the couch with his legs spread wide open. He knows he's safe and loved. My children are in their beds, tucked in neatly and covered with night night kisses. They know they're safe and loved. Even my husband, who is sometimes thousands of miles away from me, can rest easy when he sleeps after working grueling hours in order to provide for his family. He knows he's loved and definitely appreciated.
However, when I flip the channel or scroll through Facebook, I'm doused in hatred. Abuse to animals runs rampant. It's sickening. Hundreds of horses laying dead in a field. Puppies hanging from trees. Thousands of animals being burned, beaten and even killed for no reason other than pure evil. People are randomly stabbed while just walking down the street or simply using a public restroom in a mall. Protests are rising up in city after city. Some are peaceful while others.....well, not so much. School and workplace shootings seem to be a monthly occurrence. Children are being slaughtered in front of their parents for being Christians. Billboards from atheists referencing Christmas and fairy tales relating to church. That was just THIS WEEK!! The disgust I feel for the world we live in nearly overtakes my ability to hold on to some sort of hope. Nearly, but not completely. Every day I pray for this to be the day that the heavens open up and Jesus takes us home!
But....who is us? For story's sake, let me put it this way. Say there's a woman called "Ann". Ann goes to church every Sunday morning. She volunteers on various committees at church as well as committees at her children's school. She donates money to charities. She doesn't know how to say NO even though saying yes compromises things she already has planned. Her radio is tuned to the local contemporary christian station. Her Facebook is filled with scripture and encouraging posts. She is a dedicated wife, mother, neighbor and friend. But......is she a Christian? Will she be one of the ones saved from this world if Jesus returns in her lifetime?
A recent Sunday school lesson invoked some serious thoughts about myself and people in general. It was explored further in a conversation with Amanda. "How do you know?" By looking at and interacting with someone, how do you know they're a Christian? By all accounts, "Ann" is what most people would call a "good" person and most would even assume she is a Christian. Here's the thing. She's not. Will Jesus take her home if he busted through the clouds right now? That's something that only she and God know the true answer to.
The only way we will even get close to knowing is to invest in "Ann". Where is she from? What does she like to do? What are her thoughts on God? Does she believe Jesus is the Son of God and died for our sins? Do we, as a society, take time to invest in people's lives not for the sole pleasure of gossip but because we actually CARE. Do we ask the hard questions? Due to my own insecurities, I can easily say that I don't ask the hard questions. I don't invest in others like I should.
The Bible says that whoever calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. EVERYONE should be given the opportunity to accept or reject Christ. Everyone means everyone. This world is a mess. There's no doubt about that. I don't know if it's getting worse or it just appears that way because of the access we have to more worldwide information.
I saw a comment the other day that stuck with me. Although the quote is from Albert Camus, an atheist, I love what it says. "I would rather live my life as if there
is a God and die to find out there isn't, than live as if there isn't
and to die to find out that there is."
Have I questioned His existence? Have I tried to understand the magnitude of everything He encompasses and then get aggravated when I can't understand it? Do I get annoyed with Christian jargon people throw around? ABSOLUTELY! But, my faith assures me that there is a God and I will continue to believe that without fail. It is, you know, the greatest commandment. Matthew 22: 37-39 says......37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’38 This is the first and greatest commandment.39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'
So, by looking at me, how do you know I'm a Christian? You don't. You won't. Not until you choose to invest in me and I in you. Our world doesn't stand a chance unless society can grasp that one simple task. Sadly, I just don't see that happening. So, I'll hold on to the hope that one day soon, the heavens will open and these days of what are literally "Hell on Earth" for so many will fall away.
I'm the kind of person who reads the last page of a book to see how it ends because I can't stand the suspense. I use Wikipedia to find out everything that happens in a movie so I'll know when to close my eyes. My friends can't stand that I do this. I can't ever imagine NOT doing it.
I do not like any kind of suspense at all. I certainly do not like to be scared. My family and friends know not to ever "BOO!" me because I can't be responsible for what might happen to them if they do. I go in Fat Girl Ninja mode. It ain't pretty but it's effective and that's what matters.
When I was little, my father (Buddy) was a long-haul trucker so he was gone for periods of time. One night, my mom and I were sitting in our family room watching TV when I heard a scratching at the side window. We had a woodpile right outside and we also heard some logs falling. My mom called the police to come out. After doing a search, it was concluded that it was "just a cat". However, while the police were at our house, a burglary call came in at the house right behind ours. Not a coincidence......
When I was a little bit older, I shared a bedroom with my older sister, who is 11 years older than me. With that age difference, we didn't have a whole lot in common. I was the bratty baby sister and she was a high schooler. One night, I heard a scratching noise at the bedroom window. When I looked over, I saw a stick being raised, lowered and scratching the window screen. Either my mom or my sister tried to scream but nothing came out. I think it was my mom that ran to the front door wielding a gun at the would-be-intruder. To this DAY I am petrified of windows. All of my doors and windows must be covered by blinds and at night they have to be closed. Josh would love to sleep with the window open but that's just not going to ever happen. As a matter of fact, when I first moved back to Dothan from New Orleans, I had all of the windows in my house nailed shut.
You know the feeling you get when you think someone is following you and about to grab you? Its a mixture of adrenaline and fear. I would get that walking down my hallway at night, or walking from my front door to the car, or swimming in our pool. I kept the heeby-jeebies all the time, even now.
I'm also afraid of the dark. Definitely not as much as I used to be. I used to have to have a light on in the bedroom to go to sleep. Now, I just leave the bathroom light on. *lol* Only when Josh is home do I get a dark room to sleep in. Luckily, he can sleep through anything so the light doesn't bother him, just my scaredy-cat ways. Driving down a dark road.....CREEPY! I'm always afraid someone is going to pop out of the bushes. As a middle schooler, a group of us would ride down to the Devil Church on Fortner Street, turn the lights out on the car and drive down there into the dark. If I could see the old me now, I'd love to smack the snot out of me for the stupid things I did.
Growing up, I was convinced I would be dead before I hit 40. I just knew that I would die a horrific, brutal murder. Because of my fear of the dark....and other fears.....Josh decided it would be a good idea to get me a pistol for when he's not here, or if I find myself in a situation out in public. I needed to learn how to shoot it, right?
Josh took me and a box of bullets out to my brother's place in Kinsey. They had a little home made shooting range out there. So I loaded my gun, aimed for the target and prepared to shoot. I made a couple of really good shots! As I was changing my grip, I apparently put my hands in a position Josh told me not to. When I squeezed the trigger, I felt a little cut and then my thumb started pouring blood. We got the bleeding to stop, bandaged it up and kept shooting. Before we left, I was checking out my thumb and noticed it wouldn't bend. At all. I could sit there and will it all I wanted to and it wasn't going to move. We stopped at a friend's house on the way home and let him take a look at it since he's a P.A. He thought it might just be sprained and thought it would probably be ok. It wasn't. By Monday, it was still the same so I called my family doctor for an appointment. I will just say now, my doctor was Tony Gabrielson. If you know him, you can imagine how THAT visit went. He crawled my butt for letting it go so long. "Dude, that's an important digit! You don't need to lose that!" My grip was wrong on the gun so the slide came back when it was fired and it sliced the tendon in my thumb.
A week or two later (!) I was taken to Columbus, GA by an angel named Kelly Johnson. I had surgery on my thumb at the Hughston Clinic. The tendon was reattached and a very long pin was placed in the top of my thumb going straight down through it to hold everything together. I went through hand therapy and today, it's relatively good as new.
All these years, I have had so many fears. It should have occurred to me a long time ago that I'm my own worst enemy. I need to watch out for myself, apparently!
“Some people talk to animals. Not many listen though. That's the problem.”
―
A.A. Milne,
Winnie-the-Pooh
I was told the other day that I BETTER think of something to write about. *lol* So here!!!
However, if you're not an animal lover, then just go ahead and pass right by this blog. All this is going to be about are 4 legged blessings with a LOT of pictures. I have been an animal lover my entire life. Chances are if you've known me for any length of time, you'll remember at least one if not all of these.
When I was growing up, my mom raised Persian cats, Doberman Pinschers and Afghan Hounds. Before I was born she raised horses. I wish I could have been alive then. A bucket list entry for me is to ride a horse across a beautiful meadow as fast as it can go. Unfortunately, I am not a horse rider so the possibility of that happening is next to none.
My first memory of an animal I actually have a picture of is below. I adopted kittens from one of our litters and named them Blueberry, Wallplug and Lightplug.Crazy original huh? I didn't get to keep them. Once they left that was the end of cats for a while. I also had a pet duck when I was 6. His name was D.D. Mom said it was for Dumb Duck but it was just DD to me. He tried to follow me to school and also swam in our pool with me. We eventually took him out to a friend's pond so he could hang out with his bird friends.
Infamous green carpet I mentioned in my first blog....
We then had Doberman Pinschers. "Cash" had extremely bad gas if I remember correctly. "Bonnie" was a petite little girl that was just adorable. She had a litter of puppies that I got help take care of. To this day I still remember the smell of Puppy Chow and water mixed together because that's what we fed them. One of the puppies accidentally was stepped on by someone and I remember it being devastating. He was bleeding and my mom was trying to save it. UGH, sometimes I hate vivid memories.
After the Dobermans we started raising Afghan Hounds. We had Penny (Lady Penelope Szerzo), KC (K-Z's Summerwind Akaba) and Cella (Mahadi's Silver Lima de Prima).
KC & Penny
Me & Cella
They are absolutely beautiful animals but a pain in the butt to keep groomed. When I was in 2nd grade, the Dothan Eagle did a story on my mom raising the Afghans. When I got home from school, they took a picture of me and the puppies to add to the article.
One of the puppies had a tendon problem so several times a day I would work the puppy's paws back and forth trying to stretch the tendon. I saw a lot of litters born and learned very young how precious even an animal life is. When the Afghans were gone, we didn't have any animals. Until Morris.....
Morris and Murphy
Murphy was a sweet little baby that was abandoned by his mother. He
hardly had a chance he was so sick. I was trying to nurse him back to
health and ended up killing him. He liked to cuddle up close to me at
night. I woke up one morning and he was hard as a rock. Suffocated.
My dear sweet Dad tried to give him mouth-to-mouth we were all so upset
about that little fella.
His final days
Morris the Cat came into my life when I was in middle school. He was there throughout all the rough stuff with my parents divorcing. I can't tell you how many times I would go outside and lay on the concrete or grass and cry to my kitty. As he got older, he developed a skin condition. A really nasty one at that. He lost a lot of fur and it was replaced by scabs which bled all the time. When he was 15, he had a stroke. It was winter so I kept him inside by the wood burning stove. I had to pick him up to get food and water. Late one night I went in to check on him. I got down on the carpet, cuddled around him and just started talking about all the things we had been through together. I told him I hated seeing him suffer because it was breaking my heart. He was gone the next morning.....
In high school I had a little white doggie named Duffy. He was named after Duff McKagan in Guns N Roses. Ha! Ha!
I didn't do well with bunnies. I tried for a short time after Morris. I thought I was doing a good thing by letting the bunny play outside while I was out there. Unfortunately, I forgot the City had been out to spray the yard. Bunny ate the grass and died the next morning. Another image in my brain.
Let's see........after the bunny came our time with Shelties. The little girl was Prissy and the boy was Kane. These were really smart and beautiful dogs! Remember the near-flood Dothan experienced in the 90s? These two babies were stuck in the crawl-space of my house during that and it was full of water! My mom swam out into the water, underneath the house and rescued them. Prissy was standing on top of Kane and they were up to their noses in water. But they lived!!! Mom eventually got rid of Prissy and gave Kane to my sister. I don't know if Kane was trying to get back to us or just ran away but he was found shot on the side of the road. I'll end that story right there.........
Along came Joe. Joe was one of the coolest cats I had ever met. He was
sweet, mild mannered and a great cuddler. Joe passed away the year the
kids were born. He had Leukemia. Anytime his name is brought up now,
it's almost always followed by "I miss ole' Joe. He was a good cat."
That he was.
A friend of mine was watching my dog for me when I had brain surgery. When I went to pick up my dog, he showed me a kitten he was about to put in the woods because he didn't want it. I TOOK IT! It was way too little to be all alone! He named her Biloxi but I just cut it off at Bill. So then I had two cats, Joe & Bill.
When I lived with Chad in Louisiana, his brother Michael had a dog named Loretta. Since I wasn't able to work, I got to spend a lot of time with her and fell completely in love. When Chad and I split, Loretta and I did too.
After the split, I got an apartment in Louisiana. I was lonely though because I have always had animals around me. So, I adopted Spencer. Spencer's mom was killed by a car when he was a little baby. He lived on a car lot and was absolutely nasty. He weighed 1 pound, he had an upper respiratory infection and kitty herpes. When I moved back to Dothan and started dating Josh, he rescued a kitty that was getting his butt kicked outside of our house. This cat fell in LOVE with Josh! It was adorable. He was found in October and he was orange so we named him Punkin. So then we had Bill, Spencer and Punkin at our house and Joe lived at moms until he passed away from leukemia.
A little while after we moved into our new house, Bill disappeared. We have no idea what happened to her and Emily still talks about her to this day. Several years later, Punkin developed diabetes. I noticed he was drinking a lot of water and he couldn't walk right. The vet said he would live but he would have to have shots every day. I couldn't do that to my baby, him not knowing why I was sticking him with a needle all the time. Punkin then passed away.
Punkins last few days.....cuddled with Spencer
Spencer lived for 14 years. The last couple of years of his life were absolutely miserable. I finally gave in and had him put to sleep. It nearly killed me. Josh did it when I was at school for PTO one day. He even brought him back home and buried him for me. These were his last days:
Man, it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest. If you're not an animal lover, you can't imagine what it feels like to live through this, let alone relive it by writing this post.
But, all of that brings me to where we are now. Four years ago on a rainy July afternoon, we came across a puppy while we were all out riding our bikes. I brought the kids on home while Josh tried to find out who the pup belonged to. Josh walked through the door with this face:
Introducing....TRIGGER!!
This picture is so funny to me. It's like he is trying to put on his best cuteness so we will keep him. I wasn't the problem, it was Josh. He said we would keep him in the yard until we found his owner. No owner found. So then he was just supposed to stay outside.......but then this happened.
SUCKERRR!
He became an inside dog but he was NOT going to sleep with us, period.
Need I caption this picture?!?! SUCKER!!!!
Really though, could you deny that face? Trigger Treat Edwards is truly the best dog I have ever owned. He's so smart. He's funny. He protects his family. He's just awesome :) No more cats. No more dogs. NOW I understand why my mom always said when we got rid of our animals, we wouldn't get any more. It's just too hard to lose them.
I long for the day when I can get in my car, input an address and have my car drive me there. It could happen, right? I have serious road rage. Not so bad that I would get out and hurt someone. I'm not THAT crazy. I just have a very low tolerance for bad drivers and what I call "entitlement" drivers.
My idea of an entitlement driver......
Out Highway 52 past Lowe's just before you get to Trawick Road is what used to be Geraldine's Restaurant. Coming FROM Trawick, sitting at the light with the Texaco on your right, I see people cut across Geraldine's every single day. I've seen several near miss head on collisions because of this too. Since Geraldine's closed and the business was repainted, a wire going across both driveways was erected with a couple of 4x4's in the ground. That didn't last long. I sure would like to see the vehicle that busted through that. I just want a police officer to sit in the Shoe & Leather parking lot between 7:15am - 8:00am and see how many times this happens.
Another example of an entitlement driver is in car line. I shouldn't even get STARTED talking about car line, but since this post is regarding my road rage, Ill go ahead. :) At our school, there are two directions you can come from. Allllllll the normal people get in line and wait like we're supposed to. Some choose to get there an hour and a half early, some an hour or some just 15 minutes before the bell. Either way, we get in line and we wait. Once the line starts, you take turns going from the two directions.
There are a few people that come from a different direction that try to bee-bop into the car line. Well, I ain't lettin them in. They can FUGGETABOUTIT. It ain't happening and I guarantee if they try it in front of many people, they won't let them in either. I'm not even talking about patiently waiting for someone to let them in. I'm talking about them getting their bumper in there a little at a time to squeeze others out. There are supposed to be cones at the corner so people can't come in from that way but the school doesn't put them out anymore.
Then you have people that like to take chances with their lives and vehicles. They play Frogger in real life. In the below picture, I was at the red light on Westgate & Main in front of Walgreens. You know the place, traffic nightmare. The tan vehicle was trying to cut across traffic that was stopped for a red light. A car headed for the turn lane slammed into it because it pulled out in front. Well.....DUH. I can go ahead and tell you, if you see me stopped at a red light and you're trying to get across, I'm not letting you through. Nor will I take the open spot someone offers me to cross. Seriously, THINK people!
Can we all just PLEASE learn how to correctly turn in a median?!?!?!? Lordy!
Now Walmart-North. Read closely. THERE IS NOT A STOP SIGN AT THE TOP OF THE HILL COMING IN TO WALMART PARKING LOT NEXT TO BRUSTERS. STOP stopping!
School buses and 18 wheelers.......do people not understand these vehicles are HUGE?!? They have a wide turn radius so give them room! And for pete's sake, don't pull out in front of them. They can't stop as quick as a normal car!!!
So tell me, what's you're traffic pet peeve?
I literally fear the day my children get their license. I know I can teach them the ways of the road, but having to look out for others is the problem. I am not looking forward to that day, at all.
(Grrrr....I'm all fired up now! )
By the way, to let you all know, Im all blogged out. I finished my story and have nothing more to tell. I knew I should have spaced the others out so it would last longer but I just didn't. I was on a roll and was having fun reliving the old days. I hope something will pop up in my head or someone will give me an idea of what to write. Until then.........
SATURDAY:
As I was looking through some pictures taken today, I discovered my self in one. I've already mentioned that I absolutely hate to have my picture taken, for any reason. To see myself in the background of one makes me wish I could photoshop myself out of someone else's picture. It is just absolute disgust in myself.
Any time cameras are out, I disappear. I hide behind anything I can find. There are rare times when I can't hide fast enough. Today was one of those days. Of course, it doesn't take a picture to feel disgusted with myself. I eat, sleep and breathe disgust for myself. Let me go ahead and say that I am NOT looking for a pity party. I don't want your comments telling me that it's what's on the inside that counts and I'm a beautiful person. No offense. That's all well and good but you don't know how untrue that really is. I am a lazy, unmotivated, very large shell of a person that used to be so full of life, it was overwhelming. We have our own battles we must fight. This.....is mine and I'm losing more each day.
I look around me and constantly see obesity. You would think that it would make me feel better, like I wasn't in this alone. It doesn't. I am in this alone. No one else can take care of this problem for me. No one can make me do anything. I have to make my mind up myself to work harder, eat better and get out of this pit I am in.
I have an addiction to food. My portion sizes are out of control. It's a ridiculous cycle that I just can't break free from. I hide away to eat something because I want it so badly and then feel like absolute crap afterwards. I. Love. Food. I love it to an unhealthy extent. If something tastes good, I want to eat all of it. If there is some left on the kids plate, I want it too. What I don't understand is WHEN this happened to me and WHY? I can't pinpoint a single thing that made me like this. My brother, mother and sister are all thin. Essentially, I was too until 1999. I can't blame it on the depression of brain surgery although that was the time period. I was still thin when I got out of the hospital and started packing it on right after. I'm not trying to use it as a crutch. I am fully aware of my weight. I also am fully aware of the threat of diabetes and heart issues because of it. Does that change anything? Nope. Doesn't seem to. WHY?!?!?!
My sweet husband has done absolutely everything he knows to do to help me out. He's paid for programs, pills, surgery (a BOTCHED tummy tuck), gym memberships, personal trainers and apps. There's nothing else he could possibly do. He has just paid for an entire year to a gym that I haven't been to in over a month. I'm stuck and can't get out of the contract unless someone buys it from me and I transfer it to their name. Like THAT'S gonna happen. The people at the gym are really sweet and helpful but it is a Crossfit oriented gym and I have zero interest in Crossfit. I should have done more research before committing.
I wrote the above part a couple of days before this. Tonight, I was supposed to be at our school's PTO meeting. I'm on the board so it is at least a little important that I go. Josh has been painting our bedroom all day and has just finished. As I was kissing him bye to go to the PTO meeting, my leg brushed up against something. I was too big to maneuver well. I ended up hitting the roller full of paint which went all over my leg and my pants. "Why didnt you just change?" you say? Well, my closet doesn't allow for mistakes like this. I had nothing else to wear, that fit. That went over real well with my self-confidence. So, like an idiot, I sit here crying about how big of a disappoint I am to myself about this weight thing. I would love to scream at the top of my lungs but I would scare too many people. So, I sit here silently screaming inside. Something had GOT to give or I'm going to die too young from this weight.
If you are the father (or stepfather) of a little girl, then LISTEN UP! I didn't plan on being so transparent in this post but it happened anyway.
My father
When I was growing up, I was Daddy's Little Girl. At the time, I didn't know what that meant. All I knew was that I loved my dad and he loved me. He was supposed to though, right? There were a few times I got the belt to my butt and it was SCARY. His general speaking voice is very deep and very loud so you can imagine what yelling was like. I knew my parents fought a lot but before it got really bad, there were some good days in between. My parents each had a motorcycle and we traveled around with the group every week. I think I was about 9 when my dad taught me how to drive one. He would use his legs to keep us propped up but I did the steering and changing gears. He had absolute total confidence in me. It felt amazing.
When he left, I lost more than a father. I lost strength in myself. I thought I lost the promise of a happy family. My brother was gone. My sister was gone. Now my father was gone. People kept leaving me. It was me and my mom. I knew what he did to her was wrong but sometimes I still blamed her. Maybe it wasn't blame, it was just anger with how our family was built. While others had families built of steel, our seemed to be like a straw shack sitting in the middle of a tornado. Honestly, I was 12 years old. I had so much going through my heart and head it's a wonder I turned out the way I did. Of course, that may not be a good thing either. I wonder.
For a long time it was just me and mom. She taught me to be independent. She taught me not to rely on a man for things I could do on my own. My view of love and relationships was certainly jaded. I still catch myself trying to rationalize why I feel the way I feel, in all things. I look back at high school and wonder what in the world people thought of me. I didn't fit in with the cool kids. I didn't fit in with the smart kids. Then, and now, I still battle with the feeling of not fitting in. Clothes, accessories, hair, weight.....I don't have all the right things and even the things I do get right I still question. Yes, I am fully aware it shouldn't be about "things". There used to be a time years ago that I could look in the mirror and smile back. Now, I only look in the mirror because I have to see to put make up on. Walking thru stores, seeing surveillance camera monitors, getting my hair cut, working out at the gym.....Im surrounded by mirrors and it literally makes me nauseous. You can forget about selfies from me. I never, ever, ever take pictures. Ever. (Not trying to sound like Taylor Swift, just expressing a view!!)
It took me roughly 20 years for me to come to terms with the person my father is. I will always love him and I genuinely do forgive him. It hurt so much to question why my father didn't want me, why all the lies, why the distance. It was molding me into a bitter person. There comes a point, as a person and a mother, that you have to decide what is best for you and your child. If you met him, you would probably say he is very kind and loves his family. I'm sure there's a part of him that does. Like most people, there's an underbelly and that's what you don't want to cross.
In saying all of that, I say this......your kids remember more than you know. Your tone, and your words, can make the simplest of words feel like a stake through the heart to a little girl that adores you. Every time she walks out after getting ready and you don't say a word, it's remembered. Every time you tell her she can't do something because she's a girl, it's remembered. A newly painted picture, a silly dance, a horribly sung song.....these are things that shouldn't be blown off! Your reactions to these things build a foundation for her. Every negative comment is placed in the internal file cabinet of her heart. They.....we.....remember the acknowledgements and the blow offs. You may not understand or even like something they like, but get over yourself and let them know how proud you are of them, their accomplishments, their creativity. I am NOT saying to treat your child like she's a Queen, give her everything she wants and make the world all about her. Just love her. Genuinely love her. That's all she needs. She will feel like she can conquer the world without you having to do it for her because YOU gave her the confidence to do it herself. There's no love like a mother's love but to a little girl, nothing in the world compares to the love she gets from her Daddy. Honestly, all of this applies to boys too. We're supposed to build them into strong, sensitive men that will one day be husbands and fathers. Show them now how to do it right. Don't repeat a cycle. Don't make them feel like they're a nuisance. Being a parent doesn't mean you always get the last glass of milk, last cookie, first serving of something or whatever, just because you're the adult. Being a parent doesn't mean that your children's thoughts don't matter because they're children. THAT just shows immaturity to me. ENCOURAGE them to think and do for themselves but don't expect them to know exactly how to do something. HELP them. Ugh, the more I type the madder I get so I need to stop before I get too grumpy.
My mom married a man that chose to be my dad. He loves me unconditionally and makes sure I know it. He gives his heart and soul to his family without question. My children have so many memories and continue to add more because of the person he chooses to be. It is a choice. He chooses to love us like his own. Your choice matters. So what you might have failed at it for years. SO WHAT! If you're still here, make it right. Swallow your pride and make it right. If you don't know where to start.... read this. Even if you're already doing it, read this. If you don't take the time to show her, who will? I don't know about you but that's not something I'm willing to gamble on.
Don't know where this rant came from but for some reason, I saved it from MySpace!!
Man, I wish I still had this confidence!
I've come to realize that no matter how nice you try to be,
how straight you try to play it or even if you just sit there like a
knot on a log....there's always going to be people
that feel the need to steal the sunshine, rain on your parade, stab you
in the back......the list goes on....and you never....even....know.
I'm guilty, I'll admit it. I've voiced my opinion about other
people's lives to people and for the life of me, I can't tell you why.
Why I judge.....why I try to fix, why..... Why Do I Care?
Some
nights when I'm sitting here, going through my list of friends, people I
work with, people I know and I'm praying for them....I hope for so
many things. Many of which, in reality, will never happen. But, I can hope, and there's certainly nothing wrong with that. Miracles have happened, miracles will happen.
In
the end, it doesn't really matter anyway. I know who I am, who I
love, what I stand for and where I'm going. I know who truly loves me,
the people that don't judge me and the ones who fit into my comfy category. I
have a best friend that has seen me at my best, my worst and everything
in between and she's hung in there with me for nearly 30 years. I
have a husband who also has seen my best, definitely seen my worst and
again....has hung in there with me for almost 10 years, always willing
to make us stronger. I have a few new friends that are inspirations
and have helped me through this transition. Above everything, I have a
place in heaven waiting for me when my time here is done and THAT I
know for sure.
So, the answer? Tell myself to get over it.
People will talk. Lost people will remain lost until they want to be
found because you can't MAKE anyone do anything. Happy people should
be praised, not looked down on. Nit-picking stupid crap is just that,
stupid. Thicken up the skin, soften up the heart, become more
forgiving but not to be run over. Do whats right, not what people want
you to. I can do those things, no problem. Because my core is solid,
I know it and I've resolved to not worry about d.r.a.m.a. and to do my
absolute best to respect others even if they choose not to do the same
to me.
I'm a 40 year old woman that has had roughly 15 surgeries/procedures/hospitalizations. My daughter is 10 and she's already had half that. I can understand why Chuck Norris is one of her heroes!!! A friend of ours that recently passed bought Emily a wall poster of Chuck Norris and she LOVED it. With her unusual language, it was always funny to hear her say "Walkuh Texas Ranguh".
I've already written about Emily's broken leg at 6 months, heart surgery at 3 years old and frenulectomy in Preschool. That's more than some people go through in a lifetime. Of course not MY little girl!
I first need to let you know a bit about our neighborhood. It's filled with boys. There are just a couple of girls Emmy gets to play with occasionally but for the most part, she's surrounded by stinky, sweaty, gross boys (that I absolutely love and adore by the way!). To say that she's tough is an understatement. She really didn't have a choice, she had to be.
John Thomas, Emily, Tyson, Harrison, Joshua, Ethan
Tyson, Harrison, Joshua, Ethan & Emily (she can't really go topless like the boys!!!)
I can't remember what grade it was, maybe Kindergarten. She tried to catch our neighbor John Thomas when he jumped off the ladder of the pool. She ended up with a scar under her eye and a puffed up cheek.
In 2nd grade, she was jumping on the trampoline with the boys and she fell out of the enclosure. Broken arm. I think she was more upset about the doctors cutting off her favorite shirt than anything else. (She still hasn't let that one die.)
Flowers from her special friend, Tyson
Then there was the time Ethan accidentally hit her in the head with a bat.....
Since Emily's surgery in 2007, we have traveled back to her pediatric cardiologist every year to have a check up. Our wonderful friends, Tommy & Linda Cherry, were kind enough to let us stay in their gorgeous home so we wouldn't have to stay in a hotel. (Thanks, you guys!!!)
For the last few years, we noticed the pressure gradient in her heart continue to rise. It was in the 30s then the 40s. We were told that if it reached the 50s, we would have to consider doing something, we just weren't sure what at the time. At her 2012 checkup, her doctor expressed a concern about the continuous rise so he suggested we try a heart catheterization. We scheduled it during Spring Break of 2013. Lordy, she was a TRIP! Versed, again.
Unfortunately, the heart cath didn't provide the results we anticipated. The very small percentage of possibility that the subaortic tissue would grow back wasn't in our favor. The tissue was back, along with the other obstruction which meant another open heart surgery. (My throat just tightened rethinking all of this.)
By this time, Josh had already began working in California. He was about to finish up his 3 month contract. Finally, our marriage was strong! It's like we finally gave in to each other and were able to love each other the way we should! Dare I say.....we were happy!!!
Earlier in the year, we booked our flights to see him in California so we kept that booked and scheduled her surgery for his return in July. This was the first time the kids had been on an airplane and they were SO excited! It was an AMAZING time out west. We spent time in San Jose, San Francisco and Gilroy. We celebrated Josh's birthday with a day at the theme park, California's Great America. We hiked through Muir Woods which is full of redwoods. I wasn't especially excited about visiting Alcatraz.....until I got there. I absolutely love mobster stories so seeing Al Capone's cell along with many others was awesome! Pictures could never ever capture the magnificence of the trip.
While we were on our trip, I got a call that Emily had been chosen for the All-Star softball team! Luckily the season was scheduled to be over before her surgery date so she was able to come home and jump right into that!
It came time for surgery. At 3, Emily wasn't really aware of the significance of having open
heart surgery. Age 9 is a different story. She only expressed a small
amount of nervousness, which helped me keep calm too!! We had a lot of hands to hold us up during surgery. Dena, Josh's parents, our friends Keith & Hope Sewell not to mention the hundreds of people lifting us up in prayer. Our friend Maggie let Ethan stay with her family the week we were gone. There are some things that are impossible to repay.
Brave girl heading into surgery
We arrived at the hospital at 530am. Full House was on so she zoned out watching that for a while. By 8:45am she was prepping for the OR. Surgery started at 9:49am. At 11:14am she was put on the by-pass machine. At 12:39pm she was off by-pass and doing well. At 1:04pm we were called to a conference room to meet with the surgeon. He finally came in at 1:35pm. That seemed like the longest wait of my life. He was pleased with the surgery. The tissue had definitely grown back so it was removed. Her aortic valve is deformed and she'll have to have a replacement but that's nothing they want to deal with until she's older.
At 6:30pm, she was settled into ICU. The ICU rooms at Children's allow for the parents to stay in the room (bed, chair, Xbox etc). She started vomiting and we couldn't get it to stop. 8:00pm and she was still vomiting. She was able to stay well long enough to FaceTime with the boys back home (Joshua, Tyson & Harrison) as well as Mrs. Amanda, Trigger & Chipper. Just a few hours after surgery and she's acting like normal.
11:00am the next day (Wednesday) she was moved to a room. She got the biggest and most painful chest tube out. They didn't give her pain meds before taking it out so that one hurt pretty bad. They took out her art line and catheter. She talked to some more special people: Cole, Aunt Whitey, Ethan and our neighbor Emily.
On Thursday morning she got 2 more chest tubes out. Josh and I also gave her a bath, washed her hair and brushed her teeth. She went on a long walk afterwards!! Thursday afternoon they removed her final chest tube. The surgeon spoke to us again about the surgery. The subaortic ridge removal accomplished what they wanted it to however there's still minimal leakage and moderate blockage. Definitely something we have to keep our eye on.
By late afternoon on Thursday, she was BORED! She and Josh walked around all day. I found them on the 9th floor playroom playing the Wii. She was discharged Friday afternoon and has been going full blast ever since.
Immediately after surgery
Some came in to visit with her as soon as she came out of surgery. Several had to leave. At this point, all of her pain meds from surgery were gone and she was dealing with full on pain. It hurt, a lot. She had an IV in her neck, her arms, a catheter, 4 chest tubes and the incision where they cracked her chest. Look at Josh and Poppy in this picture. If it were you or me, we'd be screaming for some pain meds. They're SMILING at her which they wouldn't be doing if she was screaming about how bad it hurt. My girl is TOUGH! I saw her cry twice the whole time, that was it! The day after surgery, she was up walking around to the playroom and also downstairs to a duct tape craft class. She loved to read to the younger kids on her hall.
Riding the tricycle......TWO DAYS after surgery.
On the day she left the hospital, many members of the Alabama football team were volunteering to make bracelets and necklaces for the rollout of the new Bravery Bead program. Emily and #77 Arie Kouandjio made a bracelet together that I still wear every day.
With the Bravery Bead program, patients earn a bead for every visit, procedure, surgery, test....whatever they have done they earn a bead. This is Emily's collection of beads encompassing just 6 years.
At her checkup a couple of weeks after surgery, we were told her pressure gradient was at 35 (it was 30 at the time of surgery). The ultimate goal is to be at ZERO. We still have to watch it but he's happy to lay low for a little while.
That brings us up to speed on Emily's broken heart situation. For now, we will continue to visit her doctor in Birmingham and pray this tissue doesn't grow back AGAIN. Our next visit is scheduled for September 2014. Of course, we would love to have a miracle healing so she doesn't have to go through any more surgeries. We know it's possible but we also know we're ready to fight.
By the way, I've come to the point I was worried I would come to. I've told the story from beginning to end. I can go back and elaborate on some stories. Readership is down a bit so I must have hit my peak. *lol* I'll post one blog per week and one recipe per week.
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