I am unable to string together any coherent thoughts. I have so much stuff going on in my head that it probably looks like a Star Wars movie in there with all the neurons and synapses going into overload. I need to re-boot. Or get laid. I would prefer to hit my head on the headboard while getting laid. That should do the trick.
Prayers Answered Tuesday, May 29 2007
Uncategorized 5:13 pm
He has spoken. Kelly passed away yesterday.
Got a Miracle? Anybody? Thursday, May 24 2007
Uncategorized 11:01 pm
You know all those situations that come across your path that make you stop and think “man, life is short” or “thank God I am not dealing with that” or “how awful-what a nightmare” ? They seem to be coming into my life at a greater rate. Is this a symptom of getting older or is the universe trying to tell me something?
Here is the latest encounter: I volunteered to sit up with a casual aquaintance who is trying to fight a terminal illness. She cannot be left alone-she needs someone to look out for her. She has a 8 year old daughter. Her daughter is the same age as one of mine-they are friends. Volunteers were needed to sit with her-the family needed some help in that area. I am more than glad to do it. I think that is one of our most important tasks here on earth-meeting the needs of others.
I arrive at her room last night. She had a few visitors. And she is lying there just struggling to breathe. She is slowly but surely losing lung function. She has to use all her energy to just try and breathe. If she tries to utter one sentence it sends her in a tailspin of oxygen deficiency. Genetics are such a wicked mean trick of the universe. This could be me or you-just the right combination of DNA and you are screwed.
One of the visitors was a co-worker/former boyfriend. He is married to someone else now but there he stood by her bed reading out loud the birthday card he had got for her. It was a heart tugging thing to me.
After awhile the visitors are gone and it is just me, another friend, and Kelly. That is her name. She is resting-her eyes never opened the entire time I was there. To sit and watch her trying so hard to take another breath was agony-you want to be able to do it for her. All we could do was put another cool rag on her forehead and make sure she got her pain meds and other medication as soon as she could. That is all I could do for her.
It occured to me that God could take all this away in the blink of an eye. I KNOW He can but the part I struggle with is when He doesn’t. Have we not said the right words, prayed the right prayer? What does it take to get a miracle ?
It was her birthday. Kelly is 40 years old. She made it to 40. How about a little intervention Big Guy? Let her raise her child. Let her be a walking, talking, fine breathing example of Your infinite mercy and grace. Let her be a miracle. Amen.
The One That Just Rambles On About Nothing Wednesday, May 23 2007
The One About... 5:00 pm
Just a few things running through the head. Thought I would dump them here so I could free up some brain space for other activities.
- What should I make for tomorrow’s baby shower at work? I am thinking spinach dip.
- My new summer slip on sandals make a godawful sound when I walk in them. I may have to ditch them.
- Supper? I think making breakfast for supper is an EXCELLENT idea.
- I could inhale a bag of potato chips this very minute.
- Where is the cord for my battery charger?
- I have never watched “24″. Why? I enjoy Keifer Sutherland. Maybe I should try and get the DVD’s.
- Three day weekend coming up. Maybe I will finally conquer the laundry. Probably not.
- What did I do with my watch? No, not that one. The other one….
- Why doesn’t Mo want to take dancing lessons anymore? That child just is plain weird. In a good way but give me a break.
- I have to call my sister and tell her the totally snarky thing our cousin’s wife said the other day. We don’t care for her. She is just mean.
- It’s all about how you look isn’t it? Tell me the truth. You can be funny and smart and talented in all sorts of ways but if you look like Berta’s little sister you just ain’t gonna get no action.
- I miss Friends. I really really do.
- Maybe I should go buy a new pen at lunchtime.
Well, that frees up some space. Now on to the situation in the Middle East and what to do with gas prices.
Pens! Tuesday, May 22 2007
Uncategorized 9:13 pm
If you have browsed through a “Few things about me” you might have run across self confessed love for office supplies. Especially addictive is the pen. I love pens. I am partial to a black ink pen. And those gel pens! But my first love will always be the classic Bic. Cheap but oh so dependable.
The only quirk is I hate to write with a pen that does not have its cap. It seems unbalanced. It is like the ying with no yang. And for the love of all is holy, please don’t chew on my pen. It must remain free of bitemarks and intact.
Now I am fully aware that this is anal and somewhat not important in the whole scheme of things. In my little world the abuse of pens as a writing instrument ranks right up there with people that come to a complete stop in the MERGE lane. But that is a whole other post.
Decisions …Decisions Friday, May 18 2007
What a Whiner 9:58 pm
How do you make peace with a decision you did not want to make in the first place? Being a grownup sucks.
Mother’s Day 2007 Monday, May 14 2007
Uncategorized 8:42 pm
I hope all the mother type peoples had a nice Mother’s Day. I went to church where I got a prize for having the most children at church. I win something every single Mother’s Day. Youngest child-most children present-most children raised, and so on. I received a very nice suncatcher wind chimey thing this year. It is very pretty.
I tried to spend the rest of the day on the couch watching bad TV. But when you have 4 girls, there is always a drama brewing somewhere. So I dealt mother’s justice from the couch and tried to not to brood about how I think the day should have gone.
Homeade cards, hugs and kisses, and daughters just wanting to talk to their mom. That’s how it all went down. A blessing so undeserved and one I am thankful for. But would it be too much to ask for some chocolate?
The Chapstick Story Thursday, May 10 2007
Funnies 10:23 pm
THIS STORY MAKES ME “SNORT” LAUGH:
So, we had this great 10 year old cat named Jack who just recently died. Jack was a great cat and the kids would carry him around and sit on him and nothing ever bothered him. He used to hang out and nap all day long on this mat in our bathroom.Well we have 3 kids and at the time of this story they were 4 years old, 3 years old and 1 year old. The middle one is Eli. Eli really loves chapstick. LOVES it. He kept asking to use my chapstick and then losing it. So finally one day I showed him where in the bathroom I keep my chapstick and how he could use it whenever he wanted to but he needed to put it right back in the drawer when he was done.Last year on Mother’s Day, we were having the typical rush around and try to get ready for Church with everyone crying and carrying on. My two boys are fighting over the toy in the cereal box. I am trying to nurse my little one at the same time I am putting on my make-up. Everything is a mess and everyone has long forgotten that this is a wonderful day to honor me and the amazing job that is motherhood.We finally have the older one and the baby loaded in the car and I am looking for Eli. I have searched everywhere and I finally round the corner to go into the bathroom. And there was Eli. He was applying my chapstick very carefully to Jack’s . . . REAR END. Eli looked right into my eyes and said “chapped.” Now if you have a cat, you know that he is right–their little butts do look pretty chapped. And, frankly, Jack didn’t seem to mind.And the only question to really ask at that point was whether it was the FIRST time Eli had done that to the cat’s behind or the hundredth.MORAL OF THE STORY:No matter how hard we try to civilize these glorious little creatures, there will always be that day when you realize they’ve been using your chapstick on the cat’s butt.
I Know Tuesday, May 8 2007
Uncategorized 8:43 pm
Today on the Oprah Show: A Mother’s Nightmare Captured on Tape. I have seen this tape before. And it is heartbreaking. Domestic violence. It is ugly. It does not always mean physical abuse. Mental-emotional-verbal abuse-what ever you want to call it is just as damaging.
I have spoken to women who were physically abused. And they would share this: Sometimes they would rather get hit. They knew when it was coming and knew it would not last for long. The mouth can run for what seems like an eternity.
These wounds never really heal. They leave their uneraserable mark. There are scars-those seen and those not detectable to the human eye. Words can destroy. They have that much power.
Please don’t say things like “well, you should just leave” or “ there is no way I would put up with that shit.” I cannot stress to you how degrading that is to hear. Like we don’t know how weak we are for letting things get to this point.
If you are a mother-listen well. You teach your daughters how to do this. They will remember what you say but will take to their heart what they see you do.
Our minds know what is right. Our minds know what we need to do. We can read all the books, visit all the forums, visit all the therapists, pray and ask for deliverance. We know. But I never ever could explain it until I heard the phrase “prisons without bars.”
For some, it is a death sentence.
You wake up every day thinking “today is the day it is all going to be okay.” Today is the day that the man of your dreams will take the place of the monster of your nightmares. Until one day you wake up and say “No, this is never going to happen. It will never be okay. This has to end.”
And so you start the long and painful journey to get to a better place. This may take years. To work up the courage to take back your dignity and self respect. To gather information on the safest way to get this done. To try and minimize the impact of the fallout on your children.
Some people let us know right away what asshats they are. No hiding it. But far more often the danger is hidden. We are young and naive. And have no self awareness. We think for years that we are the problem. If we could just cook, clean, love, talk, walk the right way that maybe he would not get so mad. We could be happy then. But as the years go by and the abuse escalates, you wake up to the realization that it is not me. I am being abused.
The depression sets in. How could I let this happen? Why did I let someone do this to me? Why didn’t I know? You want to crawl into bed and never get out. But that becomes just one more thing to get hit with. “I knew you had mental issues but I married you anyway.” Everything and I mean everything becomes fuel for the fire. I do not exaggerate. I was once called on the cell phone and berated for not waving to him when I met him in the road one morning. The examples are endless and daily.
You struggle between exhaustion at the burden you already carry and trying to find the energy to get out. Brief moments of clarity-I am going, I will not let anything hold me back. But then reality hits you in the face. Financial and safety concerns. Struggling with issues of faith and God. IT IS NOT JUST A MATTER OF WALKING OUT THE DOOR. (Note: The Oprah thing makes a very important point: Their are risks associated with EVERY DECISION an abused woman makes.)
When the abuser knows that all is holding you to him is your children, he will threaten you with losing your children. They are the only thing he has left to hurt you. Everything else has been lost. There is no love nor tender feelings. You educated yourself-made trips to the lawyer for assurance-talked to those who are willing to hear the ugliness of it all-and know that there is no way the custody of those children will be given to him. But you could be the one that it all goes horribly wrong for. You could be the Lifetime Movie of the Week. You could lose your children. Just consider that when you judge me and the others like me.
It is the walking nightmare. I know.
Just For Me Tuesday, May 8 2007
Uncategorized 7:41 pm
Reasons I Got Me One of Them Thar Blogs:
- I seemed like a really cool thing and fun thing to do.
- I wanted to have a place of my own so others could visit me. Like the way that I visit them. Obsessively and compulsively several times a day.
- I could just write it out. Whatever was bottled up inside of me could find a way out.
- I would have a way to look back at where I had been.
- I could share my wit and charm with others. I am one of the coolest people I know. **wink, wink, nudge, nudge* THAT IS A JOKE PEOPLE.
This is not as easy at it looks. How much do you share? What are things you don’t share? Why doesn’t anyone visit? And do I really want anyone to know me like that?
Why is this so frikkin hard?
