When it's quiet where does your mind wander? Do you sit and fret about the audit you're having to get together for the beeping Utah State Tax Commission? Do you worry about the blood in your four year old's urine? What about his ears and the tubes he'll be getting soon? Not me, none of that is eating away slowly at what mind I have left. Nope the next two weeks will sail by and I will be stress free, then pigs will fly right out of my butt.
I am trying my hardest to not "stress" in the traditional sense. When my chest gets tight and I feel like the walls are closing in I try to turn to God. I am not good at remembering the scripture but I know there is a verse in Philippians about petitioning God repeatedly and doing it humbly that will get your prayers answered. So I am repeating my prayers. Sometimes it makes me feel better, sometimes it makes me want to yell.
I have been noticing just how great my kids are while I sit and watch them play. While I sit praying for them, I see God in each of them. I see Turner's giving heart and his willingness to please others. I see great strength (and maybe a little stubbornness) in Tate. I am thanking God for letting me see the little moments my kids share every day. I am relishing standing just out of sight and listening to their conversations. I am watching the brother sister bond grow each day.
We'll be going to the pediatric kidney specialist in two weeks. I will let all of you know what we find out. Hopefully it will be blessedly uneventful and all I will have nothing to report but "Turner is fine".
Friday, January 16, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Nothing witty
I got a call today from Turner's doctor. She called me after office hours from her home number-this made me think something was up. Well, Turner had some blood in his urine at his check up so now he's being sent to a Nephrologist(kidney specialist). I am worried to say the least. Brad has mild kidney disease, so maybe that has something to do with it.
I hate feeling helpless. I hate wondering if something is wrong with my sweet little boy. I have nothing witty to say, nothing insightful. What I have is raw unfiltered fear. Yes my "right mind" knows this could very well be nothing. Yes my "right mind" knows it could be something benign. But my mommy mind is reeling out of control and bringing me to my knees.
Say a prayer for Turner B. I know God will be tired of hearing my voice. I'll let you know what we find once we get in to the specialist. Thanks--T
I hate feeling helpless. I hate wondering if something is wrong with my sweet little boy. I have nothing witty to say, nothing insightful. What I have is raw unfiltered fear. Yes my "right mind" knows this could very well be nothing. Yes my "right mind" knows it could be something benign. But my mommy mind is reeling out of control and bringing me to my knees.
Say a prayer for Turner B. I know God will be tired of hearing my voice. I'll let you know what we find once we get in to the specialist. Thanks--T
Friday, January 9, 2009
Hello you Ok, good, bye
I am a little special. No I don't mean that I am so cute and really sweet (although I am). I mean I am a little bit goofy. I had the faintest memory of some foggy terrible dream that something happened to Brad. So I called him this morning. He answered "Hello"
I said "OK you're alright, bye"
Sweetness knows that I am weird and he didn't ask what the hell was wrong with me, he just said "Yep I'm fine, bye". I love that man for not questioning my insanity. I love him for not pointing out that I am nutty. He doesn't care that I get up five times a night to check on the kids and make sure they are safe in their beds breathing like normal.
I am happy to have found a person that ignores my craziness. Seven years and counting, it'll only be weirder from here on out. Maybe my resolution for the year should be to worry less. I just don't see me keeping it even for a day much less a whole year. I am a hundred percent without a doubt type A control freak. Mine manifest itself in many different ways, but a big one is worrying. Or am i just an normal mom? That could be a toss up.
Well here's to no more dreams where my husband gets mauled by a tiger, here's to not quite so much worrying. Happy 2009.
I said "OK you're alright, bye"
Sweetness knows that I am weird and he didn't ask what the hell was wrong with me, he just said "Yep I'm fine, bye". I love that man for not questioning my insanity. I love him for not pointing out that I am nutty. He doesn't care that I get up five times a night to check on the kids and make sure they are safe in their beds breathing like normal.
I am happy to have found a person that ignores my craziness. Seven years and counting, it'll only be weirder from here on out. Maybe my resolution for the year should be to worry less. I just don't see me keeping it even for a day much less a whole year. I am a hundred percent without a doubt type A control freak. Mine manifest itself in many different ways, but a big one is worrying. Or am i just an normal mom? That could be a toss up.
Well here's to no more dreams where my husband gets mauled by a tiger, here's to not quite so much worrying. Happy 2009.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
My new and improved diet plan
We have had the best morning. I got up at five when Brad left to go hunting. I came down stairs and got to work on my Christmas sewing uninterrupted for a couple hours. My kids got up and we had breakfast and got dressed. We went to the gym where I got an hour of clearing my head and the kids got to play with their gym friends.
After the gym we did a little grocery shopping at Publix. For anyone who doesn't know, Publix has the coolest shopping carts in town. They are space ships and have two steering wheels. I got to talk tot he kids the whole morning and enjoy both of them. My kids are funny, smart and of course they get it all from me.
After we got back home it was time to start making lunch. I had the bread and peanut butter out when I noticed Tate acting like she needed to potty. So I stripped her down and plopped her on the potty. We talked for a few minutes but she didn't act like she had to go. I left her bare bottomed and went back to making sandwhiches. She ran off to go play. She came back to me a minute later trying to hand me a fist full of peanut butter. I bent down to take it from her, but it wasn't peanut butter. Oh no, my baby girl handed me a fist full of poop. So gross. I had to scrub her down before she got it all over her. Once Tate was clean I had to find the rest of her deposit. There in my living room on Turner's little wooden rocking chair was a huge pile of terds. My daughter had stood in the chair, squatted down and crapped. She's so dainty and lady like huh?
I disinfected the entire down stairs. I Lysoled everything. I scrubbed poop off of the chair. When all was said and done strangely, I had no appetite for my peanut butter sandwich. This is my new diet plan. I will let Tate crap all over the house and it will deter me from eating chocolate, Reese's Peanut-butter cups and anything else i can think of.
I could not help laughing the whole time I was cleaning. Turner was gagging and asking why Tate had to poop on his chair. The glamorous life of a stay at home mom is always exciting.
After the gym we did a little grocery shopping at Publix. For anyone who doesn't know, Publix has the coolest shopping carts in town. They are space ships and have two steering wheels. I got to talk tot he kids the whole morning and enjoy both of them. My kids are funny, smart and of course they get it all from me.
After we got back home it was time to start making lunch. I had the bread and peanut butter out when I noticed Tate acting like she needed to potty. So I stripped her down and plopped her on the potty. We talked for a few minutes but she didn't act like she had to go. I left her bare bottomed and went back to making sandwhiches. She ran off to go play. She came back to me a minute later trying to hand me a fist full of peanut butter. I bent down to take it from her, but it wasn't peanut butter. Oh no, my baby girl handed me a fist full of poop. So gross. I had to scrub her down before she got it all over her. Once Tate was clean I had to find the rest of her deposit. There in my living room on Turner's little wooden rocking chair was a huge pile of terds. My daughter had stood in the chair, squatted down and crapped. She's so dainty and lady like huh?
I disinfected the entire down stairs. I Lysoled everything. I scrubbed poop off of the chair. When all was said and done strangely, I had no appetite for my peanut butter sandwich. This is my new diet plan. I will let Tate crap all over the house and it will deter me from eating chocolate, Reese's Peanut-butter cups and anything else i can think of.
I could not help laughing the whole time I was cleaning. Turner was gagging and asking why Tate had to poop on his chair. The glamorous life of a stay at home mom is always exciting.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Pass the sutures
Last night a tragedy occurred at my house. Brad and I had just tucked Turner in bed and come down stairs to watch TV. We snuggled up on the couch when we heard a pained scream. Turner was panicked because his bear, the beloved Brisco, had a hole in his head.
Brisco has been with our family since the day Turner was born. When he arrived he, much like Turner, was new, so soft, and smelled so good. After four years of being drug around the house, to Walmart, on cross country plane trips, and every other place Turner goes he's looking worse for wear and smells a little. Brisco isn't as plump as he once was. I guess following a busy little boy around is the perfect diet plan. He has been loved nearly to smithereens.
I walked upstairs to see Turner laying in his bed hugging Brisco with big unfallen tears in his eyes. He asked if Brisco would be OK and if I could fix him. I told him of course I could stitch Brisco up and it wouldn't take very long. I came down stairs and did the best job I could performing brain surgery on a VIP bear. Once he was hole free I returned him to a very happy little boy.
Life would be perfect if I could solve all of my children's' future problems as easily as sewing up a toy. I know that soon I will have to sneak bear out of Turner's bed and put more stuffing in him. As he is now, he's little more than a bear skin with no filling. I thank God the He starts everything out small for me. My children were small and easy to handle when I was first blessed with them. Their only problems were poopy diapers and hungry bellies. But as they grew new issues had to be dealt with, but I think I handled all that came my way. I just hope I can keep growing with my kids and always be able to give them the help they need. Even if the help they need means that one day I will have to stand back and watch instead of jumping in.
Brisco has been with our family since the day Turner was born. When he arrived he, much like Turner, was new, so soft, and smelled so good. After four years of being drug around the house, to Walmart, on cross country plane trips, and every other place Turner goes he's looking worse for wear and smells a little. Brisco isn't as plump as he once was. I guess following a busy little boy around is the perfect diet plan. He has been loved nearly to smithereens.
I walked upstairs to see Turner laying in his bed hugging Brisco with big unfallen tears in his eyes. He asked if Brisco would be OK and if I could fix him. I told him of course I could stitch Brisco up and it wouldn't take very long. I came down stairs and did the best job I could performing brain surgery on a VIP bear. Once he was hole free I returned him to a very happy little boy.
Life would be perfect if I could solve all of my children's' future problems as easily as sewing up a toy. I know that soon I will have to sneak bear out of Turner's bed and put more stuffing in him. As he is now, he's little more than a bear skin with no filling. I thank God the He starts everything out small for me. My children were small and easy to handle when I was first blessed with them. Their only problems were poopy diapers and hungry bellies. But as they grew new issues had to be dealt with, but I think I handled all that came my way. I just hope I can keep growing with my kids and always be able to give them the help they need. Even if the help they need means that one day I will have to stand back and watch instead of jumping in.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Estrogen and why it sucks
I have been having some "female troubles" as of late. So I went to my OB/GYN. He declared me devoid of estrogen and put me on a temporary hormone replacement therapy. Let me tell you about the devil called estrogen and why it sucks.
For the last fourteen months or so I have only suffered from normal worries: Pollution, the ozone eroding, the looming election, the ever rising cost of gas etc etc... I can handle all of these and file them away in the not so important to keep me up at night category. But now, no now I have a whole new host of things to keep me up at night.
I have a sweet life. I have a husband who loves me, two kids who are as perfect as any God has ever created and a life the queen of England would envy. But estrogen is ruining everything. I hate being overly emotional. For two days now I have gotten my daughter out of bed from nap and been almost in tears for an hour. She is so sweet and perfect. Every inch of her oozes sweetness. This is not new to me, but it's never knocked me over quite like this. My son wakes up and is my ever present companion from 6 a.m. to 8p.m. He was in bed tonight when I noticed the magnets on my picture board. He had pulled all of them off today. I saw him in the act and told him I wished he hadn't done that, then went on about my business. Well low and behold I look up after he is in bed and notice that every picture is put back in close to it's original place. Now folks, this isn't a small board, there are thirty pics up there and he put everything back the way I had it. So what happens? I tear up while watching my Tivoed Eli Stone episode like a big baby. He wanted to make me happy and put everything back the way he found it, can you say perfect son?
Once my husband gets home, life is only more complicated. My hormones soar at the mere sight of him. I'm always happy to see him but the past week has been ridiculous. He walks in and I swear birds sing and he twinkles, yes he actually sparkles in the late afternoon sun. My children run up to him and he is a fairy tale in motion. He helps set the table, gets the kids ready to eat and I fall hopelessly to the floor in a puddle of mush. Now mind you that I stay composed, I go on about my routines like nothing is different. We eat supper and I am amazed the whole time that I have found someone who I share 90% of my political views with. Then it's off to the bedtime races. We go upstairs and Brad bathes my children. He hugs Tate and gives her undivided attention before she is put to bed. She hangs on his every word and kisses everyone goodnight. Then Brad and Turner leave me to have a bath by myself, what a luxury. After my bath they come upstairs and Brad reads a bedtime story. I love this part of the day. Brad, Turner and I lay in my bed and read together. Then for thirty minutes Turner and Brad wrestle. It is hilarious if you are not reeling from the effects of the Satan spawn that is called estrogen. I used to just laugh and think is was funny to watch Brad and Turner wrestle. Not this week. This week I think of all the children in the world who don't have a Papa like Turner does. This week I think of all the children in the world who can't defend themselves from evil pedophiles. This week I think how unfair it is for any child to be born with out a man like Brad to look up to. How do I keep a straight face and then smile at the two most wonderful men in the world?
Then my husband and I go down stairs and watch TV. Well there is not a damned thing good on TV these days. But I sit every night with my head in Brad's lap trying to act like a normal human being and not the slobbering weeping mess that I am inside. We go to bed at nine and the most wonderful man in the world hugs me. Now my usual routine is to fall asleep laying on Brad's arm. I usually feel safe and happy and warm. This week I feel hot, full of anxiety and self doubt. Did I do enough today that Brad Turner and Tate know how much they mean to me? If I pray hard enough will all the sweet babies in the world be taken care of? Can I protect everything in my world if I lock all the doors and buckle all of the seat belts? If I never let them eat anything bad can I keep everyone I love alive forever? No, I can't. My logical mind knows this and accepts it. My estrogen poisoned mind reels all night long thinking of ways to protect all that is mine: The husband you read about, the kids you pray to have, the parents who you want to talk to every day, and all the best kinds of friends who get me through each day.
I can't take the worry. I know it's there, but usually I can let got of it long enough to breathe. Estrogen make me feel like I am treading water holding a fifty pound weight. The last time I felt like this I had a miscarriage. I swam through that without drowning, but barely. That was a loss I wish for no one. But these damned hormones make me feel that emotional again. I have two more days of this blue pill induced torture. Then hopefully my body will return to normal and I will be able to breathe without worrying. It would be good if I could get my hormones balanced. But given the choice, I would take no estrogen and female troubles over being overly emotional and teary any day. So if my eyes water tomorrow when you tell me about your dry cleaning that wasn't ready on time ignore me, my body has turned traitor and I can't help my tears. Check back in a week and I may tell you to suck it up you big sissy, it's just a damned pair of pants and you can live without them.
For the last fourteen months or so I have only suffered from normal worries: Pollution, the ozone eroding, the looming election, the ever rising cost of gas etc etc... I can handle all of these and file them away in the not so important to keep me up at night category. But now, no now I have a whole new host of things to keep me up at night.
I have a sweet life. I have a husband who loves me, two kids who are as perfect as any God has ever created and a life the queen of England would envy. But estrogen is ruining everything. I hate being overly emotional. For two days now I have gotten my daughter out of bed from nap and been almost in tears for an hour. She is so sweet and perfect. Every inch of her oozes sweetness. This is not new to me, but it's never knocked me over quite like this. My son wakes up and is my ever present companion from 6 a.m. to 8p.m. He was in bed tonight when I noticed the magnets on my picture board. He had pulled all of them off today. I saw him in the act and told him I wished he hadn't done that, then went on about my business. Well low and behold I look up after he is in bed and notice that every picture is put back in close to it's original place. Now folks, this isn't a small board, there are thirty pics up there and he put everything back the way I had it. So what happens? I tear up while watching my Tivoed Eli Stone episode like a big baby. He wanted to make me happy and put everything back the way he found it, can you say perfect son?
Once my husband gets home, life is only more complicated. My hormones soar at the mere sight of him. I'm always happy to see him but the past week has been ridiculous. He walks in and I swear birds sing and he twinkles, yes he actually sparkles in the late afternoon sun. My children run up to him and he is a fairy tale in motion. He helps set the table, gets the kids ready to eat and I fall hopelessly to the floor in a puddle of mush. Now mind you that I stay composed, I go on about my routines like nothing is different. We eat supper and I am amazed the whole time that I have found someone who I share 90% of my political views with. Then it's off to the bedtime races. We go upstairs and Brad bathes my children. He hugs Tate and gives her undivided attention before she is put to bed. She hangs on his every word and kisses everyone goodnight. Then Brad and Turner leave me to have a bath by myself, what a luxury. After my bath they come upstairs and Brad reads a bedtime story. I love this part of the day. Brad, Turner and I lay in my bed and read together. Then for thirty minutes Turner and Brad wrestle. It is hilarious if you are not reeling from the effects of the Satan spawn that is called estrogen. I used to just laugh and think is was funny to watch Brad and Turner wrestle. Not this week. This week I think of all the children in the world who don't have a Papa like Turner does. This week I think of all the children in the world who can't defend themselves from evil pedophiles. This week I think how unfair it is for any child to be born with out a man like Brad to look up to. How do I keep a straight face and then smile at the two most wonderful men in the world?
Then my husband and I go down stairs and watch TV. Well there is not a damned thing good on TV these days. But I sit every night with my head in Brad's lap trying to act like a normal human being and not the slobbering weeping mess that I am inside. We go to bed at nine and the most wonderful man in the world hugs me. Now my usual routine is to fall asleep laying on Brad's arm. I usually feel safe and happy and warm. This week I feel hot, full of anxiety and self doubt. Did I do enough today that Brad Turner and Tate know how much they mean to me? If I pray hard enough will all the sweet babies in the world be taken care of? Can I protect everything in my world if I lock all the doors and buckle all of the seat belts? If I never let them eat anything bad can I keep everyone I love alive forever? No, I can't. My logical mind knows this and accepts it. My estrogen poisoned mind reels all night long thinking of ways to protect all that is mine: The husband you read about, the kids you pray to have, the parents who you want to talk to every day, and all the best kinds of friends who get me through each day.
I can't take the worry. I know it's there, but usually I can let got of it long enough to breathe. Estrogen make me feel like I am treading water holding a fifty pound weight. The last time I felt like this I had a miscarriage. I swam through that without drowning, but barely. That was a loss I wish for no one. But these damned hormones make me feel that emotional again. I have two more days of this blue pill induced torture. Then hopefully my body will return to normal and I will be able to breathe without worrying. It would be good if I could get my hormones balanced. But given the choice, I would take no estrogen and female troubles over being overly emotional and teary any day. So if my eyes water tomorrow when you tell me about your dry cleaning that wasn't ready on time ignore me, my body has turned traitor and I can't help my tears. Check back in a week and I may tell you to suck it up you big sissy, it's just a damned pair of pants and you can live without them.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Indulge me
My little baby girl isn't a baby any more. Sad, but true. She's now 16 months old and considered a toddler. But every once in a while I get a moment with her where she's still a baby. One of those moments happened tonight, my heart is full.
Tate and I have the same routine for her bed time every night. Read a book, brush her teeth, let her hug and kiss the boys, and then off to bed. I always ask for about eight more kisses and then I put her in bed. Tonight I was hugging her and heard air roll around in her belly. I began patting her on the back just like I've done so many times before. But before she was a baby and it was just another part of eating- getting the burp out. Tonight she laid her head on me like she remembered being held like a baby. She burped but we just sat in the middle of her floor and rocked and patted each others backs.
Tate is so busy that I rarely get to hold her. It's not because I don't try, she is just too busy to stop and be held. In the mornings she snuggles for a couple minutes after the oatmeal is eaten. She sits and finishes waking up, but it's never enough for me.
Tonight she indulged me. Maybe she was just stalling to postpone bed time as long as possible. I don't care the reason. I will never out grow wanting to hold my children, even when they are bigger than me. I know they will start to shy away from the hugging and sitting in my lap all too soon, so I am soaking up every second that I can. I'll breathe in as much of their scent as I can. I'll keep these memories for when they won't just sit with me.
I am thankful for my children. Thankful they show me what fun is. Thankful they show me what in life is really important. Thankful they show me everything good that's in my husband. Thankful that they have made me slow down and realize how truly wonderful our life is. Thanks for indulging me kiddos, you'll never understand how much you mean to me.
Tate and I have the same routine for her bed time every night. Read a book, brush her teeth, let her hug and kiss the boys, and then off to bed. I always ask for about eight more kisses and then I put her in bed. Tonight I was hugging her and heard air roll around in her belly. I began patting her on the back just like I've done so many times before. But before she was a baby and it was just another part of eating- getting the burp out. Tonight she laid her head on me like she remembered being held like a baby. She burped but we just sat in the middle of her floor and rocked and patted each others backs.
Tate is so busy that I rarely get to hold her. It's not because I don't try, she is just too busy to stop and be held. In the mornings she snuggles for a couple minutes after the oatmeal is eaten. She sits and finishes waking up, but it's never enough for me.
Tonight she indulged me. Maybe she was just stalling to postpone bed time as long as possible. I don't care the reason. I will never out grow wanting to hold my children, even when they are bigger than me. I know they will start to shy away from the hugging and sitting in my lap all too soon, so I am soaking up every second that I can. I'll breathe in as much of their scent as I can. I'll keep these memories for when they won't just sit with me.
I am thankful for my children. Thankful they show me what fun is. Thankful they show me what in life is really important. Thankful they show me everything good that's in my husband. Thankful that they have made me slow down and realize how truly wonderful our life is. Thanks for indulging me kiddos, you'll never understand how much you mean to me.
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