Category Archives: Uncategorized

Utah.

Standard
Utah.

Utah-you suck.

Sorry for being mean.

But my blog is based on karma, so I felt it necessary to say how I feel about something. This something being Utah.  Although now that I say it out loud, I fear the outcome.

See, Utah and my family have a strange relationship. Never been there. Not sure I really want to ever go either.  But my husband has to travel there at least once a year for business-so he has no choice.

And every time he goes, the shit hits the fan(pardon the language)…and this time I mean that, literally. Almost fifteen years of what I feel as bad luck with Utah.  He goes, we stay behind and wait for his return.  He goes and has much success, I stay and clean up messes. LOTS of messes.

I have no ill feelings towards Utah in general…just the yin and yang of it all is starting to drive me mad.

yin

He goes.

We stay.

But only when he is in Utah, do things really get nutty. Never good stuff. Always frustrating, heartbreaking, nail biting stuff.

I can go as far to say children have been hospitalized, countless illnesses, money woes, family fights, cars breaking down even death…you name it, it has happened.

I say yin and yang when I refer to this trip to Utah, because I am mentally using this to find clarity in all the madness I am dealing with over the past week…doctor’s visits, vomit, diarrhea, countless diapers to change, antifreeze oozing out of my daughter’s car, snow, fevers, and just the daily grind of getting people to and fro…with sick kids in tow and one car down.

With each trip, not  just Utah (but especially Utah), I am forced to find my village of people that will stand by me, to help aid in one disaster or another…some days all at once. I have depended on family and some friends each time…for this, I am grateful. It is a running joke in my immediate circle of supporters that my husband “must be in Utah” when things rapidly spiral out of control…and yet it is funny that when he is home,  we (me and my tribe and hardworking hubby) are all able to sit around and  enjoy a cocktail and laugh at all the bizarre and annoying events during Utah week (and how everyone and everything seem to fall back into place/heal once it is over)…

Poor Salt Lake…I truly do not know you, and I have already passed judgement on you…

I am hoping there is balance at the end of this tunnel that is clogged with crap.  My husband is having an extremely successful trip…I know this to be true.  With suffering, there will be relief…at some point.

Are there more pressing problems in the world that are bigger than what I am dealing with? Sure. But right now, ok maybe at least last night, I wanted to throw in the towel. I had had enough blows for one week.

But today is a new day, and my husband comes home tomorrow. We can rejoice in his success and celebrate. Then we will- together, attack each challenge and try to move forward.

. buddha      He is my yin, and I am his yang.

As corny as it sounds, we need each other. We find balance within ourselves when together…and I guess that is maybe why I had an epiphany while writing this…

I do not hate Utah, I love it. It brings balance to my life…it makes things clear to us as to why we are working so hard to move forward. Appreciating all our hard work-and bad days to be able to love the good ones…

Thank you, Utah…you just made my day.

Advertisements

He Would Be Proud.

Standard
He Would Be Proud.

Yesterday was a big day for me.  Like a REALLY big deal.  Not as a big as delivering a baby or getting married “big”…more like important. More like accomplishment.

I told my story in one of my first blogs a few months back, of my journey to find good health for myself…I needed it badly for peace of mind that I wasn’t going crazy…wasting days, months, and even years of dieting and being frustrated with myself.  I was beginning to believe it wasn’t my thyroid, or age…it was the dreaded depression that was a symptom of all of those possible illnesses that I suffered from.  I was sad…I wanted to give up on myself. I couldn’t stand to look at myself anymore…who was this person that I have become?

I am not that mommy that runs five miles every morning or gets to work out in some fancy gym for an hour uninterrupted. The extent of my workouts was walking with one or two or all four of my kids to any random destination to maybe, just maybe, take a pound off…or firm up a few of those cottage cheese curds on my thighs…but no such luck.

So I took things into my own hands last year…first on my own, then with the help of a naturopathic nutritionist. I was skeptical at first. And this was my last shot. But I knew I had to believe in this.

I knew HE would believe in this.

My Grandfather…gosh, what can I say about this man? Nothing bad for starters. He was perfect…I know that isn’t possible. I am sure he had flaws that my Grandmother or his children would admit to, but growing up I never heard them say anything bad about him…nothing.

His eyes twinkled with happiness. With pride. With optimism. He was just simply amazing…and I adored him.

I titled this blog for him because he would have been 95  this Sunday. And I know he would be proud.

I miss him terribly.

He was a huge advocate of eating healthy and taking vitamins.  He taught me so much. And now I am truly embracing something that I surely know would fascinate him.  I can see me telling him about what my doctor does, and what she believes…he would ask plenty of questions. And listen to all of what I told him. I never met someone who absolutely absorbed everything that someone said, like he did.

He would be proud of me yesterday.

And this is why…

I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s (finally) and Rheumatoid Arthritis a few months back. I have suffered in silence and out loud for years…joints aching , fingers not bending. Bloating, high blood pressure, endless back pain…the list was endless…

I started seeing a Rheumatologist when my General doctor said “I give up” too many possible Autoimmune disorders for her to handle.

I went for a follow up with my Rheumatologist yesterday after countless blood tests and x-rays months ago.

I had been dreading this day.

I saw the results…not all bad, but not great either. I went in with my “dukes” up.

I was going to refuse his prescriptions. I was not going to poison this cleaned out vessel with pills that had more warning labels on them than  a pack of cigarettes.

Oh so sweet to have a doctor lean back in his chair and look at all the symptoms I came in with months ago, and to then ask me how I am doing today…

and I  state that I am wonderful.

Occasional stiffness or pain, but the weight melted off…my blood pressure yesterday was its lowest in years.  He looked at me with a smirk and said-

 Hhmm… How did you do this?

After I explained, he said that he had no reason to put me on any toxic medicines that more than likely would counteract all my efforts and that it sounds as if the Rheumatoid Arthritis is not a problem for my body anymore.

re·mis·sion

(rĭ-mĭsh′ən)

n.

1. Abatement or subsiding of the symptoms of a disease.
2. The period during which the symptoms of a disease abate or subside

And to think of all those years I suffered. Of all those years in tears and being frustrated. And within a few months I literally changed my life.

he would be oh so proud of me. I know this to be true.

Lack Of Words.

Standard
Lack Of Words.

Is it possible to be speechless or wordless?

Especially for someone who enjoys writing a blog?

It has been ages since I could even fathom writing anything.

Not due to lack of topics…as we all know, there are plenty of things to write about as of late. Dare to turn on the news, and you will be slapped in the face by the most depressing, twisted news stories. Whether it is from a global view, or local view…it is all heartbreaking.

Rarely breathtaking…like literally so amazing or wonderful that it takes your breath away…nope.  It would only take your breath away due to a long deep gasp you might succumb to when watching TV news drama unfold.

But it isn’t just the news. The shows on television are either phony reality shows that serve no purpose other than to make people envious of how much money we don’t have, (compared to those reality stars who claim to be oozing diamonds and dollars from their pores that are sparkling clean from daily facials), or the countless murder mysteries and just plain creepy clown shows  that alternate every night and every popular channel.

This must be the reason why, when given the chance to actually turn on a show I might like, I just walk away with Disney blaring mindless canned laughter or watch half hour cooking contest shows while I clean or zone out on the computer trying to think of something to write, but instead get sucked into social media and news stories that make my head and heart hurt…

So I am obviously proving I haven’t a lack of words. I ACTUALLY have a lot to say. I have been watching myself though because I have learned in REAL life or on social media, that many hot topics can destroy friendships or cause hard feelings.

So we are keeping hot topic discussions in the house from now on( as I vaguely hint at things here)…the good old fashioned way…at the dinner table. We get our news and facts together when we can stomach to watch or read it…and debate it all every so often.

There really are no lack of words in our house, but it has felt unsafe to write my thoughts down on here. I have hurt and offended some, not deliberately, but because I thought my blog was a creative outlet to vent my frustrations or feelings…my modern open diary on days when I needed to get it all out.

I am learning to think before I speak…or type. I am learning that there will never be a lack of words or feelings or topics to discuss or write about, but I must choose those words carefully. I am learning that there are two sides to every story. If CNN makes me question something, check with Fox News…then I can go back to CNN with renewed faith that their word is gospel…just kidding…maybe.

And if in need of some boob tube time, nothing is better than a DVR full of commercial free movies or shows of our liking…and no clowns.

Tres Amigos

Image
Tres Amigos

Inseperable. That is what they were-three young boys who grew into men…a long time ago. A bond of brotherly love. Whether it was due to a shared love of the ocean or music or good times, it didn’t matter. The bond was there. They couldn’t have been more diffrrent from each other, one quiet and reserved,  one dark and looming, the other outgoing and optimistic.

Maybe that is what drew them together.  Bringing together balance. They didn’t see each other every day as they got older, but the love was still there.

Then it happened.

                                                                                                                                      The bond was broken.

The darkness for one was too much to bare…luring in even more darkness with drugs to numb the pain…until there was no more pain…or darkness…peace at last…but now what?

How can two people find that balance for each other when it took three to complete the circle? The circle was broken…oozing anger and hurt and despair of how to move on without one of them…

Life moved on…oddly and quietly at first.

One started life…marriage and babies and a home and happiness.

The other tried….tried and tried and tried so hard. That incomplete circle was reminding him of misery he couldn’t bare to face. That hole in his heart ached. It did for both, but one could mask any pain sent his way…the other…slowly began destroying himself from within. He masked his pain with booze, and smokes and bad relationships…

Even found marriage and a baby….and lost it all…because that circle was still oozing pain and fear and hurt.

These two stood briefly together again with hope that the circle was closing and the pain was so far in the past, that they couldn’t feel it anymore…one holding the other up and giving him strength and hope…

Was it enough?

Sadly, I don’t think so. I pray quietly that it is and will be enough to slowly have him rise above it. Not to let pain and suffering own him anymore.

There were three amigos…good times, smiles, and hope. Then there were two…and now, one will crumble without the other. Things in my mind happen for a reason. These two lost each other a long time ago, but not their brotherly love for each other…they came together again because they together will close that circle of pain and hurt…they will rise above this in honor of the one they lost…it has to be this way…it just has to.

Twins.

Standard
Twins.

I don’t have them.  My little sister does. She is blessed with twins. Identical twin girls…not so identical but enough to drive some of us mad trying to figure out which one is which.

They are five today. I am in shock at how quickly time has flown (seeing as I ignore that aging clock…my own children will be four forever) and the twins just started Kindergarten as well…good luck to their teacher!

They are Sweet and Sassy.  Bold and Spicy. Angel and Devil. Happy and Sad. Funny and Serious.

Whatever their mood or feeling, it never seems to be the same…maybe I am wrong…I am just the Aunt. I’m sure their parents could say differently!  But when I see them, it generally takes a second to figure out their differences…then place the name with the difference. If I had been their parent, I may have had to give them name tags for the first four years, then the fifth year would be the teacher’s job to worry who is who…not really, but I am still in awe at how their parents do it.

The girls may look the same, but their personalities have always been different…one seems quieter and more reserved…the other confident and chatty.  It is almost like a yin and yang situation…they balance each other as if they were a whole being that was split into two people…

Amazed. 

Knowing the many different types of twins is even more fascinating to me…how a boy and girl can look similar and were born at the same time yet…they are a BOY and GIRL.

Just another wonder of the world, intriguing, possibly spiritual in some way. I am thinking twins are a gift from God, or the universe or a higher power…I am sure some parents of twins may not see it that way, when dealing with double trouble toddler twins, but to have two people share so much just seems beyond our understanding of life and the universe.  I am certain someone could give a reasonable scientific explanation to the wonders of twins or triplets or just multiples in general.

I would like to think of my nieces as a little piece of heaven…they may be Wonder Twins at times- activating all sorts of twin powers on their siblings or parents (cutting their own hair, filling the kitchen floor with water from a hose, makeup makeovers). But these two little ladies are growing up fast with a bond I will never understand…I have a gift of watching them become their own person from the sidelines…not sure I could handle it day in and day out.. I give their family a big high five for getting through the first five years of life with these two sweetie pies…and wish them many more… Happy birthday to my nieces Fi and Bea<3

Vivid Memories.

Standard
Vivid Memories.

I was about six. Standing in a cold bathroom. Struggling to get my extremely tight-fitted shirt off my head. Tears stung my eyes. Where was my mommy or daddy to help me?

There was a knock at the door. My Kindergarten teacher’s wife was gently offering to help me with whatever it was that was holding me up. I said I was fine. Yet continued to struggle with this dumb shirt.

I was attempting to put on my witch costume for a play to perform for our families. One problem. My family wasn’t there.

I finally exited the bathroom with a disheveled costume and hair. The wife of my teacher whispered in my ear, “don’t worry…I will cheer and clap for you”…how did she know? That is what I cried and longed for….

To do this day,  I remember it as if it just happened. ..my forty-something year old eyes reliving that day through those six year old eyes…laying on the floor, peeking from under my black witch’s hat to see if the wife was really cheering and clapping for me.

She did.

My heart smiled.

That was over thirty years ago.

There are countless other vivid moments from my childhood and teen years and early adulthood that I can still feel and see…

Not sure why these things stick with me…I am certain other people share these types of memories…but why??

Is it the foundation of who we become as adults? Is it to test our strengths and weaknesses?  Is it all planned out by some higher power? Will these memories follow us into the afterlife…no matter what we believe in?

A sad moment with a family member, a serious talk with a friend, a romantic encounter…all little moments in our time threading together to our present.  To remind us maybe of who we were and who we are.

Quite possibly a life quilt of sorts…different shapes and sizes and colors. Some dark,  some vibrant. Sewn together to blanket us, make us feel safe and warm with who we have become…

I like my quilt…some days I feel like I could use another layer to protect me from the cold hard world I live in…other days,  I toss it aside. Jump up and claim this moment as mine…remembering who I am, holding back those dark moments, like my first ever school play, to enjoy the joyous day that lies before me.

quilts

Messes.

Standard
Messes.

UPDATE: Even almost two years later, I am STILL feeling this way…and life just got even crazier around here! Which is NOT helping in the mess department…oh well. I will get to it someday.

 

I am THAT Mom. I hate messes. I despise them actually. Toys, piles of papers, shoes, laundry, overflowing trash bins…it drives me almost mad…not there just yet…but VERY close.

My house is ALWAYS a mess, it seems.  I don’t think it bothers me so much because of what others may think, I think it is just truly and honestly ME…I get this fire in my belly about it.  Sometimes it unleashes itself to my husband and children, or sometimes I just run around the house mumbling under my breath about “how many stinking times will I pick up this toy” or shoe or sweatshirt…the list of objects is endless.

I grew up in a house with three sisters and a mother and stepfather. Our house was only clean on the weekends and “pre-party” as my sister calls it.  We kids did a majority of the cleaning, (which is ok since I want my kids to also learn how to keep their things neat and organized and clean…but I am still working on that), and huffing and puffing that we hated Saturdays and chore lists and could care less about folding clothes, weeding gardens and washing pots and pans.

Our kids/mess makers sound a lot like me and my sisters did. They are 17, almost 15(tomorrow, but who’s counting!), seven and two…so the array of chores/capabilities is vast and the assortment of things they leave behind in my little home is UNREAL.

How can someone be asked to put their shoes away that are laying in the MIDDLE of the floor, and only grab ONE?!

Or to clean the mountain of clothes strewn across the floor in the teenagers’ room, only to find the clothes shoved in the closet or overflowing drawers…

Or ” Hey, could load the dishwasher for me while I am making dinner?” thanks beautiful offspring of mine who is fully capable and intelligent enough to know that means EVERYTHING in the sink…and then WIPE and RINSE out the sink…task complete…no such luck. Remnants of food and God only knows what else still lay in the sink and all over the counter and floor around the dish loading area.

hoarding-tlc-615

NOT my actual kitchen, but how I am feeling when the kids clean the kitchen…

 

I am stalling right now, writing yet another post about something that may bring me bad karma for thinking/writing it, that these little and big messes are all around my feet, irritating me to no end…My Little Ponies under my desk, on my desk, under my chair. Puzzle pieces, cars, and more DVD’s than I can count are all over our family room, thanks to my two year old who thinks DVD’s are toys. I am avoiding the inevitable as my son naps…time for a “blitz” as I like to call it…tidy everything up just so I can sit back (did I just type the word sit?!) and look around at my cute little home and feel pride…

Not happening…

My kids- as much as I love them- irk me. They are not learning from me…the tireless job of mothering, or as they like to call it, nagging.  My job is to TEACH them life skills and nurture and love them (they are all getting a D this marking period from me).They tell me to make chore charts, (so I don’t need to nag) write it down, leave notes on their door…yeah right. I still have to nag about where the chore list went, or sticky note that said exactly what I needed done…commence nagging. I would do it all for them, really. I don’t mind cleaning, but it is the repetition of doing the SAME chores every single day, that are driving me batty.  So sharing the “wealth” helps keep me sane and is supposed to teach them some responsibility…supposedly…

So with a little more structure during this school year, I will be making a new chore chart, and doing my blitz momentarily, and then quite possibly having ten minutes to spare to sit back and enjoy the view…before they all come home again…

Chapped lips.

Standard
Chapped lips.

Oh Dear God…I am sitting here thinking, “oh yeah, I should blog”…but I am too irritated to think of what I feel like writing about.

MY LIPS.

They are driving me MAD…

After a long fun day at a family party, I decided to lay in my bed and relax…a luxury for me. I couldn’t wait. I snuggled with one of my daughters as she fell asleep, and then had a bite to eat and cocktail (served by my amazing husband).  So after I felt relaxed with a full belly and slight buzz, I wanted to write. I sat up and grabbed the laptop, and realized that something was not fully allowing me to focus.

MY LIPS.

God in heaven, make it stop.  I am not an openly religious person.  I usually pray quietly to myself everyday and occasionally at church.  This was one of those moments where I wanted to scream and yell how irritated I was.  But why???

I despise that name brand little stick that comes in black, blue, pink and quite possibly a dozen other flavors. It is addictive. And can quite possibly ruin a person’s day if they don’t carry it on their body at all times.  Like now, and the past fifteen minutes of torture( I have yet to get up to search for the little annoying tube to keep my creative juices flowing…otherwise, the story would be over by now).  I have no clue where that little bugger went.  I may have tossed it back in my pocketbook at the family party, due to lack of pockets in my dress pants. Mistake number one.

I applied it generously all day at the party-after meals, or drinks, or just because I felt that strange tingling sensation coming on that my lips were getting parched…again.

The only way to truly get through the day, is to carry it in your pocket for immediate relief.  Yet I am repeatedly blamed for not removing it from my pocket before washing the pants. Mistake number two.

I am not going to ramble on about the possible long list of mistakes one can make when addicted to said “lip balm” for chapped lips…I will say that I am ready to pounce out of my bed and run around the house like a crazy person until…yes…whew.  I found it…give me a sec… (generously applying it over and over to ensure relief)… It’s all good again in universe.

I am dedicating this blog to my daughter, Addison, who has more problems  than one could imagine with chapped lips.

Happy Thoughts!

Standard
Happy Thoughts!

 

 

Ahhh…the first day back to school! I am joyful!! I have two more kids to send back to school next week, and one still in diapers at home with me…I can do this!! I am slowly getting a creative vibe following in my veins again, and I am SO ready for it!

I adore all four of my amazing and beautiful children.  Even when they leave shoes in the middle of the floor or a crumb trail to the toy area and juice pouches stuck to any and every surface.  I love them when the giggle. Or when they are bickering for absolutely no real reason, or burping or farting.  It is unbelievable how they all seem to think this is still the funniest thing in the world!  I love them when they want to read bedtime stories and snuggle on school nights.

I love the structure of school.  Play, dinner, homework, baths, bed.  Collapse. Repeat. 180 times. Maybe squeeze in a date night or family gathering here and there. Collapse even harder. 

Maybe I am insane…school brings on a lot of additional stress to an already crazy day.  Parent meetings, sports, practice, clubs, dances, class trips…an endless list of FUN(insert sarcasm)!!!! I have been the only parent basking in the beautiful glow of school days! Possibly because my summer up to this point has entailed driving…and LOTS of it. I am officially a cabbie. Chauffeur. Driver. Personal assistant.

My family uses the revolving door that spins around me (and many days our two little ones)…constantly.  In and out. Dump and run.  And I stand here in an “on your mark” position with keys in hand and a pocketbook full of snacks, juice pouches and random small toys to entertain the little ones, as we depart yet again for another “joyous” day of carting teenagers to jobs, friends’ houses, sports, shopping…

My car looks like my “dump and run” house…books, crayons, goldfish strewn on the floor, seats and a random sticky substance usually on one of the cushions. The teens leaving remnants of a quick meal or snack and drinks and hairbrushes and makeup bags on the seats and floors…a constant cluttery mess.

But I love it.  I really do…I think.  I am told I will miss these days so badly it hurts. I will regret not stopping to enjoy all of the chaos. I will never get it back.

I am pretty certain we are all aware of this.  But am I inhuman to wish I could eat a meal from start to finish in a chair in my own home (date night is generally the time it is uninterrupted) or to want a half hour on the sofa watching some mindless show…or even to scan a magazine on my cute little wicker sofa on my cute front porch with a light ocean breeze, instead of a freezing doctor’s waiting room? I am not inhuman to feel this way.  I am human.  I think good things, and maybe a little much bad sometimes( that’s when I discovered blogging). And that’s ok. But the good stuff like first days of school, and movie night, and school dances or proms, and birthday parties or family gatherings, give me those moments to be able to appreciate all the hard work day in and out.

I am happy for another school year but will miss long summer nights and cookouts and beach days even though they were few and far between, but still they existed for me…I guess I am one lucky girl. I will make the most out of my car rides trying to talk to my quickly maturing teens and silliness with my little ones as they slip into boredom in the backseat.

I am in the middle of that revolving door.  I am that tetherball pole that stands firm to let the ball spin circles around me…but I am ok with that.  I am their rock and will remember this post as I get in the car again in ten minutes to pick up my daughter at work. I will smirk at the thought that she will be in school this time next week…they all will be…except for my little man.  It is his turn. He gets me all to himself to go to the playground or splash in his water table or cuddle and watch a movie…I am happy-so happy for this.  I was lucky enough to have this with all my babies…and I will enjoy every little moment I share with him.