Mama of a Whole Lotta Drama

Brooklyn Says...

2008-08-31T17:21:00.000-07:00

I overheard Brooklyn saying this to Lauren earlier:

"I want a baby brother, but we can't cause Mom made Dad get his tubes tied."

Sometimes she gets things a little mixed up, but I guess she was close enough.

First Day of School

2008-08-25T16:56:00.000-07:00

Both girls had a fabulous first day of school. Lauren loves the new band director and her new social studies teacher. Brookie adores her teacher and having her first locker.

What do I love about a new school year? Everything! I love the hugs and the smiles and the excited children. I love new packages of paper and fresh crayons. Most of all I love the clean slate and fresh start I have with my students. Anything is possible on the first day of school and we plan on reaching the stars!

Oh and I love this too...

It's six o'clock and my youngest has already passed out. I don't think it will be long before her big sister follows suit.

Bye-bye late nights. Summer is over!

Then and Now

2008-08-23T06:21:00.000-07:00

The other night we watched a special America's Funniest Home Videos that contained all the very best clips from days gone by. Boy howdy did that bring back memories. When Dave and I were dating we had this routine that included that show. He lived hours away so when he came to see me he stayed the entire weekend. He'd sleep in my little brother's room. I'd sleep in my room. My Dad would sleep in the hall with a gun. It was all very innocent I can assure you.

Thanks Dad.

When I said we were 'dating' I was using the term loosely. He'd come down on Friday and stay until Sunday, but the only time we'd leave my house usually was to go to church. I think we saw two movies in the two years we dated and ate out...oh, maybe four times. I'm not sure why. I know he'd have taken me out if I'd asked, but we were just really very content to be together. It didn't matter where. So we spent most of our time hanging out with either my family or his.

Anyway, back to the routine. Dave is a very ~~anal~~ organized so he had a schedule for his visits. He would ALWAYS leave right after America's Funniest Home Videos on Sunday night. Of course I knew this so as soon as it came on I would start to cry. I didn't mean to, it just always happened. I didn't want him to leave me. This was back in the stone ages before nonstop texting and emails made long distance relationships easier. (We actually wrote letters to each other. By Hand. Gasp!) So while we watched my favorite show I'd sit laughing and crying and laughing some more. It was always a bittersweet time.

Fast forward to the present (that's about a twenty year leap for those of you playing along at home). When we were watching the show the other night it showed many of the clips that we remembered from the 'old' days. A lot has changed over the years, but one thing apparently hasn't changed. I still leak when I watch that show.

Only it's not from my eyes anymore.

I shouldn't admit this, but you know me, I have no shame. I kid you not people, when we watched that special I had to go change my panties not once, but twice. That is so ridiculous. I don't feel that much older (but apparently my bladder does). And I know I've had two babies, but seriously, TWICE? That's just not right.

Of course it was cracking Dave up that I had the laughing dribbles. I didn't find it quite so funny. I couldn't help but try to imagine how he would have reacted to that twenty years ago. I figure he'd have got in his truck and drove off without ever looking back. But now, after years of trials and celebrations, he just laughed at with me and he didn't even think about running away.

I don't think.

Of course my Daddy DID teach me how to use that gun.

Good Deed Gone Wrong

2008-08-14T13:51:00.000-07:00

There is a slight chance that I killed a homeless person. I said SLIGHT chance. I probably didn't...at least I hope I didn't. Okay, here's what happened:

We had to go to Abilene today to drop off one of Lauren's 24 hour urines and to have some blood work done on her. After we finished we were at a light and saw a homeless man in a wheelchair. He had no legs and looked half blind. We felt really sorry for him so we decided to give him some money. I tried to talk Brookie into getting out and giving it to him before the light changed because he couldn't walk to my car and he was too far up for me to reach him. Lauren was appalled and said that he might grab her and run away.

I pointed out that it is incredibly hard to run away with someone when you have no legs, but after hearing Lauren's protests Brookie refused to get out. I was about to put the car in park and do it myself when the light changed to green. I had no choice but to leave, so I slowed down as I passed him and tried to put money in the hat he was holding out. Unfortunately the wind caught it and blew it out into the street behind me where it somehow stopped right in the line of traffic and sat there wiggling in the wind as if daring him to retrieve it.

I didn't see if he actually wheeled himself out into the oncoming cars, but he was rolling that direction rather quickly when I drove off and lost sight of him. The kids were all upset with me. Tre yelled out, "That was MEAN Aunt Sissy!" I told him that it was an accident and that I was just trying help. For the next few miles I fretted and fretted over the man saying, "What if he was killed? What if he didn't see the oncoming cars and rolled right in front of someone and got hit. Maybe he'll lose his arms too. Then he'll have no limbs at all and it will be all my fault!"

Finally Lauren said, "Mom the man was blind and had no legs, surely he wasn't unlucky enough to be born stupid too." Hopefully she was right because if he was unlucky enough to be blind, cripple AND stupid, he was probably unlucky enough to get hit by a car and it would have been all my fault. I'll have to watch the news tonight and see if they mention a homeless man being involved in a hit and run.

Next time I'm playing it safe and I'll throw out some food. Something heavy like a burger or a bucket of chicken...

Oh that reminds me of a quick story! When Dave was coaching at he took a group of girls to the state golf tournament two years in a row. They were a great group of kids. He really enjoyed coaching them. I'll never forget the first year he took them to Austin. We were sitting at a red light in a suburban clearly marked with our school name when one of the girls rolled down her window and they all started throwing packages of donuts and snacks at some people beside the road. Dave turned around and said, "What in the heck are you girls doing? Stop that!" The girl closest to the window turned to him and said, "What? We are just feeding the homeless people." Dave quickly corrected her by saying, "Those aren't homeless people! That's a bus stop!!"

Oh. My. Gosh.

We laughed sooo hard over that one. You should have seen the puzzled looks on the faces of the people waiting for their bus and the embarrassed look on the faces of the sheltered girls in the car with us. It was classic.

Of course I have no room to laugh now. At least they didn't murder anyone.

The Faith of a Child

2008-08-11T08:10:00.000-07:00

Recently my parents, my Aunt Sharon and Uncle Jim and my Aunt Martha bought some land to start a little ranch on. It is their retirement dream to all build houses out there together and to raise cattle. I figure we'll be inheriting land soon because they'll all kill each other within a year. Oh I kid. They will have a fabulous time and I am very, very excited for them.

Saturday they had a little cook-out on the ranch and a bunch of the family came out. I love my family. I really do. I don't know if they realize just how blessed they are to have each other. Mom decided to have this little cook-out on the spur of the moment, but still they all dropped everything and showed up. There wasn't furniture yet in the little farm house that's on the land or anything to do, but they didn't care. They were together and that's always been enough for them. It was so nice to watch them spending time together and to see how they all wanted to help out. My cousin Bubby set to work fixing a broken faucet. My uncles brought in and unloaded furniture so for them. No matter what they are always, always there for each other.

That wasn't the point of the post, just a little free nostalgia for you.

While everyone was running amuck helping out or exploring the land Lauren decided that Lasagna, Brookie's beloved cat (who had come along for a sleep over with Mumsie and Brookie) needed to go outside to potty. He had a litter box, but he hadn't used it and Lauren decided he didn't like it. Once he was outside a series of events led to him getting lost. We were surrounded by hundreds of acres of unbrushed land. It was impossible to see where he was so we just did our best and walked the land looking for him.

I drove around and hopped out to look over different areas while the girls waited in the car. We had on shorts and flip flops and I was afraid they'd get bit by a snake (not to mention the ants that were constantly covering my feet). While I looked, they yelled for the cat and it wasn't long before Brookie was crying. Lauren was crying too, because she felt sooo bad for losing the cat, but Brookie was really boohooing. It was awful. By nightfall it was obvious we weren't finding the cat and we had to call it quits for the evening.

There is nothing worse than knowing your child needs something that you can't give them. I would have done anything to make her hurt go away, yet there wasn't a thing I could do other than hug her and pray. I wasn't the only one praying. The entire time I was looking for the cat Brookie was praying. When I'd get in the car I'd see her lips moving in a silent plea to God. That made me want to find the cat even more. She was asking God for help and I really wanted to Him to come through for her. I admit that when we had to give up for the night I was a little disappointed. My problem is that I lack faith.

Luckily, Brookie doesn't. The next day there was still no sign of Lasagna and Mom took Brookie to the little church that my Grandmother used to pastor for the service, then she met me with her so I could take her on home. My cell phone rang about thirty minutes after we'd left for home and when I answered my mom asked for Brookie. I could tell that the cat had turned up by her joyful expression, but it was her loud exclamation that really grabbed me by the heart. She yelled out, with fist in the air, "yes! I knew God was listening to me pray!" She never doubted that God was listening and she gave Him immediate credit for the return of her friend.

I was very proud of her in that moment and at the same time I was disappointed in myself. I had been praying too, but even as I prayed I was filled with doubt. I didn't really think God cared about a cat and whether or not we found it. I was wrong. I should have had faith like Brookie. I should have had the faith of a child.

Not So Pretty in Pink

2008-08-08T08:33:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know us personally know that my husband Dave is a conservative man. Actually the word conservative doesn't quite do him justice. I'm pretty sure if he'd bumped into Moses on his way down from Mount Sinai with the ten commandments he'd have told the man to shave, cut his hair, and to put on some different shoes because real men don't wear open toed sandals.

Often the girls and I have to adjust our sense of fashion to make sure we meet his strict standards. There are the obvious rules like no tattoos or body piercings (other than the ears). Then there are a few rules that seem to border on the extreme. For example, we aren't allowed to wear toe rings or ankle bracelets. Don't ask me why, because I can't really understand it myself. If I were to ask him for you, he'd just say something like, "If God wanted people to look at your feet he'd have put them where your hands are."

Last Christmas I bought both Brookie and her cousin Bailey these Hannah Montana hair coloring kits. The kits had this little device that brushed 'color' on your hair in streaks and then you wash it out. It wasn't permanent. In my mind it was just harmless fun. In his mind I'm not sure there is such a thing as harmless OR fun. It's seven months later and he still hasn't let Brookie open her kit. He absolutely refuses to let her have an 'unnatural' color to her hair and thinks I am just giving putting bad ideas into her head.

Last week the girls and I had to kill several hours while we waited for Dave to get out of a meeting. So I took Brookie to get a much needed haircut. (She got the cutest little wedge cut. I just love it on her.) When Jacie finished with Brookie's hair she showed her these hair extensions they had on sale. They were made from real hair (I didn't ask whose hair it was. I didn't want to know) and were all different colors. Well of course Brookie fell in LOVE with the bright pink hair and just had to have it. Being a loving, subservient wife that obeys her husband and respects his wishes I immediately said yes. So Jacie styled Brookies hair with the extension clipped in. She even cut the pink hair to go with her wedge. It looked so real!

In fact it looked so real that I started to get nervous. As we walked through the mall and I saw all the grandmothers giving me the 'your a terrible mother' eye, I began imagining Dave's reaction. Brookie was imagining it too, only she couldn't wait! She kept saying, 'you can't tell him it's fake. We have to trick him for a little while. Okay mom? Okay??" I agreed to go along with it unless dad got too upset, then we had to tell him.

So a few minutes later we pull up to the service center where we were supposed to meet. He was standing by the school suburban and was with a bunch of the teachers from his campus. Brookie was giddy with excitement. She kept saying over and over, "don't tell him mom! This is going to be sooo great." (The child has a little rebellious streak in her I think). We get out of our suburban and start walking towards him and his staff. My eyes are glued to his face so I see the exact moment that he notices her hair. I could see his eyes narrow and his jaw clench.

I had promised Brookie that I'd play along, but one look at his face changed my mind. Before he could say a word I blurted out, "It's fake!!!" Brookie was so annoyed with me for ruining her fun, but I couldn't help it people. I was born without her push the envelope nature. I am a pleaser. And also, I'm a big chicken!

When we got back in our car he made sure that we all knew that he doesn't her hair, fake or not and that she is not going to be wearing it back home. Brookie listens to him and then calmly informs him that as soon as she is old, like 30 (that was her idea of old?) she is going to get blue hair and there is nothing he can do about it. Of course he tells her that she won't be coming into any house of his with blue hair whether she is 30 or 80.

Can you imagine what it's going to be like when she is a teenager? I'm guessing it's not going to be fun. Of course I may not live long enough to see it. I am 35 already and apparently that's five years past OLD.

Happy Anniversary

2008-08-07T06:28:00.000-07:00

Today would have been their 9th. Please hold John up in your prayers. Today will be rough for him.

Facing Fears (sorta)

2008-08-06T03:13:00.000-07:00

On a recent trip we visited this beautiful old mill in Arkansas.

The drive to the mill is down the curviest road I have ever had the misfortune of traveling on. I tend to get carsick on winding roads so I took Dramamine, but that was no match for this road. As I fought back the waves of sickness threatening to embarrass me in front of our friends, I could almost hear it saying, "Ha-ha you silly human! I laugh in the face of your puny Dramamine!" Somehow by the grace of God (and my own stubbornness) I managed to make it all the way there without actually getting sick and I must say it was worth the trouble.

Dave and I walked around and shopped inside the mill. Then we bought a tiny loaf of bread about the size of his hand and went out to feed the geese and ducks we'd noticed on the way in. This brought back vacation memories from my childhood. I remember Chad, Shanna and I feeding, and then running terrified away from hungry, hissing geese while mom took pictures and dad snickered in the background. Good times, good times.

I felt relatively safe this time because the low stone wall we sat on had only one young goose and two pretty little ducks beside it. The ducks were sweet and the goose was a tad obnoxious. I thought of him as a teen goose. He ate and ate and ate and ate, stealing bread from the timid ducks and then coming back for more. He finally decided he was full and it was none too soon since we were down to only a couple of tiny slices bread.

Then he did the oddest thing. He walked over to a fence, threw his wings up in the air and started honking in this very loud and irritating manner. At first Dave and I couldn't figure out what he was doing, but then we saw the many, MANY grown-up geese come running our way and we figured it out. He had eaten his fill and was now letting the others know there was food to be had.

Well I looked at those geese with their wings up in the air running our way, then looked down at the two tiny pieces of bread we had left and all those childhood memories came rushing back. So I did what any sensible person would do.

I ran.

(You can stop laughing now Dad).

Dave of course sat there calmly (obviously never having been on vacation with my parents as a child) and told me to stop being silly and to sit back down. I reluctantly did so as the first of the geese arrived. After about six of them were fed, we ran out of bread. That's when they started hissing and flapping their wings. That's all it took to have me jumping up to run again, but Dave just grabbed my arm and told me to sit down.

You won't believe what happened next, but I swear it's true. After I sat back down (and started whimpering) Dave simply looked at the geese and said (in his principal voice), "Hey now, that will be enough of that. You settle down." And do you people know what those geese did?? They obeyed!! I am serious. They put their wings down and stopped hissing and calmly stood there looking at him like a little army of feathered soldiers. It was really cool (and just a little bit creepy). Secretly, I now call him the goose whisperer.

I wonder if they have a spot on Oprah for that...

Photographs by Lauren

2008-07-21T21:13:00.001-07:00

Excuses

2008-07-19T06:19:00.000-07:00

Wow. Long time no see! I'm truly sorry that I've neglected my blog (and you guys) for so long. When I sat down to write this I was going to blame my negligence on the fact that I was gone for week to the Dallas area to have some testing done on Lauren and then gone another week to help out at Camp Hackberry. I can't really say that though. If I am honest with you (and myself) I'd admit that being gone was an excuse for not writing, not the reason.

I am no therapist, but I think the reason I haven't been writing is because I've just been too sad. It's not like I'm sitting around crying and being miserable. No, it's not that at all. I've had a lot of fun moments this summer that I wanted to share with you...really I did, but when I'd sit down to write about them it was such an effort t0 be cheerful and happy sounding. I want this blog to be fun and happy, not sad and depressing. The weird thing is that I have absolutely nothing new to be sad about. Just the same two things as before.

Of course one is Shanna. It's been 170 days since she died. I should be better, but I'm not. Actually I am worse than I was right after she died. Why? I don't know!! I think maybe right after she died I just didn't let myself think about her and how much I missed her. I thought about sweet Tre and how worried I was about him. I thought about my mom and dad and how much I worried about them. I thought about John and Shanna's friends and my girls (who still dream about her many nights) and everything else I could think of BUT her. I wouldn't let myself listen to the songs from her funeral or look at her pictures or go to the cemetery. I just didn't want to deal with all that pain. It really hurts so why would I??

I don't know what changed, but now I can't stop thinking about her. Now I am the one dreaming about her and I never used to remember my dreams. Everything reminds me of her and sometimes I even think I see her. Once I slammed on my brakes because I thought I saw her in my rear view mirror and was about to back into her (I can't believe I just admitted that...I didn't even tell my family). Weird stuff like that. So my non-therapist mind has decided that I went too long without dealing with things and now, being the pain she always was, she's just decided to force me to think about her until I do deal with things. She always was stubborn. No really, probably something about all the down time in the summer makes it harder for me to hide from my thoughts and feelings.

The other issue, as you already know, is Lauren. I had such high hopes for getting her better this summer. Such high, high hopes! I have failed miserably at that. If anything she is worse. She is on a 1200 calorie diet (have you ever tried to starve a 13 year old? It ain't fun!) and is still gaining weight. Granted we took a break from that at camp, but still her original purple stretch marks (hallmark symptom of Cushing's Disease) are multiplying at a frightening rate. I fear at any moment she'll turn into a purple version of an Umpaloompa!

We are still testing and I know eventually we'll get to a point to where she can have surgery, but it's obviously not going to be this summer. I am so sad about that and mostly I am sad because she is. She doesn't feel good and she doesn't like how she looks. She can't fit into any clothes that I buy her. She is just too big around (also classic symptom of Cushings). Her face looks all swollen and she is just flat out depressed about it. I can't remember the last time she was with a friend. It was way, way before school was out. I don't really think she has a friend. Nobody calls or texts or contacts her and it hurts her feelings. She just thinks nobody wants to be with a fat, sick person. I try to point out that she doesn't contact them either, but she's not really listening to anything but what the image staring back from the mirror is telling her. I hate that because she is such a beautiful person. She should be having fun and being young. She can't ride her bike. She can't walk to take pictures. She can't swim. She just can't be a kid.

So there you have it. The reason I haven't written is because I was being a big baby, and I probably still am, but I promise to try and write more so you guys don't worry.

Love ya!

Sorry!

2008-06-24T18:53:00.000-07:00

Hey ya'll. Just leaving a quick post to say sorry for being gone so long and to let you know I'll be gone a bit longer. We are out of town for the week because Lauren needed some tests done that can't be done at home. That's not really why I'm not posting though. I guess I'm just a little tired right now and I don't want to splash my blues across your own happy colorful lives.

Anyway, I miss you guys. I'll be back soon. If you get a chance when you are praying for Lauren and wisdom for her doctors would you throw out a prayer for me too? I'm just really discouraged and down about how hard of a time I am having getting Lauren help. I know she is sick. The doctors know she is sick. This shouldn't be so hard. I'm very frustrated and I think she is feeling like I am frustrated with her, but I'm not. I'm just weary of the continual tests and weary of seeing my child suffer.

One more prayer...Tre (my six year old nephew) is here with us and he broke his back today (he has the same bone disease my sister had). He is in a lot of pain and can't walk without screaming and crying. It's hard to see him like this and makes us all (especially him) miss his mom. Nobody takes the place of your mom when you are hurt or sick.

Okay, that's all for now. I did a terrible job of keeping my blue hue to myself didn't I? I promise to be sunshiny and full of cheer when I post again.

Love ya!

They don't call it being a chocoholic for nothing!

2008-06-18T15:23:00.000-07:00

If somebody had told me you could get shot glasses full of chocolately goodness (instead of nasty tasting alcohol) I'd have started drinking years ago!

Brookie is enjoying a 'sweet shot' (I think that's what they are called) from Chili's. They have a variety of desserts in shot glasses for those times when your tummy is too full for an entire dessert, but you still want something sweet. Brookie chose chocolate. Duh. She is my daughter after all!

Celebrate good times (come on)

2008-06-16T06:39:00.000-07:00

Wow. Has it really been three days since I posted? I'm terribly sorry inter-buddies. Terribly. I had to go out of town and then never really found a chance to write. We were some of that busy this weekend on account of the fact that Sunday was a double celebration for us.

The first occasion worth a bit of celebrating was Father's Day. We went to my parent's house this year because it was Dad's first Father's Day without Shanna and because my dad is the bestest Daddy that was ever made and don't try to argue with me cause I ain't listening. No I'm not. Should you even try to tell me otherwise I'll just stick my fingers in my ears and go la la la la la la in a most annoying manner because I know I'm right.

And because I'm mature like that.

The other happy occasion was our 17th anniversary. Yes, you read that right. Seventeenth. I'll just give you a moment to do the mental math and figure out how old I was when I got married.

If you came up with ten you are absolutely right. I was ten years old when I got married and now I am only 27 years old. Okay, not really. I was 18. It was two weeks after I graduated from high school.

No I was not pregnant!

Shame on you. Don't try to look innocent. You know you were thinking it. Actually one of the reasons I got married so young was the very reason I couldn't be pregnant. Dave is old fashioned (and I was too) and there was no hanky panky til we got married so we were in a hurry, IN A REALLY BIG HURRY PEOPLE, to get married. I'm sure you can figure out why. It's no wonder people date for so long these days...they are already having their cake and eating it too (wow that sounded dirty), but we weren't so we were sorta anxious to get the eating of the cake (I swear this isn't a dirty metaphor, get your mind out of the gutter).

Anywho, we've been married for 17 years (and I am 35, not 27...sniff, sniff). It doesn't seem possible that we've been married that long. The years have flown by and with each passing year I've grown to love Dave more and more. The older I get the more I appreciate all the wonderful, solid qualities that make him the man he is. I can honestly say that I love him more now than I did on the day we wed.

I used to think there weren't many couples who felt that way, but then I moved to this wonderful little town and joined this wonderful little church and I saw just how happy people can be in a marriage...even after 25 years...or even after 50 years! Our church family is full of couples who have stood the test of time and they are still full of joy and happiness. That inspires me. Not a Sunday goes by that I don't see one of the couples smiling in a certain way or looking at each other just so and I know that will be Dave and me some day. That makes me happy in my pants (I didn't mean it like that, there you go with your dirty mind again...geez).

I thank God for giving me a man like Dave to share my life with. I pray that my girls will find good, Godly men to share their lives with someday...

someday a long, long, LONG time from now.

I'm so proud!

2008-06-12T18:28:00.001-07:00

You have got to see what Tammie and I spent the evening doing. It is so amazingly awesome!

We were tired and hot and didn't know what we were doing, but we persevered. We even went to Buds For You (the local flower shop) and they let us use their helium tank to fill 60 balloons. They didn't even let us pay them for the helium!

You totally rock Buds For You.

Speaking of people that rock, a sweet sister from our church stopped by to tell me she'd been thinking about me and reading my blog. I looked at her and I'm sure my mouth fell open as the last few posts I'd made ran through my mind. Those of you who don't know me very well must be appalled at some of the things I say. Just so you know I am a big kidder, but it's all in fun and love. Like yesterday when I talked about the farts...it was all in jest. And the getting high thing? TOTALLY a joke...I've never been high. I've never even been drunk. So please don't be offended at my silliness. Okay? Are you pickin' up what I'm throwin' down? Are we square?

Good. I feel better. Thanks for letting me get that off my keyboard.

Okay, back to the balloons. Tomorrow is the last day of VBS so we wanted to do something special and I think the children are going to love it! Every day they put a balloon inside this beaker if they did their daily challenge (things like pray for a friend, or go for a walk and thank God for the things you see around you) and it was almost all the way full after today. So we made this awesome balloon thingie (yes, thingie...that's a technical term for us professional balloon sculptors) to make it look like their beaker was 'bubbling over'.

I don't mean to brag, but YAY US!

Know what else is worth bragging about? Around 25 children asked Jesus into their hearts today at VBS! Oh yes they did! I'm not even playin'. The actual story of Christ dying on the cross and the prayer asking them to raise their hand if they wanted Jesus in their heart happened in MY station.

No pressure there. None at all.

Yeah right.

I was a nervous wreck! For some reason saying the salvation prayer with people has always intimidated me. I think I worked through that fear today and the reward was incredible. I cried about 18 and a half buckets of happy tears today. God is so good!!!

Next time I'll just buy them floaties

2008-06-11T15:55:00.000-07:00

Holy cow with a bell on! What a day, what a day. Today in my Bible Blast station at VBS we walked on water. It was a wacky, crazy day for my station and it was also a very. big. mess. Oh my what a mess it was. It took like three and a half days (or maybe just an hour) to clean up all the 'walking on water' residue (a.k.a. big, goopy, mess) that we made. It was totally worth all the work and mess and cleaning up though because I think the children really loved today's adventure and had a chance to really experience a Bible story.

It just might have been a little easier to handle all the chaos if they'd have let me ~~sniff~~ color with the permanent markers for a little while. I couldn't find them today though. I think somebody hid them.

I really can't imagine why.

The fun didn't stop with the walking on water either. Oh no it did not because we are all about the fun here! Next they got to go upstairs and make flarp in the science lab. You know the stuff...it's that goo that makes a big, loud, obnoxious fart sound when you put your fingers in it. Each child made a container of it to take home from VBS.

'Cause you know, nothing really says Jesus loves you like a humongo fart.

I know that every time I hear someone pass gas I just smile and say, "Why thank you! Jesus loves you too." Or maybe I say, "Oh my gosh David! You smell like the hind-end of a sick skunk and if you do that one more time your butt in sleeping outside with the other skunks!"

Whatever. It's practically the same thing and it's all said with love.

Ahem.

Moving right along...I received an email from the neurosurgeon that we want to do Lauren's surgery (if we ever finally get to that point) and he said that he sees not one, but two areas that are hypo intense that could both be tumors. Or they may not be. Right. That's real clear. So where does that leave us? Relying on the endocrine testing to tell us we need surgery. That would be just fine if her symptoms weren't cyclic. But they are so now we have to catch things when they are 'high' and get enough 'high' results in a row to get the insurance company and even some of the doctors convinced that it's time for surgery. To me we've had plenty of 'highs', but I'm not a doctor and I do appreciate that they are being cautious. They can't go around ordering brain surgery all willy-nilly. I am just a tad anxious to get this over with and to get my baby better!

Please just continuing praying for wisdom (on both our part and that of her doctors) and also pray for patience while we wait. She sure doesn't feel very well a lot of the time and that makes patience just pretty darn hard to come by.

Tre is hollering for me to come play Club Penguin with him. Again. For the thousandth time. Can you tell I am excited?

I'll talk to you interpeeps later. Til then love and farts ya'll...love and farts (that means Jesus love you...in case you forgot).

If the Holy Land really was holey...

2008-06-09T03:30:00.000-07:00

it would probably be made out of boxes and look a little something like this:

Only hopefully a little less crooked. What can I say? I'm no architect. Plus those permanent markers can put off some mighty strong fumes. Is getting high still wrong if you are getting high for Jesus?

Kidding! I wasn't high at all! Just ask the pink elephants with mohawks and hula skirts that flew in through the window while I was working, they'll totally tell you that I was NOT high.

I KID!

Okay, I'll stop now. I am really kidding and I don't want to get a call from my mom. I had the door open most of the time, and while it did stink (and I did get a headache), nobody got high.

It took me several hours to make that little village for VBS. I am in charge of 'Bible Blast' where the kiddos get to become part of the Bible stories. I am really excited about the start of VBS today. I know God is going to do great things!

Speaking of VBS...remember these 'atoms' I made for the science lab? Well yesterday I was trying to load them in Dave's truck (he had my suburban) and found that only two would fit inside the truck at one time. So I went back inside with one of them, grabbed a few more items to take to the church and came back out to the truck. Only when I got back to the truck there was only ONE atom there. These things are huge and I knew for a fact that I'd put in two. Like an idiot I looked under the seat, in the back seat, and in the glove box (not really), but it was nowhere to be found.

Someone stole my atom. They stole it...an ATOM. Can you believe that? I can't. I'm still trying to figure out some other explanation. I mean who steals an atom? Is there a big demand for atoms made of balloons out on the street that I'm not aware of?

I was pretty disgusted. Those things may look retarded, but I spent a LONG time making them. Then when I went back in to get another one to take the place of the missing atom, the wind caught it and it blew across the yard and a bunch of the balloons popped.

ARGH!

Things were not going well on the atom front. What in the world was going on? Maybe God was trying to save me some embarrassment by destroying my atoms.

If only He'd seen my cardboard village first, He wouldn't have bothered.

Science was never my thing

2008-06-07T18:04:00.000-07:00

I spent a good part of the morning making atoms out of balloons (well, a blonde's version of an atom) for VBS and let me tell ya, it wasn't easy. Those suckers are complicated! I totally gotta give God some props for creating the real deal!

Go God!

You rock!

Way to make the universe!!

Here is a picture of some of my 'atoms'. Aren't they adorkable?

Yeah, I know. I think this pretty much proves that God isn't a blonde.

The post without a point

2008-06-06T09:37:00.000-07:00

I'm bored.

How was that for an interesting start to a post? My girls are out of town and living it up at Nana's and I am home alone. I should be jumping for joy and living it up myself, but I pretty much just miss them. They ARE my joy. Without them I don't really feel like jumping.

So to pass the time I decided to write a post. Then I sat here thinking and realized that I don't have a thing to post about without my kids around. How sad is that? They are the Drama in Mama of a Whole Lotta Drama. Just about the only excitement around here was me trying a new kind of pizza...spinach and portabella mushroom pizza...only I am skeptical about the pizza part because it was square. Pizzas should be round, not square. There is something just wrong about a square pizza.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I'm so bored that I miss school already. I miss the kids and the hundreds of times a day they make me smile. Like the other day when I was walking down the hall and this cute little fourth grader named Kellen walked by. He was dripping sweat and his little face was bright red. He looked like he was about to melt so I said, "Wow Kellen, you look hot." He looked right at me and without missing a beat said, "thank you." It took me a moment to realize that he thought I was calling him hot...as in HOT (I'm getting old and there is a language barrier developing between me and the kiddos). I laughed and told him that I meant he looked hot from the sun outside and he said, "Oh. Yeah, it is hot outside." How can I not love my job?

I just hope he didn't go home and tell his mama that I was hitting on him. I gave up hitting on fourth graders, oh...back when I was in the fourth grade. Or at least when I got married. That totally put a crimp in my fourth grade love affairs.

And in conclusion to this exciting post filled with fourth grade mix-ups and freaky square pizzas I will share with you the new wallpaper on my laptop. I love it.

Results

2008-06-04T18:45:00.001-07:00

Well we finally have the results from Seattle, though I'm not sure how much good they are going to do us. Here they are:

They lost one of her 24 hour urine tests, but the one they didn't lose was high (by high I mean high enough to indicate Cushings).

She had four serum cortisols drawn between midnight and four a.m. that came back high enough to suggest Cushings.

She had two high ACTH serum results that indicate Cushings.

She had a high prolactin test that indicates a problem with her pituitary.

This is all good news. I always thought she had Cushings, but I needed to prove it to get her some help. Now we know that I was right and that she does have Cushings. I am sad that there is something wrong, but glad to know for sure what it is so we can attack it and get her better.

The bad news is that they are cautious about sending someone to brain surgery (I can't blame them for that) and since she is so young they are even more cautious than usual. That means they want to test a little longer and get some more highs before they recommend surgery. I am not as cautious as they are I guess. She is my baby and I want her better NOW.

So I am not sure what step is next for us. We are still praying and talking about it. We are continuing to test for sure, but we are thinking about asking for an IPSS. This is not a fun test. They go in a vein in both legs and go all the way up into her sinus area, inject her with the same CRH that made her so sick before and then take samples from what her pituitary is putting out. This could give us a lot of valuable information, but like I said it wouldn't be fun. So it's a big decision.

Her MRI has been sent to MD Anderson so the doctor that we want to do the surgery can look at it. He is very good at seeing tumors in the pituitary that other people can't see. The radiologist in Seattle couldn't see that her tumor was back. That doesn't mean it isn't. Her symptoms and tests show that it is. However in fifty percent of Cushing's patients they have to do surgery to find the tumor. A very small growth can cause Cushings.

Please pray for wisdom on our part and continued high test results to speed this process along. We want Lauren to feel good for a change. I don't think she even knows what that is. She has been sick for so long.

Oh no he didn't

2008-06-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

Dr. Ludlam's office called with Lauren's results while I was out buying VBS supplies. Dave didn't answer the phone. Yes, you heard me right.

HE DIDN'T ANSWER THE PHONE.

He said he'd rather I talked to them. So now I have to wait until tomorrow to hear what they have to say. I guess that's okay since I won't have time to talk to them tonight anyway. I will be terribly busy building a dog house for my husband to sleep in. It's not going to be one of those hoity toity dog houses either. You know, the kind with the air conditioning and the fluffy little beds. Oh no, he's sleeping in a crappy dog house like my dogs had when I was growing up. Only I'm not putting in hay to make a soft bed like my dad did for our dogs. No, that's too good for him.

Oh I kid. I'm not that mean.

I will add the hay.

Kidding!!! Geez, what kind of monster do you think I am? I would never tell my husband to sleep in a dog house. I'm not that kind of wife. I am kind, loving and compasionate.

He can have the couch.

My VBS shopping went okay. I'm all finished now and have everything I need for next week. I felt kinda odd buying some of the stuff on my list though. Like the 24 boxes of corn starch. I think I've bought a total of one box of corn starch in 17 years of marriage. So it's no surprise that when I was checking out and stacking all 24 boxes on the conveyor belt that it raised some eyebrows. It's also no surprise that I was insulted when the woman in line behind me asked if I ate a lot of cream pies. I guess I shouldn't have told her that she wasn't going to blow away anytime soon either.

What? How was I supposed to know you used corn starch in cream pies??

I am totally kidding. I didn't say that to her, but I did momentarily wonder why she thought I looked fat. Granny would be ashamed. I should learn to make pies.

The girls and I went to see Made of Honor today before I did my shopping. Lauren wanted to see Made of Honor. Brookie wanted to see the new Narnia film. I just based my decision on which movie to see on what was showing the quickest after we got there. It turned out to be Made of Honor, which was fine by me, but not so fine by Brookie. About ten minutes into the movie she said, "This Narnia doesn't look anything like the first one."

She's in the Gifted and Talented program at school ya'll. I bet you can see why.

Okay. I better go. It's hard for Dave to know I'm giving him the silent treatment when I'm in the other room writing in my blog. I better go in the living room so I can ignore him properly.

If you are going to do something, you might as well do it right.

I'm such a big chicken...or is it turkey?

2008-05-31T12:11:00.000-07:00

I'm a scaredy cat. It doesn't take much to have me hiding under the covers in fear of some unseen boogey man. (Don't ask me why people like me pull the covers over our heads when we are frightened. That not only makes us chicken, but it makes us stupid as well. There is no way a thin little sheet is going to save us from any monster...unless it's a killer drier sheet).

Anyway.

I've been a little extra jumpy since we returned from Seattle. I have a good reason too. There was a haunted elevator that kept trying to kidnap me. No really there was. Every time I got on that particular elevator and pushed the first floor it would take me to the basement, but the door wouldn't open. Then it would take me up to the fourth floor (or some other floor...it varied) and the door wouldn't open. It was very creepy and more than once I ended up pressed against the door saying, 'let me out!'

Like I said, I'm a scaredy cat.

But it really is true! That elevator had it in for me. Mom and Lauren sat there and watched it stop on the first floor once and then not open. They were waiting on me and they couldn't figure out why the door wasn't opening. What they didn't know was that I was on the other side once again saying, 'let me out!' Of course Lauren didn't help matters by telling me it was probably haunted by an ancient Swedish Nun and mom didn't help by waiting until it was quiet on the elevator and then jumping around, cupping her face with her hands and yelling, 'boogida-boogida-boogida'. After that I really hated that elevator.

So you can see why I was a little jumpy when I got home from the trip what with all the haunted elevators and scary ancient nun stories. I mean who was to say the nun didn't follow me home? She could have jumped into my suitcase. She may be running (or floating) amuck in my house looking for an elevator to lock me in. Only HA! The jokes on her. I don't have an elevator.

Anyway, this current jumpiness led to me screaming in horror and almost wetting my pants early this morning in my own home. I was up early and doing some housework when I ran across one of Dave's windbreakers that needed to be hung up. I grabbed it and went into the front hall to place it in the coat closet. I didn't turn on the light because the girls were still asleep. Instead I reached into that dark and shadowy closet, praying there weren't spiders or nuns and groped around for a hanger.

Only instead of a hanger my hand wrapped around something really weird feeling. I peered into the darkness and saw a beedy eye staring at me from a severed head. Like any rational adult would do I screamed at the top of my lungs, ran like fool and jumped under my covers. After a little while when no severed head came after me with killer drier sheets I worked up the nerve to go back and get a closer look at whatever was staring at me in the dark closet. I turned on the light and saw this:

It's a turkey decoy my husband uses for hunting. I'm thinking of sicking the nun on him. This is all his fault.

Loving this Loving Award

2008-05-27T16:43:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago I received this lovely award not once, but twice!

Isn't it adorable?? I KNOW! I totally think so too. First I received the award from Angie over at John Deere Mom and I was SO excited...just tickled pick I tell you. Then a few days later I received it again from Sarah over at Reading Teachers Rock. Then I was even more tickled...so much so that I had cute little brown spots on my tickled pink self (I just LOVE brown and and pink together). And yes, that really is the name of her bog. I didn't even pay her to say that. Why would I have to? Reading teachers DO rock, and of course we are also extremely humble.

So now I am supposed to pick a few blogs that I love to pass the award along to. I must admit I am woefully behind on reading blogs (and writing on my own), but I still know which blogs I love. So here's my list and it is filled with wonderful, loving women that I am very blessed to know.

Lama Mama

Mom Mom's Rant

For the Love of Home

Mindless Junque

The Jackson Journey

Tara

Tammie

WeevilMaw

If you ladies want to play along all you have to do is post this award on your blog and pick some of your favorite blogs to brag about. Not that I know a thing about bragging...I'm just a humble little reading teacher that ROCKS.

There's No Place Like Home

2008-05-25T15:36:00.000-07:00

We are home! Yippee Skippee!!!

And home it is. This little town has never felt more like home than it does at this moment. I am so awed and overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support we've received by friends, co-workers and our church family. Everyone has been so amazing.

And we needed it...not the money so much (although there is NO way we could have made the trip to Seattle and back without the love offerings we received), but more the reminder that God loves us. Oh we never really forgot that He loves us, but I for one was letting myself feel a little 'forgotten' by God. I feel ashamed admitting that after the incredible way the Thompson family have kept their faith through their recent trials, but I am just being honest. I used to have a full well of faith. I kept my faith while Shanna suffered all through our childhood and on into adulthood. I kept my faith through five miscarriages. I kept my faith through both girls being very ill at birth and spending time in NICU. I kept my faith through Lauren's open heart surgery and later through the finding of her brain tumor...

But when Shanna died, well I guess I started losing a little bit of my faith. I wasn't really angry with God. I was more hurt. Yes, that's the word. Hurt. My parents have always served God selflessly and raised us in Church. We always believed God could preform a miracle in Shanna's life and keep her here with us, allowing her to be a great witness of His awesome power.

Only He didn't heal her. She suffered her entire life and then died, leaving us (and her wonderful son Tre') to deal with her loss. I found myself starting to ask God why. Why didn't He heal her? Why did He let her suffer so long if He wasn't going to ultimately heal her? Why? Why? Why? When Lauren starting having these horrifying problems lately (problems that I haven't really covered on the blog out of respect for her wishes), I really started feeling abandoned. I wanted to have faith that God could heal Lauren, but I'd watched my sister suffer and then die...my well of faith was running close to empty.

Then the trip for Seattle came up and the people of Munday reminded me exactly how much God loves us. I felt His love through them and their many kindnesses. God does love us and He is in total control of this situation with Lauren. Through their love my well has been refilled. I will forever be grateful for that.

I know you are wondering how Lauren is doing and I'd have to say that overall she is doing very well. During her last test they gave her an injection of Corticotropin-releasing hormone (crh) to stimulate her pituitary tumor (or whatever is causing the ACTH/Cortisol to be so high) and then drew blood every fifteen minutes to see how she reacted. As soon as they gave her the injection she felt like a horse had kicked her in the chest. She felt like she couldn't breathe at all. That passed though and she seemed fine. Then she started turning bright red and got sick to her stomach. The trip home was no picnic for her (although she didn't complain much at all) but she got to know the bathrooms at the airport very well and still feels sick today (three days later). She is still a little red and this afternoon she started having a lot of trouble with her seizures. I have no idea if that is from the CRH or just a coincidence.

We won't know the official results from the test for two weeks when Dr. L calls. I've seen about half of the test results (I had them printed off in medical records again before we left) and so far she has seven test results that are indicative of Cushing's Disease (high cortisol and high ACTH). I can't wait to see the rest of the results and hear what Dr. L suggests we do next. He sent home several tests to do at home and while we wait we will start on those.

Thanks again for all the prayers and support!

Thursday

2008-05-22T05:56:00.001-07:00

Wow, what a night! I have no clue what is wrong with her, but Lauren had an awful night. This was the first night we didn't have to get up and go to the infusion center for tests so I was hoping for a good night of rest for Lauren. Instead what she had was a night full of pain, crying and quite a bit of panic on her part. For some reason she had this weird pain/burning all through her chest. She had a lot of trouble describing it to me as it was not something she'd experienced before. I never did figure out what was wrong. She tried laying on both sides, sitting up, standing up...well, we tried everything. I still don't really have a good grasp on what the pain felt like because she couldn't describe it and was too upset to really try. Ugh. It was NOT fun.

She finally fell asleep around four this morning and has slept well (I have been up watching her like a hawk). My guess is that the dexamethosone that they have her on for tomorrow's stim test is causing this pain. If that is the case it is going to be a very long day and night. She has to continue taking the dex all day today and through the night. Gosh, if made her that sick after the first two doses I am afraid of what seven will do.

Anyway, back to the actual update. We did meet with Dr. Ludlam last night. We didn't leave his office until after six. I can't say he was the friendliest or most encouraging man in the world, but he seems to really know his stuff and that is all that matters. He said we are assuming this is Cushing's Disease and will continue testing until we prove it (which is the only way to get clearance for surgery). He didn't have any of her test results back yet from this week and said he'd call in two weeks after everything was in so he would have the 'big picture' before he talked to us. We were given a kit of home testing stuff (poor Dr. Finley is going to be a busy man) and he told us to expect to be testing a lot because that's how things went with diagnosing cyclic Cushings. The trick is to figure out your cycle. We will be charting every symptom she has while we test. Then we get her 'highs' back, we go back and look at her symptoms. From that point on we try just testing when she has the same symptoms again. This will ensure more 'highs' and makes things easier with the insurance company.

Okay, now for the rest of my news. Remember when I said Dr. Ludlam didn't have any results back from the lab yet? Well I do! I went down to medical records and asked the nice man that works there to pull up anything the lab had entered into the computer and he printed what they've finished so far off for me. Yay! (Shhhh. Don't tell Dr. Ludlam. I don't want to make him angry. I just want to know what's wrong with my baby and two weeks is a looonnnnggg time to a worried mom). Really the only thing back from the round the clock draws is the Cortisol levels...well, some of them. Here is where I will get a tad technical and do a terrible job of explaining things:

Cortisol is high during the day and non-existent at night for most people. It should be <1 at the 12:30 a.m. and midnight draws. Dr. Ludlam considers anything over 1 to be high and anything over 5 to be highly suggestive of Cushings. Lauren had FOUR that were over five in just two nights of late night draws. Her really low numbers showed up during the daytime. This is also suggestive of Cushings because people with this disease have diurnal rhythms that are out of whack (out of whack is a medical term...let me know if you need translation).

Also her prolactin level was very high. This is the hormone that tells your boobs that it is time to become milk factories when you have a baby. This should not be high for Lauren. She isn't expecting a baby and plans to be a vet, not a factory worker. The cause of high prolactin is almost always a pituitary tumor. (Lauren doesn't have milk production yet, but she complains of extremely itchy boobs ALL the time).

Everything I wrote above was just my motherly take on things. I am not a doctor and I have no idea how Dr. Ludlam will interpret those results. Also if you are reading this because of a google search on Cushings or something...seriously, I am NOT an expert or a doctor, just a worried mom that's done a lot of research. So please remember that only your doctor can explain this stuff to you properly.

End disclaimer.

Anywho- today is Lauren's MRI and CT scan. I am hoping that if the tumor really is back that it shows it's ugly mug as plain as the circles under my sleepless eyes (that's really plain folks).

I think that's all for now. I need to get back to staring at my kid.

Hugs and love to you all!

Wednesday

2008-05-21T11:53:00.000-07:00

I want to clarify something. A friend told me last night that my last post sounded 'weird'. When I asked what they meant they said that it sounds like I want Lauren to be sick.

That is absolutely not true!

Lauren is already sick. I wish she wasn't, but she is and the disease she has is cyclic. That means she has days that the tumor doesn't secrete at all. I was just trying to say in my last post that I am afraid that the tumor won't secrete at all this week and this trip won't be very fruitful. It's not that I want her to be sick ever. I don't...never, ever. But if she is going to be sick I want it to show up while we are here having these tests done.

Clear as mud?

As for today it has not been a very eventful day. We were up at 12:00 a.m. and 12:30 a.m. for blood draws and a saliva test. Then again at four and eight for blood work and to finish up another 24 hour urine test. We are meeting with Dr. Ludlam later today and starting some test that requires her to take dexamethasone every six hours through Friday and then they will inject some other type of medication into her (that will make her really sick) and they will draw blood every thirty minutes for a few hours to see how her pituitary is reacting to the injection. I anticipate lots of seizures from this test. If she has too many seizures part of her brain shuts down and she looks like she had a stroke. It's scary when that happens. The last time it did we spent a week in the epi unit.

I will post again after we meet with Dr. Ludlam.

Thanks so much for all the prayer and support. You are all so amazing!

Tuesday

2008-05-20T17:58:00.000-07:00

Today was a good day. Well it was good unless you are the alarm clock in our room, in which case you might have been hit once or eight times. We are in the middle of 32 hours of blood draws that started at 12:01 this morning. We have to get up, get dressed, go down to the Ambulatory Infusion Center, get the tests done, go back to our room, lay down, close our eyes, hear a loud beeping and beat the alarm clock and then get up and start it all again. We repeated this process several times last night and today (minus the part about getting dressed...eventually we just went in our pj's). We will be testing the same way tonight and all day tomorrow. It's quite exhausting.

Lauren is feeling pretty well. She still has some pain where the PICC line was put in, she had some chest pressure/pain after a cortysn stim test, and some dizziness when walking around. Other than that she has had nothing negative to say.

Unless you think calling the alarm clock a doodie head is negative.

Tomorrow we meet with Dr. Ludlam. I think I told some of you that we have the CT scan and MRI tomorrow, but I was mistaken. Those happen on Thursday. Tomorrow is just lots more blood work and the doctor's appointment.

I must admit I am ready to go home already. I miss Dave and Brookie. Plus the TAKS scores came in and I wasn't there to congratulate my students (who all did really well on their reading tests). I'll just have to give them big hugs when I get back.

I have met a few women here with Cushings. One girl went through this week long testing protocol three times with no high results to help her get to surgery. She finally got high results testing at home and is heading to surgery next week. It worries me to hear that kind of story. So many people helped with this trip and I feel like expectations are high for something big to happen on this trip. I hope we do get to the bottom of things quickly, but I'm worried it won't go that smoothly and people won't understand.

Oops...Brookie is calling from Mrs. Wilson's house (that's where she is staying tonight). Talk to you guys tomorrow!!

quick update

2008-05-19T20:37:00.000-07:00

Hello internets! Whew. What a day. It was by far the easiest testing schedule that Lauren will have all week. All we had to do was some blood tests, start a 24 hour urine, and get a PICC line put in. Everything went beautifully when they put in the PICC line. It seemed almost too good to be true and of course, it was.

About 45 minutes after they put in the PICC line and let us go back to our room we received a call from the Ambulatory Infusion Center. The radiologist looked at Lauren's chest x-ray and was not happy with the way the line curved at the end. Apparently it was too close to her heart. So they asked us to return immediately to have it repaired. I must admit this scared me a little, but I shouldn't have worried. They fixed it up and sent us on about our way. It was no big deal.

While we were in getting the PICC line we met another patient that is undergoing the same tests Lauren is. She was very nice. She ended up taking us around and showing us a few sites (she is local). Today was her birthday and we took her out to eat for dinner.

Lauren's PICC line is very sore. She feels like the tube is poking her. They said it is probably hitting exposed nerves which can be painful. She is icing the cut they made and taking pain medication. We hope it feels better by tomorrow.

We start more testing tonight (well technically tomorrow morning) starting at 12:00 a.m. She will test again at 12:30 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. and then 800 a.m. and noon (and so on and so forth). For the next 36 hours she will be testing around the clock. Sometimes it is just blood draws. Sometimes it is urine or salivary collections or stim tests.

Thanks for the prayers and nice notes. We love you all.

Prayer Request

2008-05-18T20:43:00.000-07:00

I was halfway done with a light and fun post when I received a text from home (we are in the hospital in Seattle right now) saying that two brothers from the town where I live were in an accident. They are both wonderful people with wonderful families and beautiful sweet, children. Neither are doing well at all. Obviously I stopped writing my post and turned my attention to praying. If you read this, whether you know them or not, please, please pray for these men. Their names are Tyler and Trey. They need all the prayers they can get right now.

I had so much to tell everyone, but that will have to wait. For now here is a quick update on us. We made it safely to Seattle and are settled in at the hospital. Tomorrow is by far our easiest day of the week. Lauren has a few tests first thing in the morning (just starting a 24 hour urine test and having a few blood tests done). Then at one she has her PICC line put in. She is really nervous about this, but I know she'll do great. Then I think we are done for the day. We will start her blood draws and the other tests at 12:01 a.m. on Tuesday and will have to report to the lab four or five times before dawn for tests (and then she'll have lots more during the day Tuesday).

I will update again tomorrow night. Please pray for Trey and Tyler.

Does Midol come in chocolate flavor?

2008-05-13T19:03:00.000-07:00

As soon as I get the girls straightened out I have got to get myself to the girly doctor, and by girly doctor I mean the one that has the stirrups and the gloves (sorry Dad) (and any other unsuspecting male that stumbled upon my blog). I need to get my hormones checked out. Something weird is going on. It could just be stress, but man, my body is going KUH-RAY-ZEE! I am emotional, my face is breaking out, and I have so many periods now that I could be the Declaration of Independence. Only if I were it would read something like this...

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Chocolate.

Don't be offended. It's just the hormones talking. Plus, the words chocolate and happiness are pretty much interchangeable anyway.

Speaking of happiness, my mom gave me the prettiest bracelet for a belated birthday present last weekend which made me very happy. It was made of sterling silver beads and would have gone with just about everything. Notice how I used the past tense when I described my new bracelet? I bet you are wondering why. I know my mom is.

Well, it's like this. I was in the bathroom today at work and when I was finished taking caring of my girly business (sorry again Dad) (and random strange men) I went to wipe and my bracelet slipped right off my wrist and landed in the potty with an impressive splash that my bottom did not appreciate. I sat there for a moment in stunned silence, looking down at my beautiful new bracelet resting at the bottom of the toilet. I wanted to reach right down and grab it, but ewww. So I thought to myself, oh I know! We have gloves in the nurses office. I'll just run and grab a pair of those and then fish it out. My brilliant plan would have worked too, but I was forgetting one thing.

Automatic toilets.

Yes, that's right. Our school went all twenty-first century this summer and as soon as I stood up it was bye-bye bracelet, hello Christy screaming in horror and jumping around with her pants around her ankles.

Curses on you futuristic toilet! Did it ever occur to you that I might not be finished pottying yet? Maybe I was just getting up to stretch or maybe my left cheek was going to sleep and I needed to move around a little or MAYBE, just MAYBE my lovely new bracelet that my mom gave me for my birthday fell into your evil, watery bowels (no pun intended) and MAYBE I wanted it back. But noooo, you just had to get into a hurry to show off and flush before I was ready.

Okay. It just occurred to me that I was talking to a toilet. A toilet that I seriously doubt reads my blog. See what I mean by hormonal?

All men may be created equal, but all toilets are not.

(And I could really use some of that chocolate about now)

Rambling

2008-05-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

Here are a few more pictures taken by Lauren. I may have posted the picture of Madame Dog already. It is one of my favorites. It always makes me smile. I can imagine how Lauren looked trying to lay under that squatty little dog just to take that shot.

I can't believe it is less than a week until we leave for Seattle. I am both excited and nervous. I am nervous because I have met some other mothers of children with Cushing's Disease so I have a pretty good idea of what is in store for Lauren this week. It won't be a fun week for her. In fact it will be a really rough week. Of course I am excited because this is the first big step on the path to Lauren's cure. She has been sick for so long. To the outside observer one would think she was healthy. She doesn't whine or carry on about her pains, seizures or the mental effects of her illness. She puts on a happy face and does her best to enjoy each day. She deserves a normal, healthy life. She shouldn't have to fight for that, no child should have to fight for their basic health.

I spent a lifetime of watching my sister fight to feel good...a lifetime that at times seemed like a hundred lifetimes. She fought hard and was always a positive person, even in the most difficult of times. I see a lot of her in Lauren. Lauren dreams of her often at night. She loves these dreams. It makes her feel close to her Aunt Noo Noo. Sometimes I think Shanna is coming to visit Lauren in her dreams to help her through this rough time. That sounds like something she would do. She loved the girls so much.

I wish she would visit me too. I really miss her.

If I was any more thankful you'd have to stuff me for Thanksgiving

2008-05-11T17:11:00.001-07:00

I took Brooklyn to the Nephrologist on Friday and things went very well. He doesn't think anything major is wrong (thank You God!), but sent her to the hospital for a renal ultrasound just in case. If nothing shows up amiss on the ultrasound he wants us to try six weeks of bladder retraining. He thinks she is never fully emptying her bladder and that is allowing bacteria to grow and I guess causing some type of protein to be there. So all we have to do is make her tinkle twice in the morning (about twenty minutes apart), twice around lunch and twice before bed. This is so she will learn what it feels like to have her bladder totally empty. Then we just go back and see if the protein is gone. If it's not, we start back at square one and look for a different answer. I have my fingers crossed that this is all that was wrong and we have nothing serious to deal with.

She hasn't been throwing up anymore either. That stopped a day before the Nephrologist appointment. Since she was feeling better I called and canceled Monday's appointment with the GI guy in Dallas. I can always get another appointment if the problem starts up again.

Whew! One sick child better and one to go. We leave next Sunday morning for Seattle. I am getting very nervous. She is going to have some pretty tough tests next week and I just pray, pray, and pray some more that they find everything they need to set up her surgery.

I have to share the most amazing thing with you guys. On Thursday before we left for my mom's house we checked the mail and there were three cards in there. The first was signed by our Sunday school class members and there was 1200.00 in it. The second was signed by another lady in our church (and others...it really said that...'and others') and it had 750.00 in it. The last wasn't signed at all and it had 300.00 in it.

WOW.

God is so good ya'll. I totally didn't know how we were going to make it through this month after buying the Seattle tickets. Then there has been all the driving back and forth to Dallas with Brookie (at a hundred dollars a trip), all of Lauren's medications, and other expenses that were just making me a nervous wreck. I was trying my very hardest to trust in God and not fret, but this is by far my biggest weakness. I just worry myself sick over things instead of having faith and trusting that God will meet our needs. I have no idea why I do this. He has never once let us down, but still I worry.

Dave is going to stand up at church Sunday and thank everyone, but I want to say it here too.

THANK YOU ALL! Thank you so very much. I cried when I opened the cards. Dave teared up. Lauren stood there with her mouth hanging open, just amazed that people cared that much about her to do this. Brookie asked for a hundred dollar bill. Sorry! Three out of four grateful hearts isn't bad though!

I know God is going to pour blessings down on each of you, just as you've blessed us.

Bottoms and Blessings

2008-05-07T15:08:00.000-07:00

We had quite a bit of hullabaloo and excitement at our little elementary school today. The tornado siren went off in the midst of an awful storm. We have no basement in our school so we lined up all our precious little children in the hallways and had them bend over facing the walls and cover their heads with a book.

Yeah, I know. It's the best we can do in an emergency. Well, that and pray.

I don't get too nervous during storms, but at one point things looked pretty bad out the double doors of the school and I wondered if rows and rows of tiny butt cracks would be the last thing I'd ever see.

What?? What did you expect from hundreds of bend over children? All you could see of them was their cracks. It looked like the Texas Public School of Plumbing. All we needed was a few tool belts and some training in the art of overpricing.

No offense to the plumbers out there (or their cracks).

Although while we are on the subject of cracks (how did that happen again?) I'd like to make a suggestion. If you happen to be a plumber and you go out knowing full well that your crack will be making an appearance then might I suggest a little big of waxing? Naked crack is one thing, but naked crack with hair...well, that's a whole other (furry) animal.

Ahem.

What was I saying again? Oh yes, the tornado. We were blessed and the tornado missed our town and our school. We had a few power lines and trees down, but nobody was hurt (that I know of). The Lord is so good.

And now on to other important things.

Like my hair. It was pouring down rain when I got out of the shower this morning so I decided to just let it dry naturally. I have naturally curly (aka frizzy) hair so it is a big fat waste of time to fix it on a rainy or humid day. No matter how much I blow dry and straighten it, it still tries to go curly on me. So instead of fighting with it today, I just let it curl. I didn't think it looked all that bad...at least I didn't think it was all that bad until I got to school.

You'd have thought I'd grown a moustache and changed my name to Frank. They giggled. They stared. They pointed. They fainted.

Okay. I made that last one up. But they really did act shocked and somewhat appalled. One little third grader said, "Your hair is really too curly for me, but it works for you." I said, "It's not a new hairstyle. It will be back to normal tomorrow," and she was sooo relieved. She let out a huge breath and said, "Oh thank goodness."

So you live and learn. Today's lessons:

1. If you have a hairy crack, be sure and wax it. You never know when there is going to be a tornado. (Unless of course you are a plumber, in which case you can dress however you want and charge whatever you please).

2. Do not wear your hair in big, frizzy curls. This isn't the eighties.

3. I work with a wonderful group of women who put the safety of the children in their classes before their own safety without giving it a second thought.

4. I am blessed.

Brookie

2008-05-05T19:55:00.001-07:00

Brookie and I made the eight hour round trip to Dallas to see the pediatric Urologist today. I couldn't wait to go so that I could find out what was wrong with her and stop worrying so much. Unfortunately I didn't find out anything. This doctor is sending her to two other doctors. One is a nephrologist (kidney specialist) and one is a GI doctor (abdominal specialist I think). The only thing I really learned was that there was still protein in her urine and that sometimes people just have that for no reason and it is nothing to worry about. We have to go to the nephrologist to find out if Brookie is one of those people. I can't wait to tell my boss that I have to miss even more work. That should be fun.

The good news is that the 'spells' of sickness and pain are getting farther and farther apart. She made it most of the day Saturday without getting sick. We walked all over an art festival in Austin and she had no problems. It wasn't until later that night at the One Act Play contest (where we placed second...woohoo) that she started throwing up again.

While we were at the festival Brookie had a caricature done of herself. She loves this picture. She thinks it is so cool to know what she'd look like if she were a cartoon. I told her if anyone should be in the funny papers it is her! Here is the picture she had drawn:

I won't know the dates for the other two appointments until tomorrow. I will be sure and let everyone know how they go. Thanks for all the prayers and well wishes!

Teacher Tales

2008-04-30T12:56:00.000-07:00

When we got home from Wichita the other day we found a package of baby bottles in one of our Walmart bags. None of us picked them up and we had no idea where they came from. Maybe it's a sign from above. I certainly hope not. If God thinks I am going to have another baby He is barking up the wrong uterus. We are done. D. O. N. E.

I might have to delete that last statement. I don't want to be struck down by lightening for being flippant with God...or worse, struck down with triplets.

I was kidding anyway, more children would not upset me. It's Dave that would freak (hear that God? Strike HIM down with triplets, not me. Spread the saggage around. He'd look great with saggy man-boobs).

As for me, I adore children. They make me laugh. Just this week there was a picture of a hamster in a book at school and this little girl said, "That's where my uncle lives, New Hamster."

Get it? New HAMSTER. Only she wasn't kidding and how can you not love that? I still smile every time I think about it.

And then there was this sweet little fourth grader that I tutored in math over the summer. I worked with her quite a bit this school year as well. She is such a doll and she was worrying herself sick over the Math TAKS test. So yesterday I took a necklace that a good friend gave me for my birthday to school with me.

Here is a picture of it:

That little dot in the middle is a mustard seed. Well, I pulled her from class before the test and told her the Bible said that faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. I told her I wanted her to wear the necklace during the test and that when she started doubting herself she was to rub it to remind herself to have faith!

Her mom told me that later that day she said that the test was really hard and that she kept rubbing and rubbing my necklace, but that God never did tell her a single answer! I guess I failed at explaining the purpose of the necklace!

I could tell stories like this all day long. I am so blessed to have a job that lets me work with such amazing children all day long. Then I get to come home to two amazing girls of my own!

Just think of the fun I'll have after Dave has the triplets!

Sleepless in Texas

2008-04-27T16:37:00.000-07:00

Boy howdy, being a mom can plum tucker a gal out! Brookie got sick Friday evening and by the middle of Saturday night she was really sick. The night was filled with much tossing and turning and screaming and crying and whining about not being able to sleep.

And then after I told Dave to go sleep in another room, there was still Brookie to deal with.

Oh I'm kidding. Dave didn't scream.

Much.

Finally on Sunday we decided to take Brookie to the ER. That is something I never do. I'm not one of those moms that runs off to the ER every time one of the kids sneezes or wheezes. I was really worried about Brookie though. She cried and writhed around for almost five hours during the night Saturday night holding her stomach like a porcupine was fighting it's way out of her belly button. Plus she hadn't kept a bit of food or drink down for 48 hours.

It turns out she just has a nasty virus. Praise God it wasn't something serious! Unfortunately there was still a high level of protein in her urine, but we already knew about that and we are getting it checked out with a specialist on May 5 in Dallas. So we are back home and she is still feeling poorly, but hopefully she will be well by morning.

I have even more to praise God about. Dr. Ludlam called Friday and told us that Lauren would be coming out to Seattle the week of May 19. She will be staying at the hospital five nights and will have a whole host of tests run. We are very hopeful that they'll find all that they need to refer her for surgery. Maybe by the end of the summer she'll be all better. Man that would be great!

You hear that God? We'd like Lauren better by the end of the summer. That's THIS summer. The summer of 2008.

That would be great. Thanks God.

(I'll be sure and pray that prayer, just in case God doesn't read my blog). (But I totally know He does.)

Apparently what's good for the farms, ain't so good for me

2008-04-24T04:23:00.000-07:00

Last night the girls and I decorated the teacher's lounge for a little baby shower for our sweet school nurse. As we were leaving the school I opened the door and was greeted with the refreshing smell of recent rain. I smiled and said, "Oh yay! It rained. That is good news for the farmers." Brookie stopped walking, looked up at me, and said, "yeah, but it's not so good for your hair."

You can see what the priorities are in my household.

1. Mom's hair
2. Rain to nourish the crops
3. World hunger

Right. As long as my hair stays up there at number one we are doing A-OK.

Speaking of my hair, yesterday in a fourth grade reading group I had the children writing facts and opinions on dry erase boards. I told them to write a fact about me. One sweet little girl wrote, "Mrs. S has blonde hair," and then she wrote in parenthesis, "No offense." No offense??? Me thinks perhaps I should have been offended, but I am not sure why.

I guess I am just too blonde to figure it out.

And now that my hair and it's blonde attributes have been thoroughly covered (I know ya'll were all on the edge of your chairs reading that exciting stuff) I will give you a quick update on me and my world.

Because, you know, we've already established it's all about me (and good hair days).

Before I dive into the scoop about Lauren let me give a shout out to Brookie who couldn't be left out of the fun here at Camp Stress Mom Out. She hasn't been feeling so great for the past few weeks. It has never been anything really specific. She just says, "Mom, I don't feel good." When I ask what's wrong I get something like, "I just feel funny." Yeah. Doctors are great a diagnosing that. I pretty much chalked it up to needing a little of the attention we were dishing out to Lauren and loved on her and then went on my way. Well, about a week ago she got a little more specific and mentioned it burned when she went to the bathroom. I decided to run her by the clinic. If nothing else at least she'd know I cared. I think she was getting annoyed that I hadn't rushed her off to the doctor and I'd taken Lauren approximately 1,993,204 times.

So I took her in and they did a quick urinalysis for me and although she didn't have a bladder infection, she did have protein in her urine. No big deal, just come back in a week and do it again. We went back in a week (that was yesterday) and there it was again, protein. Suddenly it was a big deal. We go to a pediatric urologist on May 5. I'm sure it's nothing, but I am a little freaked out by it because that is just how I roll. I freak.

Let the freak times roll.

As for Lauren, well, it's a long story. She is going to go to Seattle to see Dr. Ludlam. He is a really well known endocrinologist that specializes in Complex Cushings. People come from all over the world to see him. We had a phone consult with him last week and I sent an email ahead of time showing pictures of Lauren's stretch marks, hump and red face (during a spell). I also sent some test results, a medical history time-line and a list of symptoms. He told me on the phone that he already thinks she has Cushings, he is just going to help us prove it so we can get her better. I'm all for getting that child better. She's been through enough.

So basically we'll go to Seattle for a week. She'll stay at the hospital there. They put in a picc line (or however it's spelled) and run a whole heck of a lot of tests. Then we come home and run a heck of a lot more. This is a very difficult disease to diagnose.

I'll let you all know when we are going as soon as I know. They are working on the logistics and will call as soon as things are set up.

Gotta finish getting ready for work now.

Peace, love and good hair days to you all.

n = embarrassment squared

2008-04-21T17:19:00.000-07:00

As I was sitting there trying to help Lauren with her math (I say trying because Math is not my forte) I had a Math flashback...

It was my senior year in College and the only class all the way through four years of higher learning that gave me the least bit of trouble was college Algebra...and boy howdy did it ever give me trouble! In fact it was so difficult for me that I had to hire a tutor. The sad thing is that this tutor was a Sophomore in high school.

Yeah, I know...when it comes to math I am a few fries short of a happy meal.

And Happy Meals were exactly what I was afraid I'd be serving for a living if I didn't get help. That's what drove me to ask a mere 15 year old to help me with my course. His name was Lanny and his mom was my partner teacher that year. Lanny was tall, lanky, pimply and very shy. Looking back I feel sorry for the boy for having to spend so many afternoons explaining over and over again why N could equal Q and P could equal coocklydoodlydoo (as you can see the finer points of what Lanny taught me have stuck with me lo these many years).

This particular math flashback (what? Don't try and pretend that you don't have mathematical flashbacks) (it's not like I am weird or something) took place on a Saturday afternoon at my house. Lauren was about three and Dave must have been at a track meet or something because he wasn't home. We were over two hours into the studying (on a lesson that I am sure should have taken about ten minutes, but like I told you people, I am missing fries!) when Lauren walked into the room.

She was the cutest little tyke back then...all chubby cheeks and curly hair...and as always she was being perfect and wonderful...we barely knew she was around. That is why I didn't pay much attention when she walked up behind us at the table. I knew she was dragging something behind her, but I didn't bother to turn around and see what it was. After a few moments of being ignored she finally spoke up and said in her adorable toddler voice, "Mommy I haff somfin that you need."

Since I was in the middle of wrestling a big bear in the form of a math problem I didn't even look back at her. I just held out my hand and as soon as she placed something in my palm I said, "thank you baby." And then I placed the something on the table.

And then I looked at the something.

And then I almost died of embarrassment right there on the spot.

The 'something' she had been dragging around was a whole bunch of condoms still together in a row. And there they were on my table between me and a 15 year old kid!

I jumped up and grabbed those suckers and flew to my bedroom at warp speed to put them away. Then I came out and stammered a few dozen apologies to Lanny, who was suddenly beet red and wouldn't look me in the eye anymore.

I did go on to pass that math class and Lanny never even mentioned the incident to his mom (although I did). I suppose he was probably too embarrassed.

Now it's ten years later and the tables have turned. Suddenly I am the embarrassing one and Lauren is the one that has to worry about what I will do and say around her friends.

I must say, I am liking this much better than Algebra. Now if we only still used condoms I could REALLY embarrass her!

The banjo wasn't the only thing we picked

2008-04-09T18:20:00.000-07:00

Hey internets, meet my cousins! This is the gang one Christmas. We are at my Granny's and we are all looking at someone...if I had to guess it is my Aunt Sharon. She is usually the one doing the bossing. That is me in the dark blue dress (looked real happy didn't I?). The little blonde kinda in front of me is my sister Shanna. Wasn't she adorable? And next to her is my cousin Jackie (in the glasses). You might read her blog MomMom's Rant.

When I first posted this picture I was planning on poking fun at the high number of my cousins who have their fingers in their noses (hi Del!) or in their mouths. But then I noticed where MY hands were and I thought maybe I should keep my mouth shut.

Geez I look like a porn star in the making!

Of course when I saw this next picture and the furniture my poor parents were forced to sit upon I can almost understand what drove me to the life of a young porn star. They needed help! I must have been desperate to save them from the hideousness. I can almost hear the banjo playing in the background, can't you??

This is me, Shanna (the baby) and Chad.

More Lauren

2008-04-08T18:19:00.000-07:00

She amazes me. I am SO incredibly blessed to have her for a daughter. She is suffering in ways right now that I can't even begin to describe (and that she'd rather keep private) and yet she still finds beauty in the world around her.

She told me tonight that if she was on American Idol she would sing a song that told the world how great God is and for a moment I was ashamed at my own lack of faith. She is the one suffering and yet her faith is stronger than mine. Her favorite song is 'Praise You In This Storm' by Casting Crowns. The ability to praise God even in the midst of tribulation is a powerful thing. She is wise beyond her years. She always has been.

Now if only I can be as mature as my 13 year old...

Giving to the Max

2008-04-06T14:12:00.000-07:00

She was a tall, big boned girl with masses of pitch black frizzy curls that framed her dirty face in an unkempt fashion. The combination of her pale skin and the trail of freckles across her nose hinted that her hair's midnight hue was by choice rather than by birth. Her clothes were usually ill-fitting and her scent brought to mind dusty attics filled with mice and mothballs. She was always alone and made sure she stayed that way with excentracies like picking lice from her hair in class and talking to herself as she walked through the high school corridors.

Her name was Mary, but everyone called her Scary Mary. She endured four years of teasing, taunting and pranks in my high school and never once acted like she cared or even noticed. I noticed though and it really bothered me. I tried to be nice to her, but she was like an island unto herself and I was an unwanted bridge to the world of adolescent chaos around her. She basically ignored my attempts at friendship the same way she ignored the cruelty of the other students. I never really stopped trying though. I would sit behind her in homemaking class (praying that I didn't get lice) while everyone else sat on the other side of the room. I would speak to her in the hall and occasionally asked her to join me at lunch. She never really responded to me, but I felt better for at least trying.

At some point in the midst of our journey through the world of high school dramatics a boy by the name of Matt broke my heart (or so I thought at the time). Shortly after I was seen crying over a hateful note he wrote me in Biology class, a sign showed up on Matt's locker. I won't repeat what it said here, because it wasn't nice, but Matt was furious with me and accused me of leaving the sign. I assured him I didn't do it, but he did not believe me. That sign was just the first of many and I was as baffled as he was as to who the culprit could be.

It wasn't until my Senior year when I asked Mary to sign my yearbook that I found out what really happened. I remember being shocked that she actually agreed to sign my yearbook and even more shocked at what she wrote inside. She said that I was the only friend she'd ever had and that if it had not been for me being nice to her she wouldn't have been able to make it through school. She then went on to tell me she was the one who had left all those signs on Matt's locker and that she did it to make him pay for making me cry.

I learned a big lesson from Mary that day. Actually the lesson came from my parents who always taught us to treat others the way we would want to be treated, but Mary really reinforced that lesson when she left me that note in my yearbook. I had no idea that my small acts of kindness (I really should have done more) had made such an impact on her life. It really helped me to see that even something as simple as a smile or a hello could help brighten someone's day or maybe even do more than that...maybe even give them a reason to keep trudging through the difficulties they faced in life.

That was fifteen years ago and this week at school I was reminded of Mary and the lesson she helped me learn all those years ago. Any teacher will tell you that there are children that get on our nerves. I wish I could say that we adore every minute that we spend with each and every one of them, but that would be a lie. I am not saying that we don't love them all. I know I do, but there are a few of them that really try my patience.

One such child is a first grader that we'll call Max. Max flat out wears me out. I have him only thirty minutes a day for a reading group and they are thirty of the longest minutes in my day. I find myself saying things like...

Max sit down.

Max stop touching her.

Max sit down.

Max put that up.

Max please follow along.

Max sit down.

Max do not put your boogers on my table.

Max do not put that booger back in your nose!

Max sit down.

Max.

Max.

Max.

I work with over fifty children so there is more than one Max in my life. I can honestly say that I always try to remain patient and loving with all the Maxes in my classes (try being the magic word). I may be dying to pull my hair out on the inside and longing for the wooden spoon that has warmed my own girl's backsides, but I do not let it show (too much). I have had to be very firm with Max (and those like him) on more than one occasion, but I do try to make sure they understand that I am doing it because I love them and I want what is best for them.

This past Friday I was walking down the hall when Max ran up and threw his arms around my legs. Then he looked up at me and said, "I am going to miss you sooooo much!" My first thought was that he was moving so I said, "Oh no, where are you going Max?" He just looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "I'm not going anywhere. It's the weekend. I hate the weekends because I don't get to see you and I miss you." My heart melted. I hugged him back and told him I would miss him too.

As I watched him walk away I was reminded of Mary. There are so many kids like Mary and Max in the world. They don't quite fit into the mold of 'normalcy' that we have been conditioned to expect, but that doesn't mean that don't need love and acceptance just as much as the rest of us. In fact, I am quite certain that many times they need it even more.

I am grateful to Max for reminding me that my actions can make a difference. On any given day my smile may be the only smile directed a child's way...my arms may be the only arms to hug them...my ears may be the only ears to really stop and listen to what they have to say...my heart may be the only heart to love them.

There are more important things than teaching someone to read.

I thank God for allowing me to help teach (and learn) those lessons.

Lauren

2008-04-04T03:36:00.000-07:00

Some of you have been asking me how Lauren is doing and where things stand. The answer is I don't know really. After we went to Dallas our endo was fairly certain Lauren's tumor was back and her pituitary had gone haywire. I talked to him on the phone yesterday for a long time and he seems to still think that is the case, only the tumor can't be seen on the MRI (yet). It is probably there and just isn't visible yet. He said a very small regrowth could cause major problems with her endocrine system since the pituitary controls all the hormones. So the bottom line is that he needs a lot more tests. We will be starting those next week.

We are also considering taking her to MD Anderson in Houston this summer and letting them sort things out there. I personally think he was right about the Cushings Disease and about the tumor being back, but now we just have to find it and prove it via all these tests.

In case a google search leads someone here that has some insight about Cushings or pituitary issues here is a list of Lauren's symptoms:

spells where she feels very 'shaky' inside

tachycardia (during spells)

high blood pressure (during spells)

bright red cheeks (during spells)

headaches

fatigue

muscle weakness

muscle pain (the least little activity leaves her in pain for days)

bone pain (and early signs of vertebrae degeneration on bone scan)

precocious puberty (started puberty at age five)

weight gain

dark purple stretch marks on stomach (and now starting across her back)

anxiety attacks (having a BIG problem with this right now)

forgetfulness

starting to get hair on her face (this just started)

hair is starting to fall out (she has great hair...this is new too)

frequent dizzy spells

she does have the very round face and the 'buffalo hump' that is described in Cushing's patients too (only her Cortisol level was in the normal range on the last urine test so she either doesn't have it or it's cyclic...we think it's cyclic)

At times she has really dark, dark rusty looking areas on her knees and elbows. Those are gone right now.

I am sure there is more, but you get the general idea about what is going on here. As things develop I will let you guys know what's up. As always, thanks for the prayers!

And just because I am proud of her and like showing her off, here are a few of Lauren's recent photographs:

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2008-04-03T16:43:00.000-07:00

I took Brookie and her friend 'C' to see High School Musical on ice last night. We ended up with front row seats on the floor (don't ask me how, I didn't even get tickets until two days before the show). They had a really good time watching the show and I had a really good time watching them enjoy themselves. I also had a really good time listening to them talk. Here are a few snippets from their conversations:

The elaborate plan for a first kiss...

C: Here is my plan. I will take him to a Chinese restaurant that looks like we are really China. Then I will lean down and I will tell him I have a secret. But only the trick is, I won't really have one. Then when he leans close to me to hear my fake secret I am going to kiss him right on his cheek. And then I am going to be the happiest girl alive.

On having children...

C: I think we should move in together when we grow up because we can't marry anybody.

B: Why can't we?

C: Because if we get married we will have to have babies and I want to avoid that whole baby making thing.

B Why?

C: Because it's gross, that's why. And if I did get married I would tell him right off that we won't be doing that so just back off mister.

B: Doing what?

C: Making babies. You aren't listening to a word I say are you? Anyway, where do you want to live?

B: By Sea World.

C: Fine. We will live in San Francisco.

B: I think you mean San Antonio.

C: Whatever. And I could have all the cats I want and you could have all the dogs you want. And when they had babies there would be no mean mom and dad to tell us to give them away because we could do anything we want. Either that or we could live in Hollywood, New York. That would be cool too.

On screaming at the top of your lungs...

C: Wow that felt good!

Me: What did?

C: Screaming. They never let me do that at home.

On Half-Naked Men...

Me: What was your favorite part?

C: I liked all the parts with Troy and Gabriela.

Me: Me too. What about you Brookie?

B: Well...ummm...don't be mad, but my favorite part was the part where Troy took his shirt off.

Me: You said you didn't like this Troy because he wasn't as cute as the one on the movie.

B: That was before he took his shirt off.

Me: Oh.

Me again a few moments later: Hey Brookie?

B: What?

Me: You can't date 'til you are ninety.

My New Bestest Friend Forever

2008-04-02T13:27:00.001-07:00

The coolest thing happened the other day. I went to pick up some high school boys for dyslexia retraining and the substitute wouldn't let them leave with me. And do you know why she wouldn't let them leave? Do you??? I hope not because I am dying to tell you!

SHE THOUGHT I WAS A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT!

No really, she did. You can stop laughing now.

She actually thought I was a teenager! Sure she was old as Moses and wore glasses, but she did think I was a student. She apologized later and told me she had to go check and see if my story was true because I just didn't look old enough to be a teacher.

When she said that she officially became my BFF! Now if you'll excuse me I am going to see if she wants to go shopping later. I totally need some Clearasil and one of those new push up bras all the other teens are wearing and I am thinking that she might need something too...

like new GLASSES!

Note to self...

2008-03-30T07:41:00.001-07:00

Pink electric guitars and amps are not good gift ideas for eight year old girls.

Pink is a sweet and cute and girly color. I have always loved pink (cause, you know, I am sweet and cute and girly) (cough cough).

Well I am here to tell ya that the pink, it ain't always sweet.

Sometimes it is loud and obnoxious and reminds you of Gene Simmons.

Calgon take me away. Translation: somebody pour me a drink.

(or buy me some earplugs)

The Blahs

2008-03-24T09:27:00.000-07:00

I keep trying to write a post but everything keeps coming out whiny and reads something like this:

I am really worried about Lauren's brain tumor coming back...blah blah blah...my brother is being a turd and stressing my mom out...blah blah blah...I miss my sister....blah blah blah....I am worried about Tre...blah blah blah...I feel like a terrible mother for waiting this long to take Lauren back to her endo...blah blah blah...At least my sex life is great...blah blah blah...Wait, how did that get in there?....blah blah blah...I hope I am not coming down with Turrets...blah blah blah...

But I don't want to write about that stuff. I want my blog to be light and fun, not sad and depressing. So instead of writing a post I will just share a picture of my adorable little bunny Brooklyn.

I almost fainted...

2008-03-20T13:15:00.000-07:00

when I saw this...

This is the receipt from Lauren's doctor's appointment yesterday. See the part that is circled in red? The part that says $1148.00? That was our total. They don't take insurance. I'm sure you can see why I almost fell out on the floor. I would have too, but I was afraid of what the cost of throwing my unconscious body out into the hall would be.

Cost of dumb blonde removal: $899.00.

It was the fear of extra charges that kept me on my feet. Well, that and the anticipation of driving through Dallas traffic at five o'clock. Cause I was really looking forward to that, let me tell ya.

Of course I don't really mind the money. Lauren is worth every penny. The doctor is the one that helped with her brain tumor (pituitary actually) before. He is very thorough and very good. We really like him. He isn't sure what is going on with Lauren right now so he ran LOTS of tests. He is guessing that her tumor is back and that she has cushings. We aren't sure about that yet though.

Would you guys do me another favor? Pray that God gives Lauren's doctor's the wisdom to find out exactly what is wrong and how to treat it. I promise I won't ask you to pray again (for at least five minutes).

Down on the farm...

2008-03-16T23:12:00.000-07:00

I saw my little brother yesterday. I wish I could say I stopped by his apartment or ran into him at the Piggly Wiggly, but the truth is I drove to a state mental institution to see him. He has had an extremely hard time dealing with Shanna's death, we all have, but in the midst of his hard time he decided to take over fifty xanax in addition to some other medication. He says he wasn't trying to kill himself, that he just wanted to go to sleep and forget everything.

You say potato, I say suicide attempt.

Really it doesn't matter if he was deliberately trying to hurt himself or not, the end result was the same. He needed help and now he is getting it. I am just praying that he will have an open mind and will listen to what the doctors and therapists are saying. More importantly, I am praying that he will reconnect with God. I certainly couldn't' have made it through Shanna's death without His help.

Growing up is hard. I know I am already the ripe old age of 34, but it doesn't seem like all that long ago that I was living at home with Chad and Shanna. We had our whole lives ahead of us and I wouldn't have dreamed in a million years that things would turn out the way they have.

Chad is three years younger than I am. He is handsome, charming and very, very smart. I am no dummy, but compared to him I am the village idiot. I think it's his high IQ that makes it hard for him to deal with things like death. He just can't make that mind of his slow down long enough to allow him to sleep. That led to him taking more and more pills. He just wanted some peace. Unfortunately, he went about it in the wrong way. He thinks we are all judging him and blaming him, but we aren't. At least, I'm not and my parents aren't (I haven't talked to anyone else, but I feel certain they aren't judging him either). We just all want him to get better.

The first thing that struck me as I drove into the mental health complex was how BIG it is. I drove past building after building after building. Chad told me there were 100 people on the floor he was on. Each building is several floors tall. That's thousands of people that must be there...all of them hurting and crying out for help. It is truly heartbreaking.

I think it's a faction of the world that is ignored and abandoned for the most part. When someone is in the hospital with a broken leg or heart surgery we go by and visit, send flowers, and make phone calls to try to cheer them up. When someone goes to a mental hospital what do we do? I am guessing pretty much nothing. I was the only visitor there for over a hundred patients. That's kinda sad. People who are hurting emotionally/mentally really need us even more than someone who has a physical health problem.

I know this sounds preachy (and I am preaching to myself here), but love is a powerful, powerful thing. I would dare to say that knowing you are loved and supported will help people suffering emotionally more than anything else. I say I was preaching to myself because I didn't really want to go to visit Chad the first time I went (I've been three times now). I mean, I wanted to see him, but I was apprehensive about going to a mental hospital. The media has portrayed it as a scary place where people are mistreated, but it wasn't like that at all. All the employees I met were very nice and Chad says they've treated him very well.

I even met a few other patients. There was this one girl named Ashley that kept shuffling closer and closer to me all the while saying in a sing songy little voice, "Oh you're so pretty. You're soooo pretty. Ohhh pretty, pretty, pretty."

Clearly she doesn't belong in a mental institution. In fact she seemed very perceptive to me. : )

Of course the fact that she was trying to touch my face while she told me how pretty I am was a little but unsettling, but it was really good for my ego.

I am thinking about visiting her every week.

Okay, all joking aside, I hope you'll join me in praying not only for my little brother, but for all the people suffering from depression, anxiety and mental illness. I can't begin to imagine how much they are suffering and know that many of them feel like that must do their suffering silently to avoid being judged.

My new goal? To be less judging and more loving.

My trashcan hates me

2008-03-14T11:52:00.000-07:00

It's true. The trashcan in my classroom hates me. No matter what I am throwing away it won't go in. The water bottles bounce in and back out. Wads of papers bounce off the rim. Diet Coke cans accidentally hit students in the head.

Oh I kid. When I hit students in the head it is never an accident.

I KID, I KID!

Now I know you are thinking that it is most likely my terrible aim and lack of athletic ability that keeps my shots from falling in, but it's more than that I tell you...it is!

Today I threw a lid at the trash and it bounced out. One of the students said, "I don't know why you keep throwing stuff at that can. You never make it." I was almost offended when I realized he was right. So we did an experiment and I threw bottles, paper, almonds...and several other things to try and break my trashcan hex.

That's when it happened. I threw an almond at the trash can and it landed perfect balanced on the RIM of the can. It didn't fall in and it didn't fall off. It just rested there, as if it belonged. I couldn't believe my eyes. I mean I can get THAT close and it won't fall in?

That's just wrong.

So I took pictures to show you just how much my trashcan hates me.

Here is a bird's eye view of my trashcan (including my lunch...see the banana down there? It was yummy). If you look closely you will see the almond resting on the edge. I didn't put it there! I just threw the almond and that's where it landed.

And here is a close-up of my almond.

See??? The can hates me. It refuses to catch anything I throw at it! It's a curse. Or a trash conspiracy.

Come to think of it I think my softball glove was cursed too.

Question...

2008-03-11T08:33:00.001-07:00

Is 'foiled again' really a saying? Or did I make that up? I have a quirky habit of mixing up words or just making up my own if I feel like it. I got that habit from my dad.

Quirky is a genetic trait (in case you didn't know).

So I was sitting in class while some students were testing and my last post popped into my brain. Specifically the line where I said, "Dang. Foiled again."

Then I tried to actually figure out what 'foiled again' meant. Which caused me to picture myself all wrapped up in foil. Not that I'd know what that looks like. Well, okay... once after watching Fried Green Tomatoes I did wrap myself up in saran wrap for Dave, but that is totally different. It is also totally too much information isn't it?

But since we are on the subject let me just discourage you from trying that because if your husband happens to be running late, let me tell ya, it's ain't pretty. In fact, it's just plain sweaty. Which as I just mentioned, ain't pretty.

Alrighty then.

Back to the question. Is 'foiled again' actually a saying? When I say it I picture that bad guy Snidely from Dudely Do Right twirling his moustache in an evil manner. Is there a non-evil way to twirl a moustache? I think not.

Okay. I have to get back to work. Now that you all see what I do when the children are in music class you might be afraid for the educational standards of our school. Well, fear not dear readers, for I am the only goober on the staff.

You can breathe easy now (unless you wrap yourself in saran wrap cause then it's almost impossible to take a deep breath).

Now that's what I call devotion

2008-03-10T20:12:00.000-07:00

It seems like every time I turn around lately Brookie is sick. If I had a nickel for each time she's thrown up over the last six weeks, well, I'd be buying another can of Lysol with it (lemon scented) (the BIG can).

The last time she was sick she couldn't even keep Tylenol down. Since she had a pretty high temp she was feeling extra puny. I sat by her and held a cool washcloth to her head while I stroked her hair and talked about anything I could think of to take her mind off being sick.

Things like the time my Aunt Martha was chasing my mom across the backyard (with what sounds like murder on her mind) when they ran upon a fishing line Dadpa had strung across the yard. Mom saw it and went under it. Aunt Martha didn't see it and ran full speed ahead and managed to hook herself right in her nose. That story always brings about much chuckling (from everyone but me because I love my Aunt Martha too much to ever laugh at her pain) (hi Aunt Martha!!) (Muah!).

I also told her about the time Big Mama's daughter actually got to go see Hanna Montana backstage because her mom's blog was so popular that they gave her tickets free tickets. Brookie thought that was the coolest thing ever. As I told her about it her eyes got bigger and bigger and bigger.

And I told her about the time my dad told us that scientists had finally perfected a hand that could operate on it's own, without a brain or even an arm. He talked about all the great things that hands like that would be able to help us do in this world. He then told us that unfortunately the hand was mysteriously missing and that he hoped they found it soon. We were quite enthralled by the story, but soon forgot about it and went back to playing Atari (yes, I'm old. Shut up). Later that night, when it was pitch black outside (we lived way out in the country) we heard something at the window in my brother's room where we all sat still playing Atari (hey, that Pong was addictive!). When we looked out the window we saw a white hand crawling up the screen!!!! Oh my goodness...we were scared half to death! We ran to mom's room and told her that we'd found the missing hand and that it was on the house! Then we asked where dad was...we wanted to tell him. She didn't know. Instead of figuring out that HE was the one outside the window wearing a white glove (and pantyhose on his head) we assumed the hand had killed our dad! Finally, we figured out the truth and Dad laughed so hard it's a wonder he didn't wet his pants.

After telling these and several other stories I took Brookie's temperature again and found that it was still rising (and she was still throwing up). I knew it was time for drastic measures.

A suppository.

Brookie was not at all keen on the plan. When I explained where it went she started shaking her head and she held her butt cheeks together with her hands. I knew this was not going to be easy. We ended up having to hold her down and force it in, only to find that she has the amazing ability to shoot things out of her rear. I'd put it in and she'd shoot it out. Seriously, it was astounding (and infuriating). Finally, I gave up and put her back in bed. The last thing she said to me before falling asleep was, "And don't blog about this!!"

Dang. Foiled again.

The next morning she was feeling better and kept down some toast. While eating breakfast she looked at me and said, "Mom, I've been thinking and if it will help get me Hannah Montana tickets then you can blog about my bobo shooting out medicine."

Hannah, if you're reading this, THAT is a true fan. She not only has up your posters, watches your shows, sings your songs and wears your clothes...she is willing to humiliate herself in front of tens and twelves of my blog readers just to have a shot at seeing you in concert. If that doesn't make her your number one fan, I don't know what does...

Okay, maybe it makes her your number two fan (hee hee, get it...number two???....I crack myself up...oh gosh, I said CRACK...I'm on a roll).

Although I must say that it would take a hook up my nose, a mutant hand on my window AND something bigger than a suppository shoved up my bottom to make me go to one of those concerts.

No offense.

If I had only known...

2008-03-09T08:05:00.000-07:00

Last week after attending a Hawk Nelson concert I jokingly said my next purchase would be earplugs...or at least I thought I was joking. Apparently I wasn't. Cause being a big fan of deafness I decided to go to another concert. Only this time instead of sitting on the eighth row like some school girl pansy (no offense to any of the school girls out there...I think pansies are lovely) I sat on the second row...the second row on the FLOOR...mere inches from speakers almost as tall as I am.

I like to call them the speakers of deaf.

Eh? What's that you say? You think I'm cupid? Well that's a weird thing to say....Ohhh...you think I'm stupid. Sorry, I couldn't hear a word you were typing. You'll have to type louder now that I am deaf and all.

I went to the concert with Lauren and Jill and we knew we were in trouble when we saw that they were selling earplugs. Yes, that's right. They were selling earplugs at a concert.

Earplugs. At a concert. A concert by it's very design is meant to be heard. And they were selling earplugs. Am I the only one that finds that odd??

Anyway, we talked about moving to seats farther back, but how often do you get to be that close to one of your all time favorite bands?? And let me tell you something interpeeps...I do love me some Newsboys. And since I do love them we stayed on the second row, bought our earplugs and braced ourselves for the worst.

Then we didn't wear them. Do you know why we didn't wear them? Cause we are no pansy school girls, that's why. We rocked out with the row of college girls bouncing next to Jill all night. And we screamed. LOUDLY.

Okay. I screamed loudly, but Jill winced a lot so she was joining me in her own special way.

Know what else? We had the best time ever. EVER. It was such a good concert. From the first song of the opening act, Article One, to the last song played by Newsboys. Rush of Fools was there too and they are totally awesome. New Worldson was there as well and they had a really interesting sound and put on a really good show. And know who else was there?

God.

Oh yes interpeeps, you read that right. God came to that concert and I am sure everyone there felt His presence. It's been a long time since I was able to stand in a room with thousands of people all worshiping God together. Strangers worshiping side by side without fear or shame, but with unabashed joy. I almost forgot how good that felt. It's like a crumb fell from the table of Heaven and we all had us a sample and I don't mind telling you that it was finger lickin' good.

So was the music. If you ever want to see an unbelievably good Christian concert I would encourage you to go to a Newsboys concert. I have to say it was the best concert I've ever been to. (Please forgive me Harry Connick, Jr. You know I love you and I will forever itch to throw my panties at you when I see you, but I have to say these boys put on a better concert. Don't hate me).

When they first come out they enter one at a time behind a screens like this...

And it was SO cool. And then these confetti machines shot out confetti way up into the air and strobe lights came on. We were right under the confetti blower thingies and it looked like this...

And they had an awesome backdrop that looked like this (forgive my lousy phone pictures)...

OH! And the coolest thing ever is when the drummer is doing his drum solo and his pedestal starts to rise and THEN...it tilts ALL THE WAY FORWARD and spins and he keeps playing! That was so cool. Here he is when he first starts tilting....

And then after the concert Lauren met some band members from Article One. They are really, really nice and very talented. Plus the lead singer is quite worthy of having panties thrown at him himself (sorry Harry!)...

Now if you'll excuse me, I just heard a commercial for hearing aides. I better go call.

Or did they say cheering maids? Could have been hand grenades...or maybe tinted shades...

Please pass the grace

2008-03-04T15:35:00.001-08:00

On my first day back at work after my sister Shanna died a co-worker told me that the pain I felt would never, ever go away. She said it had been ten years since her father died and she still hurt just as bad today as she did on the day he died. At the time I really thought that was a terrible thing to say. I remember standing in my classroom after our conversation and praying that she was wrong.

She wasn't.

The initial shock is gone. The initial feeling of anger and denial is gone. The initial fog of confusion and loss is gone. The pain however is still there. I don't think it will ever go away. Losing someone close to you changes you...or it has changed me. It's like something deep inside me has shifted and I will never feel 'normal' again. Oh I have learned to go about my day as if nothing is wrong. I have learned to smile when people say things that should make me happy and laugh when they say things that are funny. And I do feel happiness sometimes...it's just that I feel sadness at the same time. Whatever emotion that tries to fill my heart has to fight for room next to the sadness there. My sadness is a stingy thing, it really doesn't want to let any other emotions in.

The sadness brings with it a weight. The weight is right on my heart, a very real feeling of pressure inside my chest that does not ever ease up. It is there when I eat. It is there when I teach. It is there when I watch T.V. or read a book. It's there when I lay down to sleep at night and it's there when I wake each morning. It's just there all the time. It's a heavy thing, this weight. It is so heavy that the burden of carrying it around hour after hour plum tuckers me out. By the end of a long day of teaching and acting like nothing is wrong I am exhausted. I come home and I just want to lay down and let myself cry. Of course I can't. My girls are so sensitive and Dave just wants everything to be normal. They depend on me for so much...for everything really. It is my job to keep things going around here and falling apart just isn't on the schedule.

It seems like there should be something I can do or say to make this better. I wish I could figure out what it is. I don't wish that for myself. I wish it for my mom and dad...for John and Tre...for everyone that feels this terrible sadness that won't let go. Somehow knowing they feel this way too hurts way more than feeling this way myself. I just want everything to go back to the way it was before.

I want Shanna back.

It always comes down to that thought. I want her back. Each time I think that I mentally slap myself and remind myself that I am being selfish. She suffered long enough. She is whole and healthy now. I really am thankful for that.

I am convinced that she isn't sad and missing us. I think that our time on Earth is but a blink in the span of time that is eternity. To her it will seem like mere moments from the time she arrives to the time when we join her and we will all be together again the way a family should be. Unfortunately to me each hour seems like a day...each week like a month...the past month has definately felt like a year...an awful, awful year. All I know to do is to pray for grace.

Grace to make it through each day without breaking down. Grace to be the mother, wife, daughter, aunt, sister and sister-in-law that I need to be. Grace to be the teacher my students need me to be. Grace to live my life serving God and making Him proud to call me His child.

Grace...all I need is a little grace.

My next purchase will be earplugs

2008-03-03T11:34:00.000-08:00

It has recently come to my attention that I am old. Now don't ask me when this happened because I have no idea. I am as shocked as you are! I was just going through life, minding my own business, feeling footloose and fancy free and then WHAM!...out of the clear blue I am old.

I am always the last to know.

I guess I was well on my way to becoming the next Aunt Vi. I don't think anyone ever told that woman that she was old and she went through life acting like a perpetual 21 year old on spring break. For example, there was the time my cousin Tim took her to a Ranger's game and halfway through the game she stands up, pulls her top up and flashes the stadium her bare boobage. She had to be about 90 years old at the time. Tim said her boobs were hanging down to her belly button, but she didn't care. She just gave them a shake, sat back down and calmly said, "I've always wanted to do that."

Luckily, I was saved from becoming the next grandma flasher by stumbling upon a civic center FULL of loud and rowdy teens who were more than happy to point out my ancientness to me. Well I didn't exactly stumble...I drove there on purpose to take Lauren and her friends to see this band:

Yes, you read correctly. I drove a suburban full of teens to see this PUNK BAND in concert ON PURPOSE. Apparently I am not only old, but I am stupid as well.

Once again, I am always the last to know.

The first clue pointing toward the fact that I am old was my reaction to the pierced lips of the band members. Instead of saying, 'Oh my gosh that is so freakin' awesome!' all I could say was, "Ouch. That had to hurt" and then I wondered how they ate corn on the cob.

Clearly I am no party animal (and if I were I'd be like a party tortoise).

Then there is the fact that I was wishing I had some stylish ear muffs to help block out the extreme LOUDNESS before the first song was over. And when the strobe lights came on instead of screaming hysterically with all the girls around me all I wanted to do was go pull the lead singer by the ear and tell him that strobe lights can cause seizures in people in epilepsy and then lecture him on being a responsible entertainer (if there is such a thing).I won't even get started on the smoke and the 'mosh pit' atmosphere created by the teen boys around us.

The craziness, it did abound. I am pretty sure I was the only one there over the age of 18. I am surprised they let me inside the front doors, but they did. In reality we all had a pretty good time. I actually like the punk (christian) band we went to see, it was just the volume that I had a problem with. I think that will be my last rock concert for a while.

But is anyone up for a Ranger's game? There is something I've always wanted to do...

How can you not love this mutt?

2008-02-27T10:51:00.000-08:00

Despite the burps and the farts and the snoring we all love our Boston Terrier (and let me tell you the dog does fart...A LOT). My Uncle James gave her to us before he died. He used to call her 'my damn dog'...but "Madame Dog' is a little nicer for the girls to say so that's what we stick with (most of the time). At times it seems like a 70 year old man is living with us because of all the gas and snores and hair falling out, but we still adore her.

Who wouldn't love a face like this?

Meme about my man

2008-02-26T19:34:00.000-08:00

What is his name? David
How long have you been married? 16 years
How long did you date? 2 years
How old is he? 40
How old are you? 34
Who eats more sweets? He does (well I eat more once a month when I am scarfin' the chocolate)
Who is taller? He is 8 inches taller than I am.
Who can sing better? Oh my goodness he does (you can't even call what I do singing).
Who is smarter? Ummm...I'd have to say he is.
Who does the laundry? He helps me do it on Sundays.
Who does the dishes? Always me.
His guilty pleasure? Dave never feels guilty about anything.
Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? That would be me.
Who cooks dinner? Again always me (in sixteen years he hasn't cooked once).
Who is more stubborn? He is.
Who kissed who first? He kissed me first (I was looking up and babbling about the stars and he said, 'You talk too much' and then he kissed me).
Who asked who out first? It was a blind date (my very first date) (thank you Uncle James!!).
Who proposed? He did.
Who has more siblings? I do (I have a brother and Shanna and he has a sister).
Who wears the pants? Oh definitely him (and I wouldn't have it any other way).
What is your favorite thing about him? I'd tell you, but I swore off dirty posts after the Pablo fiasco.

I'm the Hugh Hefner of Petsmart

2008-02-22T14:16:00.000-08:00

Oh my goodness gracious interpeeps! I owe you an apology. It seems I posted porn on my blog by mistake. And not just any porn, it was GUINEA PIG PORN! Oh I am blushing to my toenails as I type. I have done a lot of things by mistake...died my hair red...walked onto the football field during practice with my skirt tucked into my panties....wore pajamas to the rehearsal dinner for my wedding (hush! I thought they were a cute little outfit)...but this...this takes the cake.

You see I was just trying to post a cute picture of my dad's fat guinea pig but I failed to pay close attention to what I was posting. Then I received a comment from Angie over at John Deere Mom that said:

"All I see when I look at that picture is Pablo's...you know....can't get past it! :)"

And I was like what in the heck is she talking about? So I looked and ta da there it was for all the world to see...Pablo's little piggie...just hanging out there plain as day. He is even laying back with his legs spread like a professional porn star.

So I am sorry dear world wide web for exposing you to my dirty picture and I am sorry Pablo for turning you into eye candy and not giving you the respect you deserve. I redid your picture to make it up to you.

Meet Pablo

2008-02-20T20:15:00.000-08:00

Is he not pitiful? My parents bought this guinea pig for my girls. They had begged and begged and begged and begged and then begged some more for a guinea pig. Their dad said no and no and no and no and then he said no some more. My parents thought they'd be clever and buy one for them themselves (they want the girls to have everything they could possibly want or need) (these are NOT the same people that raised me) because it would be a gift and nobody can say no to a gift. So they take the girls out one day and buy Pablo. Then they bring him home and say, "Surprise! We bought you a new pet." And Dave said, "Congratulations! You now own a guinea pig." They laughed because they didn't think he was serious.

Pablo has been living with them for a year now.

And live he does...like a king! Just look at how fat he is. My daddy spoils this rodent rotten (again I say these are not the people that raised me). I kid you not. He feeds him fresh veggies (a wide variety) twice a day. When Pablo's bowl gets empty he tumps it over. Then he tumps over everything else in his cage. And he makes this insistant little guinea pig sound that is kinda cute 'til you realize that he is mad and is probably saying something like, 'remember that time I peed on your pants? That wasn't an accident. And that was only the beginning. Now FEED ME.'

Okay. Now you've met Pablo. There was no real rhyme or reason behind this post. I just wanted to share the picture with you because I think it's hilarious. Hope it made you smile!

Bummer

2008-02-20T12:25:00.000-08:00

I have to do something kinda hard. I have been putting it off and I really can't put it off any longer. You see I was planning to donate a kidney to someone this summer. Her name is Kelly Bach and she lives in Arizona. I don't know her at all, but I read about her over at Boo Mama and Big Mama and was touched by her story. She is a mother of two who desperately needs a kidney. My blood type is O+ (universal blood type) so I knew I was a possible match. I prayed about it for a few days, talked to my family about it and then called the donor center. I talked to the nicest lady (Julie-the live donor coordinator) and we did all the preliminary stuff to get the process started. I asked her to not notify Kelly until we knew if I was a match. I didn't want her to be disappointed if things didn't work out. Then she called my doctor (I guess...she said she was going to) and sent out a kit so that I could send back the neccessary info and blood to see if Kelly and I were a match. A few days went by and I anxiously checked the mail for my kit and prayed that I would be able to help.

Then my baby sister passed away. Obviously that complicated things. I honest to goodness wasn't worried about the risk before she died. Actually I'm still not that worried. It's my mom I am worried about. She was okay with me doing this before, but I know that now it would be so scary for her to see one of her remaining two children doing something that could risk their lives. Especially if it was me because she loves me more than she loves my brother Chad (I'm just kidding Chaddy!).

So to make a long story short I told my mother I wouldn't do it. I felt like that was the right decision when I told her that and I still feel like it is the right decision. I can't put my mom through that right now. It would be way too hard. I am praying really hard that Kelly finds another donor. Really the chances of me being a match were slim, but I really did want to help if I could. Now I am very afraid she won't find a kidney in time and her children and husband will be feeling the pain my family is feeling now.

I guess all I can do is suck it up and make the "I am a weenie and I am backing out call", pray that Kelly finds a donor and ask you all to pray about it too.

Miss Grace

2008-02-18T17:15:00.000-08:00

I recently ran across some old pictures that Lauren took. There were a few in there that really made me smile. Apparently Brookie was having trouble mastering the art of roller skating and being the supportive older sister that she is, Lauren decided to photograph her mishaps instead of trying to prevent them. I'm not sure where I was, I think at the hospital with my sister for the weekend. Anyway, I love these pictures...especially the last one. It's obvious the child takes after her mother. She is the epitamy of elegance and grace.

Play that funky music Gabriel

2008-02-13T05:00:00.000-08:00

'Dancing with the Angels' by Monk and Neagle was one of the songs we chose for my little sister's funeral. I love the song (and the group). Last night I was lying in bed wide awake (apparently sadness robs one of the ability to sleep) and I tried to imagine Shanna dancing. Since she had a bone disease and her hip was fused at a young age, dancing was not something I ever really got to enjoy watching Shanna do. I tried and tried to wrap my mind around the image. I just couldn't see it.

Suddenly a picture popped into my head. In it she was surrounded by a crowd of angels, smiling for all she was worth and saying...

You put your right wing in, you put your right wing out, you put your right wing in and you shake it all about. You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around...that's what it's all about!!

She can do the hokey pokey now (and any other moves she cares to bust out with) and is getting to spend time with her heavenly Father.

And that folks is what it really is all about.

You go girl.

Sorry

2008-02-08T13:26:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to write a quick apology for my sudden disappearing act. My baby sister died last week and I just can't bring myself to write a real post. She loved my blog and called and talked to me about most of my posts. The thought of writing something about my life and not having her read it and talk to me about it is just too sad to face right now. I am not abandoning my blog, I'm just taking a short break. Until then, please keep my parents, my brother, her husband and her son in your prayers. We all miss her so very, very much.

Sisterly Love

2008-01-28T18:26:00.000-08:00

Hello interpeeps! Did you miss me? I missed you. I've been in bed for a few days feeling so bad that I didn't even feel like checking in with my blog buddies. You know it must have been BAD if it kept me away from here, cause I love you people like a fat kid loves cake (and that's sayin' a lot).

I finally pulled my miserable self out of bed earlier today and walked through the house. That was a big mistake. I promptly screamed and ran back to bed and hid under the covers. You should have seen the place! Cave yourself up in your room for a few days and a renegade band of outlaw tornadoes bust in and destroy the place. Either that or my kids made the mess. The investigation is still underway.

While I was helping the CSI team look for evidence I came across a bunch of wadded up paper towels in both of the girl's rooms. Upon closer inspection I discovered that the paper towels contained messages. Apparently the girls were throwing notes back and forth to each other across the hall. I thought I'd share a few of the notes. Get your tissue ready and behold my daughters' idea of sisterly love.

From Brookie (age 7) to Lauren (age 13)

Love you some. You can get all on my nerves, but still I love you. but I think of you in my head sometimes and it is not good.

Love you,

Brooke

From Lauren to Brookie

Well me too, but sometimes I just want to slap you in your face, but I don't because I love you.

Love you!

Lauren

Makes a mama proud.

May I have a redo?

2008-01-26T08:38:00.000-08:00

Lauren had to be at school at 7:50 this morning to catch the bus for a basketball tournament. I got up. I woke her up. She got ready. I got ready (by getting ready I mean putting a jacket over my pjs). I went to get my keys. My keys weren't there. I freaked.

I lost my keys!

I never lose my keys. I have lost my shopping list, my mind and even my boobs ability to defy gravity, but not my keys. I was frantic. I didn't want to her miss the bus and get in trouble. I dumped the contents of my purse out all over the table, looked all around the house and finally found them in the car.

We rushed to the school just in time to see the bus driving by a block away. We sat there a moment and tried to decide what to do. I was worried that she would get in trouble if she didn't go to the basketball tournament (she doesn't play, she's just a manager), but I still feared a punishment if she didn't honor a commitment. She was worried about her co-manager having to go to the tournament alone. So we decided she should go. There was a tiny problem though. The tournament was over an hour away and the bus was gone. There was only one thing we could do.

We chased the bus.

We finally caught up with them several miles down the highway (after driving way too fast) and Lauren leaned out the window and waved them down as we drove up beside them.

It was like one of those mommy nightmares...no make-up...in pajamas...hair doing a classy tumbleweed impersonation and letting my child out on the side of the highway while thirty teens looked on.

She had to be so proud. Now if you'll excuse me I need to buy her something cool enough that it will make up for humiliating her.

Do they sell ponies on ebay?

Moo-tivational Teaching

2008-01-24T17:34:00.000-08:00

"Hey mom, I found a gold penny under my bed! Isn't this Sacagewea on the front?"

I turned away from the hated dishwater whose goal in life is to wreak havoc on my hands and looked at my seven year old, the youngest contributor to the never ending pile of dishes that find their way to my sink on a daily basis. She was holding a gold dollar.

"Sachaja-who-ha?" I asked, earning an immediate frown of disgust.

"Sacagewea...you know...Luis and Clark..." The 'duh' was unspoken, but so very evident in her tone.

"Oh yeah. Right. Sacagewea," I said, vaguely remembering something about her hooking up with Robin Williams in 'Night at the Museum'. I looked at the coin and pretended to study it carefully. It was an Indian alright and that was about all I knew.

"I think it might be sugar, but I'm not 100% positive," I said trying to sound confident ( I was more like .000003% sure).

"Then let's look it up," she said. So we did.

I am madly in love with google. If Dave ever tires of my redneck ways and leaves me for some sophisticated woman with a matching set of dishes I am running away with google and we are going to make our own gaggle of googlets.

I am so weird (like you needed that spelled out for you).

Anyway, she was right. See?

She is officially smarter than me. She has a second grade education and she is smarter than I am. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

While we googled facts and learned a few new things together I enjoyed observing her thirst for knowledge. I am so happy that she has an internal motivation to learn. That is becoming increasingly rare. It seems the days when knowledge in and of itself was all the reward a child needed for motivation to learn are slipping away without anyone noticing that they are making an exit. That seriously worries me.

I have often thought to myself that motivating children to learn is the biggest part of my job. I have done so many things to motivate them. I have had parties and dances and given fun rewards. I have dressed up...oh my have I dressed up...for one reason or another through my eleven years as a teacher. I've been Sandy (from Grease) and sang and preformed on stage. I've been a nun (like in Sister Act), again preforming for the children at our school. I've been Baby Spice (don't ask). I've been a monster from under the bed....a mouse...a lion and a clown (the non scary version.).

I've even been a cow...a pregnant cow at that. And not just any cow. I was a cool cow from Kalamazoo. No really I was. Look...

Clearly I have no shame.

The point is that I've done all that and more to motivate students, but really there was something behind all the crazy things I did that motivated them more than anything else.

Love.

I've loved every single one of my students and made sure they knew that I loved them. It is a great motivator and is the best secret I know to being a successful teacher. So while I worry about their lack of internal motivation all I know to do is to keep on loving them, keep on teaching them and keep on praying for them.

God will take care of the rest.

(He really rocks at this love thing too.)

You Might Be a Redneck If...

2008-01-23T17:38:00.000-08:00

1. A midweek dinner includes biscuits, chicken fried steak, corn, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese AND gravy.

2. There is food being served in a pan on the table.

3. There are two foods being served in pans on the table.

4. Your plates do not match.

5. Your daughter is fixin' her plate before anyone else gets to the table.

6. You say fixin' on your redneck list.

7. Your napkins are paper.

8. Your napkins (that are paper) are thrown haphazardly on the plates (that don't match) with a fork and your oldest child calls this setting the table.

9. Someone's water is still in the bottle instead of in a glass.

10. Probably because you don't have enough matching glasses to set the table.

11. The butter is in a tub.

12. There is camo gear thrown over a chair during the entire meal.

13. You have no qualms about posting a picture displaying your redneckness to the world (a.k.a. the 17 people that read your blog).

14. I didn't want to end on thirteen.

15. You are too superstitious to end your redneck list on thirteen.

Batting a thousand

2008-01-21T19:34:00.000-08:00

Is this day over yet? Please say yes. Lie to me. It's okay. It's one of those permissible lies of kindness, like when your dad lied to your mom when she asked if her pants made her butt look big and he looked her straight in the eye and said no.

Oh I kid. Don't lie. It isn't nice and I really don't need your tainted soul added to my list of transgressions today. I've been doing enough damage all by myself.

When Lauren woke up this morning she was SUCH a grump-a-saurus. Seriously, it was awful. She looked downright mean and the way she was acting caught me off guard. She is really such a pleasant child who rarely acts in a negative manner. And this was definitely negative. In fact after no more than ten minutes of it I told her she must have some major PMS going on and then I asked her dad if it was possible to beat the PMS outta someone. She knew I'd never beat her, but she also knew I was not going to let her act like that. I gave her a very stern lecture (which really didn't improve her mood any...duh) and told her to suck it up.

It wasn't until much, much later....like seven hours later...that she reminds me that she is out of one of her meds. She had told me three days before she needed a refill and I was having such an awful day that it went right out of my head. As soon as she told me she still needed it I groaned as I realized what had been going on. This drug can't be missed and if it is the effects of it will become rapidly apparent in horrible mood swings.

Crapola-on-a-stick.

It was MY fault. Her awful mood was all my fault and I was the one that needed to be beat. By the time we figured out what was amiss it was too late to get a refill so she has to go all day tomorrow without it too. I wonder if I should warn her teachers??

While I was on the PMS accusatory train I told Dave he had PMS too. He ignored me and kept grouching about whatever it was he was grounching about. I warned him that he better get happy in his pants or I'd do something about it.

He never listens.

I had to panse him (is that what they call it when you run up behind someone and pull their pants down to their ankles??). He just laughed and then tickled me til I peed my pants a little (gosh I hate that).

That only left Brookie unharmed, but of course I managed to fix that. When I was washing her hair she said, "Ouch, your nails are scratching my scallop." Well I couldn't help it. I giggled. Then I told her the word was scalp.

She burst into tears and told me to stop making fun of her.

I swear I didn't mean to hurt her feelings. I love it when she mixes words up. It is adorable and reminds me of my dad (and myself). I guess I was just full of mother grace and charm today.

Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go pull the covers over my head and wait for a new day and a another fresh start.

Washing Wishes (oh the shame)

2008-01-21T09:43:00.000-08:00

Due to popular demand I am posting the children's book I tried to write.

Okay, a whoppin' two people asked to read it, but that's more demand that I've ever had before so I'm taking it! But first I thought I'd post some reviews...

Your book is really good Christy. I loved every word. I am forcing all my innocent bystanders of friends to read it.

- My Mom

This book is better than 99% of the children's books I've read. If you don't have it published I am paying to publish it myself.

- One of my best friends Donna

So as you can see from totally unbiased opinions it is really, really good. Now for the review of the publishers I sent my book to:

We are not accepting unsolicited transcripts at this time (translation-you stink).

-Numerous Publishing Houses

Now for the book (I am incredibly embarrassed right now for some reason...oh yeah, I remember why...it's because I STINK).

Washing Wishes

Beyond the rainbows and above the clouds, in the magical part of heaven where wishing stars are found, lived Barnaby, the tiniest star in the heavens. So small was he that even though he tried with all his might, he was not able to grant wishes. Oh how sad this made him! More than anything he wanted to help make dreams come true.

He hoped and prayed that one night when he woke after a good day’s sleep he would find that he had grown big enough and strong enough to have the wish granting power he longed for.

Often he would visit Gramstar, the wisest wishing star he knew, and talk to her about his problem. As they talked, they would sit together and watch the wishes float up from the world below and try to guess what was inside each wish. The wishes rose up like bubbles and reminded Barnaby of crystal balls that shined and glowed with hope as they searched for a wishing star to bring them to life.

“I think this one is for a bike,” said Barnaby one night as he plucked a wish from the sky beside them. He shook the wish gently and looked inside and saw a black and white puppy wagging its tail. “No, it’s for a puppy,” he said with a smile as he let the wish go. He watched as it floated to another wishing star and clapped merrily when the ball popped into a burst of sparkles and light because he knew that meant the wish had been granted.

When the next wish came by he pulled it from the sky and said with a teasing grin, “I think this one is for an elephant on ice skates.” He was still laughing when he looked inside, but he could see nothing but a foggy mist. He shook the wish slightly, but still nothing appeared. His smile faded away as he looked at Gramstar and said, “I think this one is broken.” She took it from him and peered deep inside and then sadly she said, “No Barnaby, it’s not broken, it’s dirty.”

“How does a wish get dirty Gramstar?” Barnaby asked in confusion. He had never heard of a dirty wish.

“When a wish is made from a heart filled with doubt, that doubt covers the wish’s hope in darkness. These are dirty wishes and they cannot be granted,” Gramstar said, sounding as sad as Barnaby felt.

Barnaby’s heart was heavy as he asked, “What happens to the dirty wishes?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer. What could be sadder than a wish not granted? “The dirty wishes are eventually weighed down by the doubt that fills them and they sink down to forever rest on the top of the clouds,” Gramstar replied.

Later that night as the sun began to rise and it was time for bed, Barnaby couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in the sky as he thought about how many wishes must be trapped on the clouds wanting to be granted. He decided to go see for himself.

It was a long journey down to the cloud tops and Barnaby was very tired by the time he arrived. But he soon forgot all about his weariness when he saw all the dirty wishes before him. As far as the eye could see were clouds with wishes resting on them. Barnaby decided right then and there that something must be done to help them. His body might be small, but his heart was large and he was determined to come up with a plan to help the dirty wishes.

If only there was some way to magically wash the wishes, Barnaby thought to himself. Then they could float back up to the heavens and be granted. Suddenly Barnaby had an idea. Everyone knew that there was magic in the moonlight. What if he could wash the wishes in the moon’s magic beams? It might not work, but he was sure going to try!

A few night’s later when there was a full moon, Barnaby made the long trek to the cloud tops once again. This time he brought along a big bag that Gramstar had sewed for him. He filled it carefully with some of the dark and gloomy wishes and followed the moon’s beams to where they touched the ocean below. Once there he pulled out a wish and carefully dipped it into the wet moonbeams and then he gently scrubbed it. His eyes widened in surprised when he saw a pretty doll appear inside the wish and then he smiled because he knew his plan was working. He let the wish go and it floated toward the stars to fulfill its destiny.

Barnaby was so proud of his accomplishment! Even though he wasn’t big enough to grant wishes, he was still making a difference by helping wishes come true. He had never been happier than he was that night as he spent hour after hour washing wishes.

While he was washing his seventh bag of wishes he heard a splash behind him. When he turned to see what had made the noise he saw a small orange and white creature behind him. “What are you?” asked Barnaby in a nervous voice. “I’m a clown fish. My name is Gobbo,” replied the creature. “What are you?” the little fish asked. “I am a wishing star. My name is Barnaby,” Barnaby answered with surprise, he thought everyone knew what a wishing star was. “A wishing star, what’s that?” asked the tiny fish as he swam a little closer to Barnaby. “A wishing star is a star that lives in the heavens and grants wishes that are made on the earth below. Haven’t you ever wished on a star before?” He asked his new friend. “We can’t see the stars from deep in the ocean,” said Gobbo.

Gobbo stayed to help wash the wishes all through the night. They spent many happy hours talking. Barnaby told Gobbo of his dream to be able to grant wishes like all the other stars. Gobbo told Barnaby of his wish to be a real clown that could live among the land dwellers and make boys and girls laugh. As the night passed by they became fast friends. Barnaby was sad to head back to the heavens for he knew he would miss his new friend. Gobbo promised to return during the next full moon to help wash wishes again.

The months passed by and slowly the cloud tops were emptied of their doubt filled wishes as Barnaby and Gobbo washed each and every one. They had become the best of friends while they worked together side by side and Barnaby could see how very much Gobbo wanted to be a real clown. He wished there was some way he could help him.

One day Barnaby was summoned to appear before King North, the king of all the wishing stars. Barnaby had never been to visit the King before and he was very nervous. He couldn’t imagine what the King wanted with him, the tiniest star in the heavens. He wondered if the King had found out he was sneaking down to the ocean each month.

He hoped he wouldn’t be punished. Barnaby had to muster up all the courage inside his little star body to go and see the King.

“Barnaby,” boomed the King in a deep voice, “it has come to my attention that you have been traveling to the ocean during the full moon each month to wash the dirty wishes.”
Oh no, thought Barnaby, here it comes. I am in big trouble now. “Is this true?” asked King North? “Y-y-y-ess, King North,” stammered Barnaby. The next thing the King said startled Barnaby and filled his heart with joy. “I am very proud of you Barnaby. It is a very caring and selfless act you have been doing. I would like to reward your kind act with a wish. You may have anything your heart desires.”

Barnaby could not believe what he was hearing. He could use the wish to finally become the wishing star he’d always dreamed of being. He was so excited, but just before he told the King of his wish, he remembered Gobbo and his wish to become a real clown. Barnaby’s heart sank. If he wished to have the powers of a wishing star, then he could not wish for Gobbo to become a clown. He was torn between his own wish and his desire to grant Gobbo’s wish. Then Barnaby had an idea. “King North,” he said, “I wish to become a wishing starfish that lives in the ocean and grants the wishes of all the sea creatures that live there.”

And so it was.

Barnaby soon learned that there was a catfish who wanted to be a real cat and a tiger shark who wanted to be a real tiger. There was an angel fish who wanted to be a real angel and a sea horse that wanted to run in the Kentucky Derby. But before Barnaby granted any of their wishes there was one thing he had to do…

He turned Gobbo into a real clown.

Cuteness and Yumminess

2008-01-20T18:22:00.000-08:00

My GT students are making their own sock puppets and writing puppet shows for the Pre-K class. They are doing a great job and we are having so much fun. I thought I'd show you a picture of the puppets that the Kindergarten through Second grade group made.

I think they turned out really cute!!

And while I am here I am going to post a recipe that Inspired asked for. It's one of my mom's specialites. It is the easiest recipe EVER and it is super yummy for your tummy. Enjoy!

Sopapilla Cheesecake Recipe

2 cans of crescent rolls
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 (8 oz.) packages cream cheese, softened
1 stick butter

Preheat oven to 350F. Press 1 can of crescent rolls into bottom of 9 X 13 inch pan. Mix cream cheese, 1 cup sugar and vanilla until creamy. Spread over rolls in pan. Cover with other can of rolls. Melt butter and stir in rest of sugar and cinnamon. Pour over top. Bake for 30 minutes. Can be served warm or room temperature.

Randomness Galore

2008-01-19T09:26:00.000-08:00

Mrs. 4444 from over at Half-Passed Kissin' Time has tagged for a meme! I am still not sure what the word 'meme' actually means, but I get the general idea behind it so I shall give it my best shot.

THE "RULES"

Link to the person who tagged you.

Post the rules on your blog.

Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.

Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.

Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

Here are my six non-important things/habits/quirks:

1. I am a flossaholic. I floss way, way too often. I carry floss with me at all times and it is hard for me to wait until I am out of a restaurant before I start flossing (sometimes I don't wait).

2. I am toebidextrius. I use my toes like extra sets of hands. I can can cook, clean and pick my nose with my toes. Oh I kid. But I really can pick stuff up with them very well.

3. I used to be really, really afraid of clowns. Okay, I still am afraid of clowns, but not as bad as I used to be.

4. I sat in the bathroom at lunch for almost an entire school year in high school because I feared that when I went inside the cafeteria to sit at a table everyone would get up and leave.

(In defense of my weirdness I was incredibly shy and had zero self confidence. What's odd about this is that I wasn't unattractive or unliked. In fact I had lots of honors to make me feel better about myself such as class favorite, most beautiful, most friendly, valentine sweetheart, homecoming queen court...blah blah, but for some reason that was never enough to make me feel good about myself. To this day I don't know why I was like that. For a very long time after we married Dave would not allow me to put myself down and that helped, but what helped most of all was teaching. The unconditional love of hundreds of children healed my defective self esteem like nothing else ever could. )

5. I can make balloon animals.

6. I wrote a children's book called 'Washing Wishes.' Don't be impressed. It wasn't good enough to be published, but I did write it!

I'm not going to tag anyone right now because I think most of my blogging friends just completed a meme of their own. I'll just leave an open invitation for anyone that wants to play along. Have fun! (but not freaky clown fun cause that would just be creepy)

Poopsie

2008-01-18T19:36:00.000-08:00

I promised to tell the story of how my father came to be known as 'Poopsie'...the Poopster...the Grand Poopah...okay, okay we just call him Poopsie, and really I think that is enough. Don't you?

When I was pregnant with Lauren my mom picked out the names Mumsie and Poopsie for the grandnames. She thought the names were adorable. Dave thought they were ridiculous...especially the Poopsie. He protested immediately. My mom didn't really care what he thought (she rarely does) and she stuck to her guns.

So did Dave.

As the months of my pregnancy flew by (as fast as bleeding, pre-eclempsia and bed rest can fly by) it became clear that neither of them were going to agree on a grandname for my dad. Dave was determined that he be called Papaw and mom was sticking with Poopsie. Eventually they decided that whichever name she said first was going to be the name we used.

When Lauren was born they each used the names they had chosen. They used them a lot...a whole bunch of A LOT. The day finally came that she finally called my dad by a name.

Poopsie.

But Dave had the last laugh. As it turns out young children can't say Poopsie very well. Lauren couldn't. Brooklyn couldn't. Tre couldn't. Instead what they said was Poosie.

I'll just let that sink in for a minute.

Everybody on the same page now? That's right. I said Poosie as in poooseee. It really wasn't as fun or cute as it might sound. It was actually awkward and blush inspiring. Especially for my mom because she is the one that insisted on the name. I could tell countless stories about the embarrassment this name caused or about the fun my uncle had telling the kids to say Daddy loves Poopsie (yeah, I come from some up-town folk), but I will limit it to one story.

When Lauren was about 18 months old my dad was taking up offering at church and we were all sitting towards the back of the sanctuary. Lauren really wanted to go with my dad, but of course she couldn't. Her little lip quivered for a bit...waiting just long enough for him to get to the very front of the church and then she stood on the pew and said, 'Pooooossssiiiieeee....I want my Poooossssiiieeee'. Well everyone and I do mean everyone sorta gasped together and turned to look at her/us. Then my mom stands up and announces very loudly, "She is saying Poopsie everybody...she is saying POOPSIE." I wanted to crawl under my seat and hide until everyone left.

Good times. Good times.

And now you know how my Dad ended up named not only after a bodily function, but at times after a body part as well.

Blogfessional

2008-01-17T17:49:00.001-08:00

I have an addiction and I humbly ask that you not judge me too harshly when you hear what it is. Okay. Here it goes. I'm just going to blurt it out real quick like...

I love American Idol.

LOVE IT.

There. I said it. Please don't forsake me in this season of tv viewing weakness.

It was because of this undying love that I found myself in a bit of a dilema when I realized that the second night of American Idol was airing at the same time as our youth meeting at church (which I volunteer to help with). I am ashamed to say that I was actually momentarily torn about what to do. It didn't help that Lauren was begging me to let her stay home and watch.

You'll be glad to know that I did make the right decision and told Lauren that we had to go to church. That brought forth much crying and gnashing of teeth.

Lauren wasn't all that thrilled either.

But I told her that the Bible clearly says that thou shall have no other idols before God. Hello. The show is called American IDOL. My choice was made for me thousands of years ago and my hands were tied.

So we went to church and are oh so proud that we persevered through this trying and tempting time in our lives. And we shall be rewarded in the great by and by.

Personally I am asking God to make sure Taylor Hicks isn't allowed to preform in heaven, but hey, we all have our own ideas about the rewards of heaven.

Next we'll work on the cabbage patch

2008-01-16T14:36:00.000-08:00

I was teaching an ESL group today (that's English as a Second Language for the acronym impaired readers among us) when it came to my attention that out of the three boys in the group exactly zero percent of them knew what break dancing was. Of course I found that entirely unacceptable.

You may be asking yourself why we were talking about break dancing in class, but never you mind, I do not have the time to go into the complicated intricacies of the art of teaching here today.

Ahem.

Anyway, after I got over my appalledness at their woefully lacking education I tried to explain break dancing to my little Spanish speaking friends. Have you ever tried to explain breaking dancing to someone? It's really not as easy as it sounds. Eventually I had to get up and actually demonstrate some classic break dancing moves to them.

Have you ever tried to demonstrate break dancing? That's not as easy as it sounds either.

Let's just say it didn't go well. I fear they did not understand what walking like a retarded astronaut had to do with American dancing, though it was hard to tell by all the blank stares and blinking they directed my way. Apparently they don't appreciate the finer points of classic dance moves.

Right.

They struggled a bit with synonyms and antonyms as well at first. I didn't think they would ever understand the difference of the two. We had tried numerous examples of synonyms when I got to the word hot. Right before all my hair fell out in one frustrated pile their teacher came in to pick them up early. I told them to leave their dry erase boards on the table and I'd put their things away so their teacher didn't have to wait.

I picked up the first dry erase board. It said warm. Very good. I erased it and put it away.

I picked up the second board. It said worm (don't laugh. That actually makes sense. Seriously, sound it out. Phonetically it does say warm). Again, very good. They both understood that warm and hot were alike. Yay!

I picked up the third board. It said Mrs. S (insert my last name). Now this kid, he is obviously BRILLIANT. He totally understood synonyms. I immediately game him an A for the entire school year and referred him to the Gifted and Talented program. What else could I do??

Oh I kid. What kind of teacher do you think I am?

I only gave him an A for the semester.

Unfortunately my lovely teacher buzz was killed when my next group of children refused to believe that toodleooski was Russian for good-bye. What on earth happened to my credibility??

Perhaps they heard about the break dancing.

Happy Birthday Dad

2008-01-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

I used to believe that I was born with twelve toes. My dad convinced me that a shark bit off my two extra toes and boy was I grateful to that shark! I am not even sure at what point I figured out the truth (I am seriously gullible).

The same ornery man convinced my brother, sister and me that a cocklebur was a porcupine egg. Oh how we tried to hatch that little bur. We put it in the windowsill to make sure it stayed extra warm and checked on it several times a day. We really wanted that baby porcupine!! One day we came in off the bus after school and all three of us ran to check on our porcupine egg and it was gone. Gasp! Immediately we all screamed (I'm the oldest, blame me) and jumped on the couch. I guess after a little thought we decided a porcupine on the loose was a bad idea. We stayed on that couch for hours until my parents got home. When they finally arrived mom confessed that she'd thrown it away because she was tired of having it in her window and that it was not really a porcupine egg. Dad didn't say much. He was too busy laughing.

My sixteenth birthday came and went without a driving test taking place. I had a car. I was just a chicken. I just knew as soon as I got my licsense I'd run over some innocent kitten. or puppy. or person. An entire year went by without me taking my driving test. An entire year! I don't know what to say about that. I was just a terribly shy and really pretty insecure girl. Well I'll never forget the day my dad showed up without warning and checked me out of school. I assumed at first my sister was hurt so I rushed to the office when they called for me (those kind of calls were pretty frequent and my biggest fear in life). But it wasn't my sister this time, it was my driving test. Both relief and dread flooded me in pretty near equal doses. I really didn't want to take my driving test. But I did take it and I passed and when I was fixin' to get my very first license picture taken my dad told me I had to take my ponytail down. He said they didn't allow them in the pictures. This was in 1990. I had tons of hairspray in my hair. I was horrified. My hair stayed up in some funky white girl impersonation of Don King . It was about six months later that my best friend took her driving test with HER PONYTAIL IN that I realized I'd been fooled and fooled good.

I could tell endless stories about my dad's mischievous side, but I could also tell endless stories about what an awesome, loving man he is and how he is always there for his family. He is the BEST.

Happy birthday Poopsie!!! We love you.

She should be selling used cars

2008-01-14T13:03:00.000-08:00

I had to wake up bright and early this morning on account of the horrible thing that we people in the teaching business call morning duty. I find it very fitting that the word duty sounds like doodie, because, well, morning duty stinks a lot like real doodie.

Since I had to be at work early for stink duty I was trying to hurry the girls along. That was rather difficult to do with Brookie bent over the toilet heaving. She had been sick since last Friday, but she seemed better on Sunday. I was worried and thought I should stay home with her, but Dave said that it was just sinus drainage and that she needed to go. So I brought her crackers and sprite and her clothes and she got dressed in the bathroom.

When we got to school I went to the gym for morning duty and Brookie went to my classroom to spend some quality time with my trash can...lots of quality time. The two should be quite close now because when duty was over she was still bent over it. And when my first group ended she was still bent over it. I probably need to get them BFF necklaces because when my second, third and fourth groups were over she was still bent over it. I decided enough was enough. She needed to go home.

So I called her dad and he said that was nonsense. That I didn't need to miss work. She'd be fine. I explained that she was feeling terrible and heaving so much her tummy was hurting. He said she seemed fine yesterday when she was playing with her cousins (who were visiting from out of state) and to tell her to suck it up and go to class.

He can be a tough dad. I tried to talk to her about trying going to class, but it's rather hard to talk to someone with their head in a can. So I made an executive decision, took the day off and brought her home. Afterall I am the mom and am the one equipped with motherly insticts. She was obviously sick and the man had no idea what he was talking about.

Once I informed all the teachers that I was leaving so they wouldn't send students to my room I took Brooklyn home and put her to bed. I was a little nervous about making my own decision when her father had suggested something else, but I kept reminding myself that I knew better than he what was best for her.

I checked on her often and clearly the child was on her death bed.

The first time I peeked in on her she was in a pair of my heels. Clearly she was very sick. Everyone knows that dressing up makes you feel better. The poor dear was taking it upon herself to force herself to get better.

And apparently Madame was feeling poorly too because she dressed her up as well.

She even tried that age old method of 'feeding her cold'. Oh yes, she was a very sick girl.

And finally I found her in some kind of ritual with her Barbie. They used a fiber optic light to take the place of fire. I'm guessing she was praying to God for forgiveness for exaggerating her illness and making a fool of her gullible, soft hearted mama.

I really hate it when he's right.

Sweetness

2008-01-13T05:36:00.000-08:00

Ya'll won't believe what Sharon over at Hustle Hag has done. She went and gave me award. And that's not the best part. The best part is that it's the 'you make my day' award and really, I can't think of a nicer compliment. Just knowing that something I do or say can bring a moment of happiness to someone else is all I could ever ask for out of blogging. Thank you Sharon for your sweetness. You rock!

So, do you wanna see it? Do you?? You must have ants of excitement in your pants. I know I do. So without further ado (I just love that word...ado...it is just so full of cuteness) here is my award...

Ta-Da!!! Isn't it adorable? I get to keep it over on my sidebar to remind of the tickledness I felt when I first saw it. Yippe Skippee!!

And now for another best part. I get to pick some blogs that 'make my day' and give them the award also. The instructions said to pick ten blogs, post about them and then leave them a comment telling them about the award. But you know me. I'm a rebel, so I only picked seven. It's not that there aren't other blogs that make my day, it's because I think I know all these ladies well enough to know they won't be bothered by this. So here is my list. These are all women that make me smile A LOT and I am ever so grateful to each and every one of them...

MomMom's Rant

A Mid Size Home on the Prairie

For Love of Home

Tara's Blog

Toto, I Have a Feeling We're Not In Kansas Anymore

The Jackson Journey

John Deere Mom

Okay Ladies, it's your turn to bless someone else. Who makes YOUR day??

Babbling Can Cure Sad Pants

2008-01-11T13:47:00.000-08:00

Hi my devoted readers of babble! How was your day?? BOTH girls are sick so I am having to sit at home and miss out on helping at The Power Team tonight event tonight. That made me sad in my pants so I decided to do something to cheer myself up.

Step one: Comfy cozy pj's. It's hard to get happy in tight jeans.

Step two: Eat an ice cream sandwich. How can you be sad eating that?

Step three: Put on a movie guaranteed to cheer you up each and every time you watch it, Sister Act. When I see Nun Whoopie up there shaking her booty in her habit and those little old ladies signing I just HAVE to smile.

Step four: Babbling. I can't help it. I'm a born babbler and when I am down I need to babble to someone to work the sad out of my system. So guess who the ~~poor saps~~ lucky souls are that get to read my ~~drivel~~ babbling?

Uh huh, it's you! Don't let your excitement overwhelm you.

First I have to elaborate on a recent comment left on my blog. You may or may not have noticed someone talking about the time a student bit me on the...um, boob. Since so many of the wonderful teachers and parents from the school I currently teach at read this blog I thought it might be prudent to reassure them that I am not in the habit of letting students put their mouths on me. Well, there was that time last year that boy licked me in the face, sorta cow like with one big lick that started at the bottom of my face and went ALL the way back up, but I am told he only does that if he really likes you, so that wasn't really a lick, it was more like a compliment (see how my warped brain operates?).

Now back to the attack on my boobage. Here's what happened (and Regina, no laughing...you got enough kicks outta this when it actually happened)...

One morning I was out on my morning jog, well I walked some too, so to be fair let's call it my morning jalk (half walk, half jog)...Okay, so I was out on my jalk with a friend of mine that was an aide at our campus. She mentioned that she was going to be out for a few days and none of the other aides would cover her bus route (she road a bus and helped with some mentally handicapped children in the mornings). I immediately offered to fill in for her and we went on jalking.

Bright and early the next morning I showed up to help on her bus route. The first day was challenging, the two brothers she rode with were a little rowdy and liked to throw things at you. The youngest was cute and smiled a lot, especially when he hit you in the back of the head with the buckle on the seatbelt. That really made him happy.

The second day I came prepared. I brought some of those books with the bug eyes in them that stick out through all the pages and crack you up. I hoped that would be more entertaining that trying to kill me. My brilliant plan worked great until we stopped to drop the youngest child off. The teacher on duty by the bus drop off wanted to talk to the bus driver (this really nice man) and leaving the bus running, he hops off to answer her questions about a note he delivered to the mom for them the day before.

This is where things went terribly awry. The oldest child, I guess he was 13, suddenly makes a dash for the drivers seat of the bus, which as I mentioned a moment ago, was STILL RUNNING. Okay. This is in the morning, before school and there are children everywhere. I had visions of him throwing the bus into drive and running amuck through masses of screaming children. So I put my hands around his shoulders (he was as tall as I am...that's not really saying, much, but still he was as tall as me) and I pulled him away from the driver's seat. Somehow in the struggle that ensued he ended up facing me as he tried to lunge sideways toward the steering wheel. I yelled out the door for help from the bus driver (suddenly I understood why they had a male driver who was rather large) and while the we struggled and the driver ran towards us, the boy latched down onto my boob with all the might in his little choppers.

OUCH!

It really, really hurt. We managed to get him to detach and then I tried to pretend like nothing happened. But oh no, there was to be none of that. My lovely boss (stop laughing woman, I mean it) insisted I fill out an accident report and then called down to my room that afternoon ON THE INTERCOM and said they needed me to come down so they could take a picture of my injury (she made sure I was alone first). Of course she was kidding about the picture, but I did have one heck of a bruise from that bite.

We found out later from his teachers (we sent him to a school nearby with a life skills unit so we didn't know about his nija teeth) that this was his preferred method of attack. It would have been nice for the teachers at that neighboring school to have warned us. But it's ok. My boob and I forgive you. Good thing he bit my right boob, because my left boob is not nearly as forgiving.

Now you know the entire story and you can rest assured I shall not be attempting to turn any of your children into cannibals.

Hold on to your panties cause I have some terrific news. I am not done babbling yet! I know it is so hard to handle all this excitement, but please try (and you can stop holding your panties now, people are staring).

Last night was night number two of The Power Team Event and we had an even bigger group come up and accept Christ as their savior. I'd guess it was close to two hundred, but I haven't heard an official count. This time there were several entire families that came forward. It was so amazing!

I mentioned in my first Power Team post that my husband was a little nervous about the amount of FIRE in the high school. Last night they did the fire bit again and I snapped some pictures (of horrible quality) with my phone and I thought I'd share a few pics of what panicked my principal hubby.

This was on the stage in our high school auditorium. I guess I can kinda see why he was nervous...if I turn my head sideways...and squint just a little...yes, I can sorta see why he had a bit of anxiety over the situation.

I better hush now. Don't be too sad. I babble a lot and I'll be back later ( and seriously, let go of those panties it's getting a little weird).

Being Tested

2008-01-11T04:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was one of the toughest teaching days I've had in a long time. All week long we've been benchmarking, meaning we've been giving last years TAKS test to our students to get an idea of where we stand. That gives us a better idea about who needs to have extra help and tells us specifically what areas they are struggling in. I administer the test to the dyslexic students because they receive a few special accommodations on the test (like me being able to read the questions to them).

My group yesterday only had three boys in it. The day started off great. They did everything I asked them to do without a problem. Then about halfway through the test something changed. I'm not sure what happened to cause it, probably just the fact that the test is really long and all that reading is tough on a dyslexic child. The change occurred in the attitude of one the boys taking the test, and boy oh boy did his attitude change.

This little boy is new to our district. In his previous school he had failed every single subject last year, but they'd moved him on anyway. When we called to see what was up with that we were told that he had failed because he spent almost the entire year expelled or in I.S.S. (in school suspension). So basically he had never been in class. I'm not blaming that school. I know exactly why he was kicked out of class. It was because that is what he wanted. The reason I know that is because that's what he wanted me to do with him yesterday. He wanted me to send him to the office or kick him out of my class.

He started off by saying stuff like, 'I don't care about this test. I'm not taking it anymore.' When I kept insisting that he was going to take it and he was going to do well he started making really loud noises while the other students were testing. When this didn't get him kicked out of my room he started throwing things (his test, his pencil, his sharpener....anything in reach really). He threatened, he flipped me off, he was determined to get sent out of the room and get out of doing his work. He finally came right out and said, 'why don't you just kick me out of here? That's what everyone else does.'

And there it was. I had known the reason he was acting so mean (he said some way mean things) and violent, but I had not expected him to just come right out and say it. My answer to him was that I wasn't everyone else and I knew he was smart and that he could slam dunk this test.

And it was true. I knew he could do well. It is obvious this child is very bright. There is no reason for him to be failing all his classes and throwing his life away. So what the rest of the day (several hours of it) came down to was a battle of wills...him against me. I sat across from him and pointed to each and every word saying 'read it' and then on the next word 'read it' and on the next and the next and the next. I never raised my voice. I acted like I had all the time in the world and that I was never, ever going to stop pushing him to do his best. Eventually he got sick of me pointing to each word and saying read it over and over until he read it and he started reading on his own.

Of course when he'd get to the questions he'd try to just randomly circle answers. My response to that was that apparently we needed to read the entire story again (there are six fairly long stories and about fifty questions). When I flipped back to the beginning of the story and pointed to the first word and started saying 'read it' to him, he backed down and said, 'okay, okay. I'll answer them right.'

There was so much more that happened, but you get the idea of how the day went. It wasn't fun and it was very stressful. When he finally walked out of my room with the other students it was all I could do to not cry....from stress...from relief that we'd managed to finish...from sadness that he was so hardened at such a young age...just from a lot of things.

I sucked it up and took the tests down to the boy's regular classroom teacher. She graded the tests and they all passed. Not only did they all pass, but the little boy who was so angry and mean made a perfect score. I knew he could. He was the only person in the entire grade to do that. I saw him last night walking down the street with a group of kids with hats on crooked and pants down hanging low on their hips. I pulled up and rolled down my window and said, 'Hey J, guess who made a 100 on that test.' He responded with a tough and attitude filled, 'who?' I didn't say a word. I just pointed at him. He tried to hide the smile that burst through, but I saw a quick glimpse of it before he tried to act like he didn't care. Then I said, 'guess who was the only person in the entire grade to make a 100.' He again says, 'who?' and I just slowly point at him. This time he doesn't try to hide his delight. 'No way!' he yelled and I smiled, pointed at him again and gave him a thumbs up. Then I drove away.

I love my job.

Power Team

2008-01-09T19:07:00.000-08:00

Tonight the Power Team came to visit our community. Actually they will be here for five nights, but tonight was the first. If you don't know anything about the Power Team check out their website http://www.thepowerteam.com/. They are incredible and bring a wonderful message in a way that captures the attention of the youth.

We started working to raise money to bring them here, gosh, months ago. Several of the local churches did fund raisers and some of the businesses donated too. I was a little disappointed to see that we didn't totally fill the high school auditorium on the first night. But boy howdy, I was NOT disappointed by the end of the altar call. Guys, over 100 people came forward. That is AMAZING in a town this size. Most of them were teens and that is almost half of our high school enrollment. Can you imagine the change this can make in this town and in our schools? Some of the people were older though. I even took down contact information from a lady that was about seventy years old. I am so happy that she found the Lord! I couldn't stop crying. And smiling. And crying some more. And smiling some more. I was all teeth and tears.

The 'show' started out with stack after stack of wood being lit on fire after they were doused with some type of fuel. Now remember this was in the high school. My husband is the high school principal and gave them permission to have the rally there. People, you should have seen that man's face! I thought he was going to have an aneurysm on the spot! I can just see visions of the school burning down dancing in his head. But things went fine. They broke all the wood, nobody caught on fire and everybody was happy. Of course Dave had to go to the men's room shortly there after and I am convinced it's because he almost messed his britches!!!

As I said earlier the Power Team will be here through Sunday so pray that God continues to move in the hearts of the people in our town. I am helping sell stuff, usher during offering and with the Altar call. It will be a busy week, but well worth every second!!!

Side Note: The Power Team visited our elementary school earlier today and Brookie is now crushing on a 21 year old man with muscles bigger than she is! What am I going to do with that child?

Love Note With A Twist

2008-01-07T17:53:00.000-08:00

This morning while I was showering a wave of hubba, hubba husband love washed over me. You know, the kind of feeling that a wife can only feel early in the morning BEFORE their hubby actually wakes up and opens his mouth and ruins a perfectly good moment.

Oh I kid. My husband never annoys me when he opens his mouth (I love you honey!!! You can go back to watching ESPN now. Muah!).

Okay, where was I? Oh yes, I was in the showering feeling all warm and lovey dovey (gosh, that sounds dirty. What is with my blogging lately??). Well, while I was feeling sappy I spotted Brookie's bathtub markers and that gave me a grand idea. Dave always showers after I do so I decided to take the red marker and write a big giant I HEART U on the shower wall for him to find. After that was done I went back to my normal showering routine and smiled stupidly to myself as I thought of his reaction to my note. I thought of the way my serious, quiet, anal retentive husband would smile and...

Wait....anal retentive....he is anal retentive and he is going to climb into this shower and see my note and instead of a little love note left to make him smile he is going to see RED MARKER on his SHOWER WALL and he is going to FLIP OUT. He has never given the girls a bath. He'd have no idea what shower markers were. Well poohdunkle. Now what was I going to do? I really didn't want to wash it off. I wanted to surprise him with a note in the shower, but I didn't want to make him angry. So I did this:

In case you can't read it, the note ended up saying: I HEART U (don't freak...this is a tub marker).

After I amended my little note I once again returned to my regularly scheduled shower and then halfway through washing my hair I started to giggle. What kind of love note was that? Who wrote an amendment to a love note? The more I thought about it the harder I giggled at myself. I almost decided to erase it all and forget the whole thing, but then it occurred to me that there was nothing wrong with my note. It may not be a typical love note, but it was OUR kind of love note and it was perfect...perfect for us. So I left it and guess who loved it?

My anal retentive husband loved it, that's who.

Prayer Request

2008-01-06T18:43:00.000-08:00

My cousin Taylor was attacked by a pack of wild dogs earlier today. So far all I know is that when they got her to the hospital part of her skull was exposed, her neck had been ripped open and that she had no feeling in her hands (they fear spinal cord damage I think). They say she is in pretty bad shape and has been care flighted out. She is Lauren's age and has no parents (lives with her grandmother). Her mother died when she was a few weeks old and she never knew her father. Please add her to your prayer list. I know this blog doesn't reach very many people, but every prayer helps.

Thank you all and God Bless.

Edit: Ran home at lunch to post a quick update for you. I called the hospital and Tayler (I spelled it correctly this time Jax- nannie nannie) answered the phone herself. She really sounded like she was in good spirits. They had to repair 36 areas during surgery and there were at least that many more puncture wounds that they cleaned and left to heal on their own. She was out skating alone when a Pit Bull attacked her. She fell to the ground and covered her head and then another dog joined in...and another and another until SIX dogs were attacking her at once. Finally a wonderful and brave woman drove by and saw them attacking her and honked her horn repeatedly to scare the dogs away. When that didn't work she grabbed one of her golf clubs and jumped out of her car and beat the dogs off of Tayler. As far as I am concerned this woman is a hero. Anyway, Tayler isn't sure when she gets to come home, but her life isn't in danger and she has all the feeling in her hands now. Praise God. Continue to pray for a speedy recovery (physically, mentally and emotionally). Thank you!!

Snap! Crackle! Pop!

2008-01-05T10:09:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid I loved static electricity. I used to lay in bed at night under a fluffy blanket and amaze myself with the sparks I could make (somehow that sounded dirty, but I promise it wasn't). Then there was the time I had a slumber party and my daddy took what seemed like hundreds of balloons, blew them up, rubbed them on his head (he had hair back then), and stuck them all over the ceiling in the living room. All of us little party animals in princess pajamas slept under that canopy of hairy balloons and while we were happily dreaming of what it would be like to be Smurfette all the balloons drifted down on top of us. When we woke up the next morning we were covered in a blanket of balloons. It was like magic! And oh my goodness what fun my brother, sister and I had sliding around the house in our sock feet building up a charge and then sneaking up and shocking the crapola out of each other. Good times, good times.

Well things have changed. I no longer like static electricity. In fact I am starting to loathe it. It messes with my skirts. It messes with my hair. It makes me accidentally shock the daylights out of people (mostly myself) and since I'm officially old it's just not funny anymore. It's annoying. But apparently we chose to live in the center of where all static electricity in the universe dwells because no matter what I do I get shocked. If I touch a door, it shocks me. If I touch a car, it shocks me. If I touch my computer it shocks me so bad I keep to check and see if my eyebrows were blown off.

I'm not the only one being stalked by the static. Brookie often looks like she stuck her finger in a light socket. Man oh man that child's hair can stand on end. It's amazing really. And the last time Madame Dog went out to potty she came back with so much static charged dry grass stuck to her that she looked like a tiny scarecrow (of course Mighty Dog is still the one that needs to petition the Wizard for a brain).

Speaking of my dogs, if I don't figure out how to stop this shocking madness soon they are going to run away (I have shocked them so many times that they now look at me suspiciously if I get within ten feet of them). Then I'll have to resort to a pet elephant or rhino so that their tough skin will protect them from my jolts. Of course the thought of the Dave's face the first time the rhino hiked it's leg on his shoes makes that idea almost fun, but I like my dogs so I'd rather just stop zapping them.

So does anyone out there have any ideas on how I can stop the static madness?

Toilet Owners Beware!

2008-01-03T17:34:00.000-08:00

I don't want to cause nationwide panic and mass hysteria, but I think there is a monster in my house. Seriously people, A MONSTER.

I know! I was just as amazed and frightened as you are.

This isn't just any monster either. Oh no, not for me, I just don't roll that way. You see if I had a vampire it would be easy...garlic, holy water, sunshine, a stake in the heart...no problem. Or maybe a nice werewolf...hello, this is Texas, guns are everywhere and surely a silver bullet could be found. A monster under the bed? That's easy. I'd just show them what's under Brookie's bed and they'd so be running for their lives.

But could my monster be something that simple?? Nooooo. Instead of a run of the mill one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater I end up with some freaky monster with what must be half a dozen butts! Seriously people, A BUTT MONSTER.

I'd show you a picture of the beast, but I haven't actually seen it yet. But that matters not, because it is so living in my house and I have proof! Behold the evidence....

This toilet paper roll was full this morning. FULL. But look at it now. It's empty. EMPTY. Scary no? And if that freaks you out wait 'til you see this...

All of these toilet paper rolls are fresh out of the trash in one of our bathrooms (yes, just one of them). This very trash was emptied less than a week ago and now it is filled with all of these emptied toilet paper rolls (and we were out of town half the week!). It's okay. Don't panic. Take a deep breath. I was frightened too, but things will be okay. I will find this horrifying butt monster and I will conquer him.

But first I have to wait for him to get home from the basketball game.

Resolution

2008-01-02T14:21:00.000-08:00

It's a brand new year and this will be my first post in 2008. For some reason I've had trouble trying to pull all my thoughts together for a post. Material to write about shouldn't be a problem. 2007 was a rough year on our family, but in the end we came out of it wonderfully blessed.

For more than half of last year my baby sister was in the hospital fighting a mysterious illness. As if her bone disease and connective tissue disease were not enough she up and got tetanus, or what the doctors thought was tetanus for six months. It turned out to be a tumor on her thymus causing her to have horrible spasms that kept her hospitalized and even caused her to be put into a coma. When they finally figured out what the problem really was they didn't give us a lot of hope that she would survive the illness, the surgery and the treatment after surgery. But God is GOOD and she came through the surgery with flying colors and ended up avoiding chemo totally. This was all God and His answer to hundreds and hundreds of prayers.

Still, even with such a wonderful story to share I couldn't decide what to write about in my first post of the year. I was torn between Shanna's story, or sharing how wonderful Christmas was, or about our lovely trip to visit good friends for New Year's Eve, or maybe even sharing my New Year's Resolutions.

Finally, after starting and stopping numerous posts, I decided to take the easy way out and simply post a few pictures that Lauren took throughout the year and by doing so, avoid writing anything at all. That's when I came across this picture:

I took this picture a few weeks back when stopping by to check on some of my students and their family. Six people lived in this house...four children and two adults. It's hard to see in this picture how very tiny this house is or that several of the windows are broken out and covered only in cardboard and tape. We (some teachers at my school) made sure the children had a good Christmas with bikes and toys and clothes. The family ended up moving out of our district over the holiday and I know I will worry about the children for a long, long time.

Even though the boys are gone, I am thankful that I still have this picture. It serves as a reminder of what many of my students face each morning when they wake up. Some don't have electricity. Others do not have water. Many of them worry about food for their next meal and having warm clothes to wear.

I am thankful, so very, very thankful that God allows me to be a part of these precious lives day after day. I pray that I am a blessing to them and that I touch their lives in a positive way. God loves each of the children I teach even more than I do (and that is saying a lot) and seeing this picture somehow rekindled my desire to be the very best teacher I can be.

So there you have it. That is my resolution and my prayer for 2008...to be the best teacher I can possibly be and to let God's love overflow onto the children I am so very blessed to teach.

Edit: Please ignore the bird poodunkle/tinkle (not sure which it is) in the picture. Apparently it fell just as I snapped the picture. The bird obviously wanted it's 'stuff' to be famous. Well, now you've done it bird, a whole six and a half people will forever remember seeing your poodunkle/tinkle. Congratulations.

The List

2007-12-29T07:22:00.000-08:00

Apparently there is a pecking order of the best farters in my household. Personally I do not like the word fart. I prefer to call them puffs, but I am using my Brookie's terminology, so fart it is.

As you can tell she is a delicate flower full of gentility and grace (cough, cough).

Brookie (who takes after her father) told me all about this ranking last night. I was as shocked as you are. According to my seven year old fart analyst it goes something like this:

1. Madame (our Boston Terrier...she does let 'em rip. A lot. And they do stink. A lot.)

2. Brookie (I am sure it pained her to give the number one spot to the dog)

3. Dad (I am thinking he's been under-ranked about...oh...two spots)

4. Mighty Dog

5. Lauren

6. Mom

After sharing the list with me Brookie said, "Sorry Mom, but you just don't stink bad enough to make the top of the list. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings."

Don't worry honey, you didn't.

Warning: Mushy Post Ahead

2007-12-28T08:09:00.000-08:00

We were going through a drawer of old photos and keepsakes at Dave's parent's house and found this letter that Dave wrote:

That little sweet talker had quite a way with words didn't he? I really loved finding this note. It made my heart go pitter-pat. He was in the second grade when he wrote this, that is the same grade Brookie is in now. It's hard to imagine the boy he was back then. Somewhere along the way he lost most of the sweet talk (and the legible handwriting), but I know that in the heart of my big, tough man still lives that loving little boy. I can see it in the way he takes care of our girls. I can see it in the way he worries over the troubled students on his campus. I can hear it in his voice when he talks to his dad. I can feel it when he puts his arms around me.

I took this picture yesterday on the way home from my parents. I had been sleeping for quite some time (hours actually) and when I woke up I didn't say anything. I just lay there looking at him, my eyes hidden behind my shades. He was unshaven and rugged looking. He was so calm and at ease driving his car full of sleeping girls safely home. That's when it occurred to me that I don't need the sweet talking little boy inside him to tell me how he feels. He shows me every day in so many ways. Like when he checks every lock in the house before bed to make sure we are safe or when he kisses each of us goodbye before leaving for work in the mornings.

We've been married sixteen and a half years and I love the big lug even more now than I did at eighteen when we first wed.

And I think he is very, very, very, very pretty.

Brookie hearts Build-a-Bear

2007-12-27T06:35:00.000-08:00

Brooklyn and I ventured out yesterday with the bajillions of people who went shopping the day after Christmas (I kid you not, there really were bajillions...or maybe even trajillionbajillions). All the traffic made me long for home and it's population of 14 people. The reason we braved the masses in the metroplex was to visit the most glorious and wondrous place on the earth (according to Brookie), Build-a-Bear. Personally I find all the unstuffed animal skins lying about a bit too Silence of the Lambs for me (kidding Brookie, now stop reading my blog and go clean your room!!).

Mumsie gave Brooklyn a gift card for 100 dollars. That is mucho monieo (I speak fluent Pretendish...that means I pretend I can speak another language) for a little person such as herself to spend in one place. I didn't think she could actually spend that much in one shopping trip.

I was so wrong.

We walked out of that store with outfits and pajamas and shoes and panties and glasses and hats and purses and coats and....well, you get the picture. When all the glorious shopping was complete we headed back to my parents where the population was much smaller (and the people were way nuttier...too much pumpkin cheesecake appears to make people way too jovial).

I took the following picture exactly six minutes after we left Build-a-Bear.

She shopped til she dropped. The child has no shopping stamina. Clearly I have failed as a mother and a woman.

A Christmas Conspiracy

2007-12-21T20:27:00.000-08:00

I think there is a conspiracy around here. I know it may sound hard to believe, but my students are trying to fatten me up. I'm not sure why. Maybe they think chubby teachers are jollier. Or cuddlier (it's my blog I can make up words if I want). Or slower and therefore easier to run
away from.

Or maybe they want to offer me up as a sacrifice to one of those Pokemon things. I don't know what those are exactly, but some of the kids seem to be in a cult that worships them.

By now you are rolling your eyes at my suspicions, but am I serious here people. My life may be at risk, or at least my dress size. If you don't believe me just check out the evidence:

Exhibit A:

This is a jar of Bar-B-Q Sauce that i received in a package of goodies. Now if someone gives you Bar-B-Q sauce they are pretty much expecting that you will eat meat with it and if you eat meat with it you'll need beans and potato salad and bread. See how they turned one little gift into a million calories?? Sneaky little people.

This jar of Cocoa was in the package as well. Hmmm...

It's chocolaty and I love chocolate. Plus it's warm right here in the winter when I need warm. Coincidence? I think not.

Exhibit B:

This is homemade jam from the fantabulous grandmother of one of my students. It is so yummy that i am forced to eat every last bite of it every year. Every bit people! That is VERY suspicious.

Exhibit C:

This is homemade banana nut bread. I love banana's. I love nuts. I love bread. See?? These kids are oh so clever. They have planned out this fattening uppening to the last detail.

Exhibit D:

They are busting out the big guns now. Coke AND chocolate...two of my biggest weaknesses.

So now I am sure you will have to agree with me that they are definitely trying to fatten me up. The only question now is why? I'll just hope that they want more of me to love, but if I suddenly disappear be sure and call in all Pokemon. I still say they are up to something.

However, while I am still alive and thin enough to type let me share with ya'll some of the other things the students brought in.

See that table full of goodies? I am a very blessed person to be teaching such a loving and giving group of children.

I got this from the sweetest little girl. She took the top off an ornament, glued it to a glass coaster and used it as a little vase. Isn't that the cutest idea??

And I LOVE this little pillow. It is so me. It's bright green and pink and it says, 'Life Is Good' and you know what? It is! It is very, very good.

Just in case I don't see you guys before Christmas (or before I am offered up to the Pokemon thingies) let me say...

Brooklyn's Good Hair Day

2007-12-20T19:05:00.000-08:00

Brookie had her little Christmas program tonight. She looked so cute! I really feel like we reached a milestone tonight. She actually let Lauren and I curl her hair and she liked it! This is a big deal people. For the past seven hundred and ninety-two days she has worn her hair in a ponytail. No bows. No clips. No ribbons. Just a plain old rubber band and a plain old ponytail. My heart was breaking and my fashion sense was begging her for mercy. How could a child of mine care so little about her appearance? It just didn't make sense! She was worried about stuff like comfort. And warmth. What was that all about?

But tonight, finally, the Angel of Fashion and Style smiled upon my family and blessed us with the gift of big, beautiful hair. (Okay it didn't stay big, I tried like the true child of the eighties I am, but she told me to not get carried away. So, I had to tame it. Sniff. Sniff.). But it was still beautiful and best of all it was not in a ponytail. Praise be to God in the Heavens.

She did great in her little program. The only glitch was her shoes. She wore shoes that maybe didn't fit perfectly, but the LOOKED GOOD and really, that's what matters here (I am kidding, they were a little big, but didn't hurt). She was afraid they would fall off so she walked out onto the stage like some kind of Fashion Diva Nutcracker...all stiff legs and pointed toes. She was afraid her shoes would fall off so she didn't want to bend anything (not sure why that helped, but whatever keeps her happy). She was front row center and did great. Actually they ALL did great. I was very proud of all the children from every class. They were all adorable.

Now for the pictures. Let me apologize for the poor quality. I keep taking pictures with my phone and it doesn't really take good quality pictures, but I don't care because I love my phone. I mean love it, love it. The way I love chocolate and my kids (not necessarily in that order). Anyway here are the crummy pictures my beloved phone took of my lovely daughter (with her hair curled...yay!)

Please ignore the Playboy Bunny in the second picture. That was from my past life. Before I was a mom. Or a Baptist.

(that was a joke people)

Lauren's History and An Update

2007-12-20T11:14:00.000-08:00

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with Lauren like it was yesterday. We lived in Boyd, Texas at the time. Dave was a history teacher and a coach and I was in college and a substitute teacher. On this particular day I didn't have classes and nobody had called me to sub. Dave had already left for work and I was making the bed when a wave of dizziness washed over me. Somehow I knew right then that I was pregnant. I got dressed, ran to the little grocery store there in town, bought a pregnancy test and was back home taking it within thirty minutes.

When I saw that it was positive I couldn't wait to get up to the school and tell Dave. We had lost a baby due to miscarriage and somehow things just felt empty after that. I knew this would make him as happy as it had already made me. When he walked into the office and saw me standing there holding a cute little pair of baby booties he picked me up in front of the entire office staff and swung me around and around. Then immediately pulled me into a little office used for meetings, put his arms around me and prayed for God's protection over me and our unborn child. Little did we know how very much she'd need those prayers.

Early in the pregnancy I started bleeding and was put on bed rest (much later...and after three more miscarriages we found out I have a Bicornuate Uterus). Then later I developed Preeclempsia and was put back on bed rest. Looking back I guess the Preeclempsia was pretty severe. I was so young though and so optimistic. I guess I really couldn't imagine anything bad happening to me or the baby. I managed to carry her to the 37th week and at that point a stress test was done and something was wrong (honestly I don't even know what it was) and they decided to induce labor. They started the drip at five p.m. on a Tuesday and I had her at two p.m. on a Thursday. She didn't open her eyes when she was born. I thought she was sleeping (again, I was so young). They took her away without her ever crying or 'waking up'. Still I thought everything was fine. Many hours later I heard the doctor calling for a care flight. When they said the baby's name I started screaming for someone to come and tell me what was going on (this was literally seven or eight hours after she was born and nobody had told me she was sick). I heard my mom out in the hall telling Dave that he had to tell me. I heard him crying (for the first time ever) and saying he didn't know how. Finally he came in and told me she was very sick and they didn't know what was wrong. Her Apgar had been a two. That's bad.

Long story short on her birth (well sorta short) she was care flighted to Oklahoma City where Dave was told she wouldn't make it through the night. She had Group B Strep. Her lungs were not working. Her collar bone was broken (and various other problems). They said if she somehow pulled through this she would probably be brain dead. God worked a miracle (the first of many) and she came through the illness seeming to be perfectly healthy.

At six weeks we went to her first visit with her new Pediatrician. That's when we were told something was wrong with her heart. She ended up needing open heart surgery. We had that done the week before Christmas when she was 13 months old. She slept the entire first year due to three holes in her heart.

Then the next four years were great. She seemed so healthy and everything was going fine. Then Lauren started to develop breast tissue. It really worried me so I took her to the pediatrician who said it was just baby fat. I had my doubts but tried to put my worries aside. When she started developing pubic hair later that year (in kindergarten) I knew something was wrong. I made an appointment with a pediatric endocrinologist myself and found out she was in precocious puberty. They did an MRI to look for tumors. When none were found it was determined that this was idiopathic and we needed to just treat the symptoms. They told us her growth plates were closing early and that it would take a few inches from her adult height. They predicted she'd be 5'7" even with the inches she lost. I'm only 5'4" so I thought that sounded great! The next visit they did another bone age and found she'd only be 5'4". I was still okay with that. The next visit they said she wouldn't even make five feet tall and that her bone age was that of a thirteen year old (she was six by now) and that her growth plates were closing already. Then she started her period. When she was SIX.

At this point we put her on Lupron (a truly awful drug and I still wonder if we made the right decision putting her on it). The Lupron put her in menopause and stopped the puberty process. She took it once a month in the leg and each shot cost us $1921.00. Our insurance did not cover it. It was not easy, but of course she was worth every penny.

Eventually we moved and her new Endocrinologist took her off the Lupron. She was nine at the time (I think). Almost immediately Lauren got very, very sick. She had so many symptoms that I didn't know what type of doctor to take her to. She had hot flashes, facial flushes, tachycardia, high blood pressure, major headaches, dizzy spells, gushing nose bleeds...I could go on and on, but you get the idea. We switched Endocrinologists again because I really felt like her problems were related to her endocrine system somehow. We found a fabulous new doctor (he didn't take insurance, but I stayed with him because he was the best around). Finally we got another brain scan done and they found a Pituitary Macroadenoma. It was so large that it had broken through her Sphenoid Sinus Cavity and filled it.

She needed brain surgery. Wow. That was a scary time. Our new endo ordered copies of the original brain scan that they took years before and on it they saw the tumor. Granted it was small at the time, but it was there. They had missed it. Anyway, we got the surgery set up at Presbyterian in Dallas with a Surgeon our endo really liked. We did the preop and filled out all the forms.

Then the night before the surgery we got a call from hospital administration. They canceled the surgery. We were in shock. They said she was too young for a surgery at their hospital and that we needed to go to Dallas Children's and have it done there. We had to start all over. We got everything set up at Dallas Children's and then THEY called right before the surgery and said the last MRI they ran showed the tumor was almost gone. PRAISE GOD. The doctors said that when they put her back on Lupron it must have starved the tumor of the hormones it needed to grow and it shrunk. We gave God the credit (as we should have).

Since then we've dealt with several health issues. Lauren has epilepsy. She has seizures every day of her life, but we have them under control now with several medications thanks to her great Neurologist. Her endo put her on a regimen of medication formulated to help her grow (and stop the growth plates from closing). It worked. She did make it to 5'2".

Fast forward to the present. Lauren has been having dizzy spells again and getting really sick to her stomach after every meal. We are not sure what that is about. She also has terrible back pain. We've tried buying new pillows and even a new bed. Nothing helps. She is to the point that she is asking to just sleep sitting up in the recliner to try and stop the pain. She also has awful pain in all her joints (especially in her knees). This is what led us to the doctor's office recently. She's been hurting like this for a really long time so I finally decided we need to figure out what is going on.

The rest you know about. He sent her for a MRI of her brain because some of her symptoms (sometimes her pupils don't match up, half her face droops and she loses feeling on the left side) sound like MS and she has some suspicious spots in her white matter. He also ran blood work for Rheumatoid Arthritis due to the genetic possibility that she has that and he sent her for a nuclear bone scan. Well the office called yesterday and said he really wants to see her again after Christmas, but didn't give any results. I couldn't wait another week. No way. So I went in and got copies of all the test results. I needed them anyway to send to all her specialists in Dallas.

This is what I found out. The spots are still on her brain, but they haven't changed. MS can't be ruled out, but the Radiologist doesn't really feel like that is the problem. Yay. There is also NO SIGN of the pituitary tumor. Praise God again! The blood work was normal. Another big thank you to God. The bone scan showed that vertebra L2, L3 and L4 were damaged somehow and an MRI was suggested. The report said it could be Degenerative Disc Disease. Hmmm. Not sure why she'd have that. She is 13. However it does explain the back pain. It also showed a problem with both ankles. No clue what that is about either. Her knees didn't show anything and they hurt way more than her ankles. Sooo...that's all I know until I talk to the doctor after Christmas. I am really afraid this is all just a bunch of complications from the Lupron. She is off it again, but it is some really harsh stuff. I just want whatever they find to be treatable so my baby will feel better. She is such a good girl and handles it all very well, but she shouldn't have to live in pain. I'd gladly take it on myself so she could be pain free for once in her life, but unfortunately it doesn't work that way.

Thanks for your prayers! I will keep you updated as I find out more.

Job Security

2007-12-19T15:08:00.000-08:00

I took this picture at our last playoff game. I am a Reading Specialist so I couldn't help but smile to myself when I saw this scenario.

It feels good to be needed.

I Know What You Did Last Christmas (a.k.a. A Scary Story)

2007-12-18T04:21:00.000-08:00

The following is a true account of something that happened in my very own house in the wee hours of the night. I saw something very scary. So scary, in fact, that the mere sight of it caused me to scream loudly enough to wake my family. (And the dogs). (And Fatty McFat Fish). (And the neighbors). If you do not like horror films or ghost stories or your hair turning white with fright, then I suggest you don't read any further.

Early, early this morning when the house was still and dark, I had one of those mommy feelings. No, not the feeling that says 'I need a vacation!', but the one that says, 'I need to go check on my babies.' As you know there is no rolling over and going back to sleep after that feeling grabs hold of you. So I very carefully and quietly crept from my bedroom, through the kitchen and rounded the corner of the living room. That's when I saw this...

Only it was dark. And I am night blind. And maybe it said, "mwaah haa haa haa, I am the headless shirt and I came to find my missing head." (I am not sure about that last one. It is all kinda fuzzy).

Okay, okay. It was just Dave's shirt. He got it out last night and for some reason decided to put it on an old plant hook in the living room instead instead of hanging it in the laundry room like he normally does. I know it's just a shirt, but for some reason it scared the daylights outta me! So I screamed like an eight year old girl and ran shamelessly for my life, never pausing to protect my children from it's evil, starched clutches.

Yes, I am a terrible person. Now if you will excuse me I have to go change my pants.

My Very Own Chia Pet

2007-12-16T20:24:00.000-08:00

This is a Maltese.

This is a Maltese that's been snorting Miracle Grow.

or huffing fertilizer.

Yes, there really is a dog inside all that hair.

Just say no Mighty Dog, just say no.

Through Lauren's Eyes

2007-12-16T06:43:00.001-08:00

I like looking through Lauren's photographs. It's like glimpsing the world through her eyes. If I am feeling sad and blue they are a sure way to lift my spirits. She sees the beauty around us and seeing her pictures reminds me to do the same.

We are blessed.

Brain Cramps, Zits and Depends

2007-12-14T18:20:00.000-08:00

Dave loves the Bourne movies, but we never managed to make it out to the theaters to see the last one, Bourne Ultimatum. I surprised him by bringing home the DVD. We are watching it now.

Translation: He is watching it and I am sitting here really confused.

While I wait for the movie to end so Dave can explain it to me I thought I'd spend some quality babble time with my blog. Action packed spy movies may make my brain cramp, but I can babble with the best of 'em.

My first order of babble news is to tell you that my husband forgot to pick up our youngest child yesterday while I was gone to a UIL academic event. Yes, this is the same husband that is smart enough to comprehend the Bourne Triology without falling onto the floor with brain spasms and begging for a sedative or the NFL Network (oh wait, those are the same thing). Apparently remembering to pick up our seven year old daughter (after I called to remind him) (twice) was more than he could handle. She was there long after every teacher left. That is how long it took the man to remember his child.

I was not happy.

Thank God our janitor is such a wonderful man. He stayed with her and waited for someone to remember that they were a parent.

Another thing that happened while I was at the UIL meet was that I almost turned back into a teenager. At least I thought I was turning back into a teen because I went to the bathroom and noticed not one, but two zits on my chin. Teens get zits, so when I saw them I decided that must mean I was turning back into a teen. I was pumped at the thought of being a teen again.

Then I looked at my boobs for a quick does of reality (defiantly not teen boobs).

Then I looked at my butt for further proof that I was most certainly still OLD.

And finally I looked to see if the super hair was still growing on my chin. (I say super because that sucker gets plucked every day and by the next evening it is growing back. If I could harness the amazing growing powers in that one little hair I would sell them to Hair Club for Men, cure all the baldness in the world and make a fortune). It was still there. Sigh. Excuse me while I go soak my teeth and eat some prunes.

Okay I am back. Where was I? Oh yes, I was babbling. I would stay and babble some more but I am afraid those prunes will kick in soon and I am almost out of depends.

Plus I have zits to pop, even though I am clearly old and not a teen.

Life is so not fair.

My Daughter Is a Superhero

2007-12-13T00:36:00.000-08:00

So yesterday was Lauren's nuclear bone scan. Yes, I said nuclear. As in they injected radioactive material into her vein. This is serious stuff ya'll. Nurse Button (I call her that because she really was cute as a button) made sure we understood just how serious it was by giving us a very strict set of rules to follow while we were out and about after the radioactive injection.

1. Do not hug anyone.

2. Do not stand near expectant mothers.

3. Do not leave tinkle on the toilet seat (she said urine, but for some reason I really dislike that word).

4. Do not spit on anyone.

5. Do not hold infants or small children.

By the time rule number three was recited Lauren was pretending to shoot Spidey webs at me when Nurse Button wasn't looking and I was giggling behind my hand like a school girl. Clearly we understood the gravity of the situation. In fact, our grasp of the serious nature of these rules was so apparent that Nurse Button felt it necessary to repeat the rules to us THREE TIMES before turning us loose on an unprotected and unsuspecting world.

Within minutes we realized the potential for greatness from this radioactivity. It was raining and sleeting out when we left the hospital the first time and Lauren climbed into the Suburban and put on her seat belt. Then she looked at me and said, "Mom, I think my super powers are already kicking in. I just got into the car without falling."

Ya'll don't know how amazing this is. What you have to understand is that she usually slips or stumbles even on a clear, rain-free day when climbing into the Suburban on account of something she inherited from me that I like to call shortness. Then we left Hobby Lobby and she got into the car AGAIN without falling and then AGAIN at On the Border (where she ate refried beans and then proceeded to produce radioactive farts).

That is THREE times that my daughter climbed into the Suburban with nary a stumble. This was huge. She was now able to enter vehicles in a single bound. Clearly she was a superhero with radioactive powers. Could a Mama be any prouder?? I felt it was my duty as a parent to a impart some superhero wisdom upon her. I explained that with power came responsibility. I also cautioned her to use her new powers for good instead of evil. She listened and nodded her head with understanding as I bestowed my wisdom upon her. She always has been a mature and responsible child. I knew I had nothing to worry about.

And then she told me that she couldn't wait to get home and tell her sister that she'd better stay out of her room or she'd spit on her with radioactive spit.

Okay, so maybe she isn't quite ready for the responsibilities of a superhero just yet. I guess my work as a parent is not yet done (and I have to say I am glad).

In all seriousness we should get the results for the MRI of her brain and the Bone Scan next week. I'll be sure and let ya'll know what we find out and in the meantime we continue to covet your prayers. She is actually in quite a bit of pain (popping advil like they are candy), but rarely complains (to anyone but her parents and Mumsie). She may not be a superhero to anyone else, but she is a superhero to me.

Stressings

2007-12-10T18:03:00.000-08:00

It was one of those days. If you're a mom you know exactly the kind of day I am talking about. It's the kind of day where nothing seems to go right. It could be anything from the alarm not going off, to the oatmeal burning, to the school calling and saying your child isn't wearing panties and that they were learning somersaults in P.E. (of course that's never happened to me), to the dog eating your new shoes. My version of a bad mommy day went something like this...

My oldest had to have a brain MRI done in a town about an hour and a half away. Actually I could stop right there. That's is more than enough stress for me. I hate it when she has these MRI's done. She is very brave about it, but she absolutely hates having that little cage put around her head and she hates the loud banging sounds even more. Just knowing she is anxious is enough to make me anxious too. Add icy road conditions to this already stressful trip and things just weren't looking like much fun. Of course I forged ahead and got everyone ready this morning.

This is the part where my youngest started throwing up. It wasn't just little, lady like throwing up. If there was an Olympic event for blowing chunks she would totally have a gold medal right now. So there I was torn about what to do. Did I reschedule an MRI that had already taken a few weeks to schedule or did I drag my poor sick baby out into the icy day? I opted for the dragging and off we went. Did I mention she was throwing up A LOT?? Every time she got sick she ended up saying she was starving. So I would feed her and then she'd get sick again (duh, what did I expect?). Suffice it to say it was a really long trip. Then we finally get there and they won't let me go back with my oldest because I have my youngest with me. I know she's 13 already, but she's still my baby and I wanted to be with her! She went back on her own and she did great (we don't have any results yet). Then I rushed home to get my youngest into the doctor and found out she has strep throat (blek). So off to the pharmacy and back home to prepare dinner.

When I have days like this I have to remind myself that I have just as many things to be thankful for as I do to whine about. I thank the Lord we made it there and back in one piece with no trouble from icy road conditions. I am thankful that Ren handled getting an IV without me and going through the MRI without me. I am thankful that cookie is already on antibiotics and well on her way to recovery. There are millions of children out there without access to doctors or medication and we are incredibly blessed to live in a country with access to both.

So when you see me again and my hair has all fallen out from stress just remind me to be thankful for the blessing of wigs and tell me to stop whining! See? Each time there is stress in life, there is also hidden blessings....put them together and you have stressings.

Making A Joyful Noise

2007-12-07T03:56:00.000-08:00

I love music. I just la-la-love it (I totally sang that part). I am one of those annoying people that sings all the time. I sing in the shower. I sing while I clean. I sing when I shop. I sing as I cook. I sing in the car (or I did before that ~~doodiehead~~ misguided soul broke out my window and stole my satellite radio system, may ~~he get chiggers down his pants~~ God bless his soul). I even catch myself singing in the halls at school. I just can't stop myself. I love to sing. If you don't believe me ask Drama Dad, as soon as he takes the cotton out of his ears he will definitely tell you that I do indeed sing ALL the time.

That wasn't always the case. For years and years I would not sing out loud at all. I mean none. Zero. Zippo (stop longing for those days Drama Dad cause they aren't coming back). There is one ~~big, fat, mean and ugly~~ reason that I wouldn't sing and that reason is called my elementary school principal. (I tell this story a lot so if you've heard it just skip to the next paragraph, I don't mind). You see once I was in the choir on angels at school. Oh I was sooo excited. I was going to be the bestest angel that ever had lived. I was going to have my curled (my mom was queen of the little pink sponge rollers back then). I was going to wear a beautiful white costume with sparkling silver wings. And I was going to sing (this is where my plan went awry). One day at rehearsal we were singing along and I guess I was stinking up the place with my bad self because the ~~big, fat, mean and ugly~~ principal suddenly stopped us mid song to say something like WHO IN THE WORLD IS SINGING LIKE THAT???? Well I just stood there and blinked at her because I had no idea what she was talking about, but apparently every other kid knew exactly what she was talking about because they all turned at pointed at me simultaneously.

Oh.

Big oh.

Big, BIG oh. That was the moment that I found out that I couldn't sing. I was stripped of my wings and banned from the choir of heavenly hosts. They made up another part for me, but that didn't matter to me because from that moment on I refused to sing. I wouldn't sing anywhere for any reason. I wouldn't sing when I was alone. I wouldn't sing at school when I was supposed to. I wouldn't sing in church. I just wouldn't sing period. Years went by and mom decided to make me join the choir at church in a brilliant scheme to try and trick me into singing again (I was totally on to you and your little plan mom). I proved to be the best lip syncing teen that choir has ever known. I never sang a note...not one single note.

Once again it was children that impacted my life and helped me to change for the better. I started out my teaching career in early childhood (kindergarten and then pre-k and then back to kindergarten). When you teach kindergarten you just have to sing. You have to. There is no way around it. But I soon found singing for children is nothing like singing for adults. Children are so amazing ya'll. I mean that. They are amazing. They give their love unconditionally and unashamedly. They don't judge. They don't condemn. They just love and it is a beautiful and healing kind of love. It wasn't long before I was singing without hesitation in front of my class and loving every minute of it.

Finally one day something profound occurred to me. God loves me with a child like love. By that I mean His love is unconditional and unending. He doesn't care what my voice sounds like either. In fact He thinks it's a beautiful sound when I sing praises to His name. So get used to it people. I'm gonna keep on singing and no amount of pointing, laughing or throwing of rotten tomatoes can stop me.

(and in case you didn't know...God loves YOU with that same kind of love. Exciting isn't it???)

No Time Like the Present

2007-12-05T19:51:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged by a friend from the blog For the Love of Home (which is a GREAT blog by the way). The challenge was to name an age that I wish I could go back to. I've thought about this off and on all day and I have to say I don't want to go back to any age. The here and now is exactly where I want to be (good thing since that's where I am at, huh?).

At first I was tempted to say I would go back and redo my teenage years. Not because they were so great, but because they were so awful. I've often wished I could go back and redo those years with the knowledge I have now. It's not that I misbehaved or acted crazy. The opposite was actually true. I was darn near the perfect child. No, the problem was that I was painfully shy. Despite all the awards I received and things I was nominated for back then (homecoming queen, class favorite, most beautiful, most friendly, president of this and sweetheart of that) I never, ever felt like I fit in with my peers. I had horrible self esteem and it really did make those days miserable. Looking back I have no idea why I felt so bad about myself. There was absolutely no reason for it, but bad is exactly how I felt.

The early years of my marriage were spent with my husband refusing to let me put myself down and that helped some. Then I became a teacher and somehow the unconditional love of hundreds of children has helped me in ways nothing else ever did. God led me to the career path of my heart and I will forever be grateful for the lives that I've been allowed to touch and for the lives that touch mine daily.

My twenties were good I guess, but they were a little chaotic. I married at 18 (sixteen years ago...wow...still shocks me to think about how fast time has flown by) and the first decade of our marriage was filled with college (for me), moving often for coaching jobs, and then there was the doctors. Lots and lots of doctors (for 'Ren). It's all a blur really...the worries...the fears...the hospital stays and the medical bills (oh my the medical bills). Dave was coaching and never home and well, there is a lot I could say about my twentieth decade, but suffice it to say that I just like the present better.

We now end this unscheduled babble to return to the tag at hand.

So what age would I choose? 34. That's how old I am now. My life in the here and now is far from perfect, but I can't think of a time in my life that I have been happier. Even though 34 doesn't feel 'young', I really don't think I would go back to any other age. I'm too blessed in the present. I have two beautiful children. I am head over heels in love with David. I adore my job. The town I live in is really starting to feel like home. I have a wonderful church home and an amazing new church family. I am starting to make some friends here and they are truly good people. So yeah, I'd have to say that life is good.

I don't wanna go back and you can't make me (wow, I sounded like a teen there...that's almost like going back isn't it?).

Now for who I am going to tag. I am only going to tag two people...

My cousin Jax who is an amazing woman and one of my favorite people.

Tara, who is a wonderful teacher and friend (and she has a brand new blog that you need to check out).

Perspectives

2007-12-05T04:12:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd post some pictures that were actually in focus to make up for the dreadful phone pictures I posted yesterday. My oldest daughter loves to go off into the wild blue and spend hours looking at the world through the lens of one of her cameras. When she returns from one of her little picture taking ventures I am always impressed and it's not with the pictures (though they are very good, especially considering she's had zero training). What impresses me is her perspective. She can find beauty in any setting and every time I look at a new crop of her photographs I am reminded of what an awesome God we serve.

The fact the Ren is the one that sees the beauty so clearly is a double blessing. Many people would have started viewing the world with cynicism after going through open heart surgery, a brain tumor, epilepsy and all the other things she has had to fight through in her young life. She is a remarkable and amazing young lady and I will stop being a sappy mom now and post the darn pictures. She took these when she was ten. She's even better now, but these are the only pictures of hers I have saved on this computer.

Surf's Up Santa!

2007-12-03T19:10:00.001-08:00

This is Cookie and the Santa she had to decorate for class. Her sister talked her into going with the 'surfer dude' look, and we all know that old St. Nick is well known for slashing up the waves.

Not.

I thought it turned out cute anyway (the Santa, not the picture. I took the pic with my phone and well, ewww).

In more holiday news, here is a copy of Brookie's letter to Santa:

Dear Santa,

Please bring me a PINK electric guitar, a picture of you and your wife and something awesome. Thank you for working so hard to bring all us good kids toys. I looks really hard. I will leave more cookies for you this year and more food for your reindeer.

Love,
Cookie

If anybody has any ideas about what something 'awesome' is be sure and let me know. I asked and she said that Santa will know. And don't ask about the picture. I have no clue what that's about unless it's her way of proving to herself that Santa is real.

Lauren wants a guitar also (not electric and not pink) and a marshmallow gun. At least she was a little more specific. I can work with a list like that.

Drama Dad bought himself a new boat and that is all that boy is getting (yes, he bought it at Christmas time and yes, it caused me a mild heart attack, but I am feeling better now.)

As for me, I want earplugs (in case you didn't notice that was TWO guitars people...oh yes, I want really, really good earplugs).