A Promise Made To A Broken Heart

We were having a wonderful evening. Everyone was on the mend and we decided to go out for dinner, a feat seldom accomplished. On the way home, our conversation turned to flatulence. I mean, what else were you expecting! CEP began to laugh and mentioned a time I took his picture in a cornfield at sunset as he was doing..well, I promised to never talk about it again, but he was doing his business. Ok, that was the last time I will ever mention it. No, it wasn't some weird sicko pic, it was just a profile of his face. The way the sun hit this hair was almost magical. You never know when you will see inspiration...this one just happened to occur on a road side potty break. We all laughed about the memory and then the wailing began. He began to scream that I was making fun of him. "Why, mommy?" "Why would you make fun of me?" The wailing continued until we got home...I turned up the radio to drown out the sobs. After "family counsel hour" where CEP told me he didn't think he could forgive me and that he was going to cry every day until he died about this incident, I told him that we had dedicated enough time out of the evening to this subject. I was sorry and asked for his forgiveness. He hugged me and said he was okay. We got on our pj's and turned on a movie to end the day. CEP turned around with tears rolling down his cheeks and said, "Momma, I promise to never make fun of you either until the day I die." "I promise you the same thing, CEP." That was a promise I made to a broken heart.

Let's Just Say...

Let's just say it has been a rough week. It all started on Friday with an long day up in Ann Arbor at the Neurological Pain Institute to have some tests run and meet some new docs. All went as planned and I came home with a brand new regimen and a slew of new meds to try out. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it all works out for the best. I go back next month for additional tests and off I go..into the never ending world as a medical guinea pig.

The Hubby left for Germany on Saturday. I was fortunate that my Mom-in-law was here to watch the kiddos so I could go to the mad scientist on my own on Friday. We all woke up and made it to church. It was half way through the service somewhere between "thank you Jesus" and the lesson on tithing that I began to get this strange feeling in my eyes. They began to ache and later that evening I broke out with a high fever and aches. The next morning I thought karma had come back to haunt me(was it when I wished a bad digestion day on the rude check out girl). I called The Hubby who informed me he wasn't feeling well either. I just thought he had a bad piece of schnitzel(I told him veggie was the way to live). As I sat like a freak of nature in the waiting room of the doctor, I could feel the stares coming my way. I did look a little rough. The other patients probably thought I was violently hung-over rather than just suffering from an undiagnosed illness. After performing a flu and strep test, the nice doc(with face covered with a white surgical mask..so much for making me feel at home) told me I tested positive for both the flu and strep. I just laid my body on the examining table and waiting for the scripts. After leaving the pharmacy with the meds from the Pain Institute and my local doc, I have certainly done my part to help the economy recover...I'll accept my thank you later, Mr. President.

The computer broke last week, so I have been confined to bed with the slow, yet invaluable help of the Blackberry. I have had to cancel commitments I had made earlier and while some have been very understanding, some have been annoyed. I am sorry I cancelled on you, but I thought I would be doing you favor by not spreading my germs. Trust me, three kids, a travelling husband and a sick wife is not a good combination. My lovely Mom-in-law has picked up the slack and I think I have slept more than I have in years. For now, I am on the road to recovery. The computer is now fixed, the meds are beginning to go into effect and I am now hoping The Hubby doesn't come home smelling like kraut. I'm back...yipppeee!

This Girl

No matter what kind of day I am having...this girl, makes everything so much brighter

I Heart Mr.Yuck

I had a flashback to my childhood today. It was a nice flashback...brief, yet memorable & came in the form of a poison control sticker. This was after a horrible attempt of being a "engaged mom". Today I accompanied CEP's kindergarten class to the local market. I pretty much am room mom, financing partner, party planner, substitute teacher, guidance counselor, etc to this class. I guess saying that I put a lot of time and effort into this class would be an understatement. I enjoy it, yet I am almost "guilted" into doing it because no other parents help out. I have discussed it at length with The Hubby and have decided that we are not willing to let CEP miss out on some great activities and adventures that the teacher provides just because other families aren't willing to pull their own weight. I don't mind fully funding these activities, but I do have a problem when I see these same parents buying cigarettes and lottery tix at the corner market.(i'm not judging....really!) I also have a problem when all your child sees and hears at home is crude and vulgar things and then they bring that behavior & language into the classroom and expose all the other children to it. I understand that my kids have and will hear things that they probably shouldn't...that's life, yet when I am sitting in front of your child and he turns to my son and tells him to (insert a highly inappropriate and lewd act here) I do have a problem with parents. A big one. First of all, what five year old even knows that statement and what that term even means. I was livid....and ended up having to file a statement with the office. This same boy has called me names you couldn't imagine, and even tried to bite off my finger at the V-tines party. (it really would have hurt if he had...he has a full "grille" on his lower teeth) I really feel sorry for this child, but I am still angry! So, when CEP came home from school, he handed me the bag of goodies they were given at the market. Included in the bag was a sheet of Mr. Yuck stickers. I haven't seen these stickers since I was little. CEP promptly noted that after the day he had today, he thought this little boy needed a Mr. Yuck sticker on his shirt. I whole heartedly agree...he's only five...I can still pick his friends.

Pack Your Bags

Pack your bags...we're moving to California!! Ok, maybe not, but if lady luck is on my side, we will be. This is the eleventh year I have entered HGTV's DreamHome Giveaway. Let's see, that makes over four hundred times I have entered my info in order to win. I used to be ready just in case they rang my doorbell with flowers and well wishes. You have to look good, if they are going to appear at my door. Must have on mascara and lipstick. Hair must be freshly coiffed, and I always had on a bra. They never came. Instead, changing the order of event by announcing three finalist to fly out to the studios for a fake key turning ceremony. Only three more days are left to enter. I thought this was an appropriate amount of time to blog about it...I couldn't have you all clicking over to their website to enter daily, thus lessening my chances of moving to Cali!

On This V-Tines Day

And he answered, "YOU SHALL LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND WITH ALL YOUR SOUL, AND WITH ALL YOUR STRENGTH, AND WITH ALL YOUR MIND; AND YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF." Luke 10:27

What's Mine Is Not Yours...

My Dearest Kiddos,
I felt it necessary as your crazy momma to inform you that the antics that have been going on in our home cannot be ignored any longer. Somewhere between the time you were born and your current age, you seemed to have gotten this crazy idea that what is Momma's is also yours. This is not true! There are things that belong to myself, or to our family unit as a whole, that you cannot destroy. This includes using permanent markers, scissors, and body parts to deface the goods in our home. I truly enjoy seeing your doodles, drawings, and attempts at cursive, but please doodle away in the many notebooks you own, not on my calendar or checks. You know I encourage your artistic side and the fact that you picked up the trick I taught you(printing the word boy & then using lines to create an actual picture of a boy out of the word), but please use the chalkboard and not your nightstand. Each one of you were given wonderful family names, but they look nice written at the top of your homework page and not on my antique Chinese chest that your grandparents gave me on my sweet sixteen birthday. I guess maybe your momma should change her tune and smile each time I find a new "gift" that you have left. Maybe you are claiming the items as your own for when your father and I pass on. Regardless, I love your doodles, drawings, handwriting and names....especially when they are in your notebooks.
Love Always,
Mommy
btw...we are having broccoli and squash for dinner :) Spring cleaning for our colons!

Meet My Friend

Meet my friend, Sunny. I met Sunny last summer when I first moved to this new town. I went with a new friend I had met to a summer swim party and Sunny was there with her little boy Izek. Throughout the afternoon we had a chance to talk and I found her to be so kind, funny and engaging. I immediately suggested we meet up for coffee in order to get to know one another more. Schedules became very busy and plans that were once made had to cancelled for one reason or another. We would catch up when we would get together for one thing or another but for some reason I felt myself drawn to her eagerness and zest for life. I recently found out that after having some medical tests done, that Sunny has developed MS. When I first heard the news, I turned to The Hubby and just cried. I am aware of the symptoms of MS and I once again began to question how something like this could happen to such an energetic and wonderful young woman. Her symptoms first appeared when she was pregnant with Izek about three years ago. They went away and then resurfaced in January of this year. In her online journal, Sunny writes the following about why she is raising money for this cause.
"I'm a mother...to Izek...and hopefully to more children one day. I want to be able to hold them and play with them and do all the fun & active things that parents should be able to do with their kids. I know that one day I might lose the ability to do this and it scares me...to death. I still feel invisible...like nothing bad could ever happen to me...not to me..maybe to this person or that person, but not to me. But I'm not..I know this now, although I still haven't accepted the reality of the situation. But for now, I live every day to the fullest."
In knowing Sunny before this disease began to affect her life, I still see the same person. Only now she is also juggling treatment options and medications as she tries to maintain a sense or normalcy. She is currently in Germany visiting a center that helps patients heal spiritually and physically. I knew she still had her sense of humor when she asked me in an email if my addiction to coke had been cured. If all my friends troubles and stresses went away, I wouldn't need the caffeine, I told her. I have introduced you to my friend Sunny, who hopefully will be a lifelong friend. Which one of you friends will you call today and tell them that you love them?

Women

"WOMEN OF GOD CAN NEVER BE LIKE WOMEN OF THE WORLD. THE WORLD HAS ENOUGH WOMEN WHO ARE TOUGH; WE NEED WOMEN WHO ARE TENDER. THERE ARE ENOUGH WOMEN WHO ARE COARSE; WE NEED WOMEN WHO ARE KIND. THERE ARE ENOUGH WOMEN WHO ARE RUDE; WE NEED WOMEN WHO ARE REFINED. WE HAVE ENOUGH WOMEN OF FAME AND FORTUNE; WE NEED MORE WOMEN OF FAITH. WE HAVE ENOUGH GREED; WE NEED MORE GOODNESS. WE HAVE ENOUGH VANITY; WE NEED MORE VIRTUE. WE HAVE ENOUGH POPULARITY; WE NEED MORE PURITY."
~MARGARET NADAULD

Where are you, yadda?

The economy is yadda, yadda. We must pass this stimulus yadda, yadda! Please, if you are going to put yourself in front of a camera to debate, use correct grammar. Ending sentences with prepositions makes my skin crawl!

No Credit Cards=Boring Posts

They're gone. I actually gave them away. The Hubby is now in possession of the credit cards. I have found that the majority of the bizarre, yet entertaining happenings of my day occur when I am out and about making unnecessary purchases on the cards. I guess that is why there hasn't been much activity on the blog. Really, it is more of a relief than anything. That $19 dollar shirt on the clearance rack at Target eventually cost $39 after I finally take the tags off and pay for it. The cards were stolen twice last year. Once they paid for doctor visits and food from a market in upstate NY that I couldn't even pronounce. The other time, they somehow got the card number from my PayPal account off eBay. Did they think I really wanted to pay for their baby's medications? I just dropped a couple hundred yesterday for my own sick kids breathing meds. The nerve!!! I have now begun the cash/envelope system. It is going to be a rude awakening, but I think I good one. When I sat down and did the budget, I began to realize just how much I spent on "stuff" without even thinking about it. When you open the mail to find out how the 401K has gone "adios", it really puts things into perspective. I guess now that I am running around less, it will open up countless hours for me to do other things with my time. Exercise? I think not. Clean? Who am I kidding. Facebook? A waste of time addiction. Maybe it's time to put some of those New Years Resolutions to work....ugh, that means I due to shave my legs!

P.S. I big Holy Cow shout out to my sis, who is off the Diet Coke. Day three is one of the toughest, but you are doing a great job. 22 years of having one every single day is a hard habit to break. She is ON the wagon, unfortunately, I fell OFF. I can only do one habit at a time. Credit cards OFF, Diet Coke ON. I'm proud of you sis!! xoxo

Paintbrushes

There they sat in a box. A box that I had not opened since I moved out of my parents home and into my first home with my brand new husband. You know the box, the one that holds all of your memoirs and pictures. The box that your parents try and get you to take home and store in your own basement rather than theirs. I hadn't even attempted to open the box until this weekend. My parents came for a visit and that meant cleaning out the storage room. The box was there filled with old pictures, artwork that I had done as a child that could pass for my own children's, my diary where I spoke of being scared to ride the school bus. The box also held yearbooks and love letters The Hubby sent me while in Sumatra when he was only The Boyfriend. At the bottom of the box sat the paintbrushes and an old Degas collage I had done with my great Aunt Margaret. The brushes were in a long, rectangular box wrapped up in brittle paper that showed a frustrated artists attempt at a still-life. I hadn't seen those paintbrushes for years. The same paintbrushes that my aunt held in her hands as she painted in the gardens belonging to Monet, or the beaches of the east coast. Those brushes traveled across the world, helping to express her talent and love of art. She had hoped I would pick up the talent of watercolor. She made it seem so easy, the opposite of the truth. The colors often run together as one goes back to fix and redo what they had first put down on the paper. The beautiful colors become a muddy stain on the paper. Along with the paintbrushes I found a photocopy of an article that she had sent me from 1986. I was eleven years old. It read:
On Reaching Perfection
"Hurry ruins saints as well as artists. They want quick success and they are in such haste to get it that they cannot take time to be true to themselves. And when the madness is upon them they argue that their very haste is a species of integrity...How do you expect to arrive at your own journey if you take the road to another mans city? How do you expect to reach your own perfection by leadings someone else's life? It takes heroic humility to be yourself and to be nobody but the man, or the artist, that God intended you to be.
-Thomas Merton
How I wish my Aunt Margaret was still alive to this day so that I could discuss this with her. It seems so many people don't realize the wisdom and grace of those who are right in front of them. I encourage you to find that person, sit down with them and hear their thoughts on life and love. You may be surprised to find that we all are striving for one common goal. I was beautifully reminded of this by a box of watercolor paintbrushes...lucky me. Many blessing