Blindsided

It's easy to blog about most of the things I choose to write about here on these pages. Funny things the kids have done or said, recording memories (good and bad) of our day-to-day life as a family of five as a digital scrapbook, recalling and remembering tidbits of my childhood in an effort to bring the special loves of my past to life for my kids, party planning and recipe tips - you know. You read it.

It's not easy to blog about the hard times. My friend Kathy calls the hard posts on her blog "The Ugly Truth" – and I suppose that is what this post essentially is.

Ugly. True.

I'm a planner. I think I've covered that on this blog – and anyone who knows me knows I like things to be organized. My desk at work. My pocketbook. My calendar. I like to know where everything is. What to plan for. What to expect.

I'm not big on surprises, in fact, I hate them. I suppose the occasional unannounced call from a friend or note in the mail is a welcome surprise, but across the board, I like to know what is coming. Good or bad.

Earlier this week, something happened that shocked me to my core. I can't (or rather, won't) publically elaborate on the details – I'll just say that the events rattled me. Blindsided me. Gave me pause. Hurt me in a place, deep down, that I didn't know could be hurt. Made me think twice about my place in this world, about the people I trust, about how willingly I let them into my life, and ultimately, how I let them go.

See, people have come to think I'm this strong person. I can handle anything. They don't know how I "do it all."

I don't either.

They think that because I have a smile on my face and I'm not constantly falling apart and dissolving into tears that I'm strong, that I have it all "together."

Wanna know a secret?

I don't.

Through all of the crap that's come down the pipeline in the past few years, well, let's just say I've not dealt with it well. Rather, I've learned how to hide it. Apparently very well. So far, my method has worked. I seemingly have come out of it with all of my vices. I don't dwell on the drama (or trauma, as the case may be). I try not to think about all that has happened since the summer of 2005, because if I do, the bottom starts to fall out and I can't let that happen.

I can't.

But just so you know the junk I've got constantly mulling around and around in my head - in four and a half years I've sat by my father's bedside and witnessed his last breath, I held my mother's hand following her brain surgery, begging and pleading with her to just open her eyes and have some glimmer of recognition – when she looked disturbingly like someone I'd never met with all of the scars and bandages and tubes – and then had to leave her – to walk away from my mom to return to my home here on the other end of the continent, I've learned how to live my life and be a mother myself to three little lives in the absence of my mom's ability to mother me (and grandmother her children), I've miscarried two babies, I've weathered financial storms with my husband – when there were days when we weren't sure how we were going to pay the mortgage, the rising daycare bill, and feed our kids, I've been deeply hurt by friends who I thought I could trust, only to see them for the fickle selves they truly are, I've not slept a full night's sleep in about five years due to said three kids, various illnesses of theirs and my own, I've juggled working at a stressful job (that most of the time I love) while trying to be the best mom and wife I can be, and I've struggled to find the balance between not losing myself and my identity and solely living for everyone else.

I learned how to deal with all of that. I've had to – I haven't had a choice. It's life. And I'm pretty darn proud that I haven't ended up in the loony bin or heavily medicated just to get through my "normal" day. I've learned how to compartmentalize. Put things aside. Stick them on a shelf in a box and when I have time and am ready – take the box down, sort through the emotions, have a big fat cry, and move on.

But this recent news? Well, it questioned all of that.

Took my breath away. Literally.

Because I seriously can't handle any more. The box is full. There is no more room to deal with anything else. I can't stuff anything else inside.

I don't know where to begin to deal with this junk (for lack of a better term) – because I can't stick all of the emotions and hurt and accusations and drama into my tidy little box. I can't sweep it under a rug, and I can't simply ignore it.

I'm lost.

So after the dust settles and I pick my jaw up off the floor – I guess I'll do what I always do – brush myself off, focus on my kids, my husband, my mom, my family. Put on that pretense of being strong, and maybe – just maybe – in time, it will become true.

And the rest can fall where it will.

Because in the end, I know that I've given all that I can give. And that's all that really matters. And that's all that anyone can ask.

 

 

Wacky Wednesday

Dr. Seuss week continues for Anna's class.

Wacky Wednesday is the theme for today.

Anna picked out her own outfit today - good thing the theme was mis-matched clothes.

Pink striped pajama pants.

Hot pink sparkly t-shirt.

Blue and yellow floral dress.

My fashionista.

Mommy Advice

Okay all you mommy readers - I'm in need of some mommy advice. The topic? Getting your 10 month old to eat something other than baby food. Thin baby food, that is.

Jack is a big eater. Big. He downs at least two packages of Stage 2 baby food and a healthy serving of rice cereal or oatmeal with every meal. Sometimes three packages. He loves to eat - opens his little mouth big and wide in anticipation of the food heading its way.

So it seemed natural that once he reached the fully sitting and crawling stage he'd want to eat the typical first foods the other kids enjoyed (cheerios, puffs, small bits of soft cooked veggies or soft fruits.)

Nope.

Apparently our sweet baby boy has a horrible gag reflex. Stick a cheerio or puff in his mouth and the second it touches his tongue - he starts gagging and retching - and eventually brings up whatever meal of baby food he's just enjoyed.

The same is true for thicker baby foods (read: Beech-Nut's corn casserole) or non-baby food pureed foods, such as applesauce.

I find it very interesting (albeit frustrating) because he's constantly sticking every toy, book, crayon, scrap of paper he can find from the floor into his mouth - but refuses real food.

I know eventually he'll get the hang of it - but for now, I'm tired of seeing him gag on bits of food and turning them into a game of 'bat the food around the high-chair tray' or 'toss the food on the floor.'

Any tips would be greatly appreciated.

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss

Dr. Seuss's birthday is a big deal around these parts - as I suspect many parts of the world. We pause to recognize the author of so many wonderful childrens stories and poems - words that bring images to life and in doing so, bring back comforting memories to adults and children alike.

I hope my kids grow up loving and appreciating the Dr. Seuss stories as much as I did (and still do.) It was certainly a happy day when I had an excuse to dig out my worn and tattered copies of "One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish," "Hop on Pop," and "To Think That It Happened On Mullberry Street" to read to the kids.

Of course, I have been reading Dr. Seuss to them - even before they were born - including the in utero book - which I can't remember the title to right now to save my life.

Anyway, back to the present... all of the kids' classes at the Children's Center have had a Dr. Seuss focus for the past week. Sadly Anna had to miss a lot of hers due to her convalescent period at home - but we are very thankful that the theme is being carried over into next week - and that she was able to attend her classroom Dr. Seuss Birthday Party.

So her triumphant return to school on Friday just happened to be the day she could dress up as her favorite Dr. Seuss character.

Which character you ask?

Why, little "Cindy Lou Who" of course.

Anna was thrilled to have a hair-do right out of Who-ville - which I was more than happy to oblige.

Thank You

Thank you to all our friends and family for the thoughtful wishes and prayers throughout Anna's recovery. I'm happy to say she recovered in record time - and by the end of the day Thursday was pretty much climbing the walls - ready to get out of the house and resume her normal activities.

A few special thanks - Logan, Brian, and the girls - thank you so much for the lovely flowers. They not only made Anna's day (I think this is the first time a floral delivery had been made especially for her) but they brighten our home. Anna is working on her very own thank you note - to tell you how much she loves them and how special they make her feel.

To Juli - thank you for bringing over the ballerina paper dolls - Anna LOVES them - and they certainly helped her get through her captivity.

I think our little girl is fully on the mend - and the surgery was indeed a much needed success.

Read: no more snoring.

Home, Safe and Sound

This picture was taken prior to surgery - when Anna had little to no idea of what was to come...

Anna's surgery was a success! The ENT was very glad we'd had the surgery for Anna - turns out her adenoids were quite enlarged and "chunky" (whatever that means, nothing good I presume). He said once the initial swelling from the procedure has gone down her overall breathing should significantly improve - and her nighttime snoring should significantly lessen.

I won't lie - those 20 minutes from the time she left in the arms of Bobo (the anesthesiologist - I swear - that was his real name) until they called me back to the recovery room were probably the 20 longest minutes of my life. I hadn't fully understood the procedure until this morning - that she would in fact be intubated and have an IV in place - somehow I'd missed that in all of the pre-op hustle and bustle...

And of course, she wouldn't be my child if she came out of anesthesia well - there was a lot of crying, pulling at her arm to try and get the IV out, screaming, and general incoherent babble - but once the Demoral kicked in and she was not in horrible discomfort, she was able to relax, sleep off more of the meds, and finally come home.

And of course, she waited to barf up the big bubble of blood tinged mucous until we were safely home and tucked in on the couch - but seemed to perk up a lot after she got that out of her system.

She's slept on and off this afternoon - and is currently propped up on the newly cleaned and towel draped sofa, watching the Wonder Pets, having just polished off her THIRD bowl of chocolate ice cream.

Apparently surgery has its benefits.

The biggest complaint so far has been the occasional (and painful) ear popping as her ears adjust to the pressure from surgery and having tubes in place. I haven't broken it to her yet that we have to do ear drops.

I'm saving that fun for Deonne.

Because I'm the one that got to clean up the bloody barf.

But thanks to all for your thoughts and well wishes - this scary and anxious day has turned out quite well, and I have every hope that the recovery will quickly continue.

Prayers

I covet your prayers today - for Anna - to have a safe surgery, rapid healing, and as little pain and discomfort as possible.

For Dr. Macy - for his skilled hands and knowledgable heart - to succesfully remove Anna's adenoids and place tubes in her ears in a safe and quick manner.

For Deonne and I - as we hold our breath when she is wheeled away from us, behind the mythical swinging doors into the netherworld of the operating room - and we wait anxiously for her safe return to our arms.