When Life Kicks You in the Butt- Run and Hide

4 Tips to A Better State of Gratitude - 

What? Me? Give Tips? Ha! You're on the Wrong Blog :-)

Baby Blueberry and Oscar

Meet Oscar. He's a friendship turtle. Actually, I think he's a Western painted turtle. Here is a photo of his colorful underside. Tattoo lovers be like jelly- this guy is born with ink. 

He came to us from some very dear friends that were moving overseas and couldn't take him. So one crisp autumn night, they bring him over, along with his tank, and some containers full of misc. turtle requirements. I did not know one small reptile needed so much stuff. How would I ever remember the instructions on how to care for him?

But for being simply a turtle- ha, he's more than a turtle, this guy has personality, as my friend says, "like a t-rex with a shell"- he has his way of communicating. Like when he's hungry- he does this when I get close to his tank.

Back and forth he swims in his tank until we pay attention to him. My friend fed him in a dog dish, so his tank would stay cleaner - longer, and so since I'm all for time-saving cleaning ideas- I kept up with the idea. We put him in a dog dish- ahh, a turtle feeding dish- and give him shrimp. We also bought night crawlers for him, which he thinks are the tastiest critters to feast on. The worms disagree with his opinion. Greatly disagree and it's difficult for this soft-hearted gal to feed him living worms.

 Later this week I will write a blog about how the cute and ahh- not cuddly- but friendly Oscar  turns into a cold-blooded killer turtle when fed a worm. 

But for right now, I did promise 4 tips, so I've better write some sappy stuff this morning. 

1. God has a tendency to speak to us, even if it's not through a burning bush. Although, a talking, burning bush would be cool- I would probably grab the hose and dose the flames before listening to any message. It's a safety thing. But here's the story...next month I lose disability, which cuts our income by quite a bit. Perhaps our house payment. Ouch. I was feeling a bit upset by this and worried and generally just stressed beyond belief. When Hero Hottie reminded me I should be feeling grateful.

       "Uhh, how much wine have you been drinking, honey?" I was getting ready to take Bean to her early morning dance class, so of course Hero Hottie had not been drinking but still I had to wonder.

       "None. No, we should feel grateful." He looked dead serious. My honey, who is more cynic than positive, more bitter than sweet, more doubting than faithful- was telling me to be grateful over a significant lost of income. 

       "Okay, I give up. Please explain." Where was that wine? 

        "We found out before I get my yearly bonus. Now we have a plan. We use the yearly bonus to pay most of the house payment for the year. If we had found out after my bonus, we probably would have spent it and then we wouldn't have that money for the house payment. God let us know in perfect timing to save our asses." 

       Simple. (And also, this plan allows the girls to keep their dance classes, which is so important to them.)

       I know we would have spent it. I had plans to find myself a beach and camp out for two weeks. Without moving. Except maybe my toes in the sand. 

Alright, I probably wouldn't even had done that- I would have paid off Abu's braces. But still, we would have spent it.

    

        Instead we had money for our house payment without me having to rush out and trying to work full-time, even though my Crohn's is seriously screwed up right now. 

     But just to drive the point home, when I stopped at the store after dropping Bean after and my mind was still trying to wrap itself around the concept of gratitude, the car in front of me had a speciality license plate- and it read 'gratful'   Good one, God. - good one.

    

2. I just found out my Grandma's cancer has spread and she has limited time. Months. And there is unfairness to that. I can't be grateful for such limited time left, because it's not enough time. - I will never feel like it's enough time. -  But knowing time is precious, that can be viewed as a gift and one I don't plan on wasting. Other things will wait, time with Grandma won't.

3. So the basement is desperately trying to kick Hero Hottie and me in the ass. Seriously. If you knew us and our record for completing house repair projects. Well, lets say we're really good at having BIG IDEAS and DREAMS and not so good at knowing how to implement the plan. The beginning is easy- the end will look great and somehow we don't know how to travel the journey. So when the basement was destroyed and Hero Hottie decided to take on most of the work himself, I was filled with misgivings. Serious misgivings. But being the supportive wife that I am, and knowing it would look AWESOME if we finished, I jumped in. (That and I have a tendency to dream big too, it's why Hero Hottie and I get along so well.) Plus, we eventually finished our kitchen (over a year) and it was AWESOME. 

     "Honey, we need to think like our old neighbor, "Finish it like P." I said, referring to an old neighbor that seem to finish projects like magic. That guy knew what he was doing and accomplished it, in half the time a normal human being would take. I admired him greatly. 

     He laughed, as he measured the torn apart bathroom. "Okay." 

     Hero Hottie had taken a week off to get ahead of the projects looming downstairs and it was day one.

   And we accomplished...nearly nothing. 

   Why couldn't we be like P? We had gone downstairs with a lot of energy, plans and a gung-ho attitude and every time we turned around something wasn't measuring right, or we didn't have the correct tool, or we didn't know what the next step should be. 

   We should have just hired someone. 

   The next day, I told Hero Hottie again. "We need to approach this like P. If we do that we'll be done by the end of the week." 

   He frowned at me. Yesterday had not gone well and I don't think my cheerleading comments were helping. 

    I started painting, trying to go as quick as I could, which resulted in a bunch of spilled paint- on the floor, on me- drips down the side of the wall. This was stressful trying to be like P. 

   I felt my jaw clenched, as I looked at the time every half an hour, trying to push myself. Spilling more paint.

   Finally, it hit me. 

   What was I doing? 

   I wasn't P. I was me. Which meant, I was not going to succeed at this basement if I kept trying to do things like someone else. And perhaps, Hero Hottie was seeing my comments, which were meant to be encouraging and 'you can do it' as a comparison. And he wasn't P either. 

   If we were going to finish this basement, we would have to do in our own way. Carefully. Perhaps slowly because we were learning as we went, but we could finish it and before our girls moved out. 

    We just had to be ourselves. Or at least better versions of ourselves. 

   The rest of the week went much better. We had the plumber in to fix the shower drain, something we couldn't do. Hero Hottie framed the new shower stall. And with help from my mother in law, we painted until our fingers were numb. 

     Not completed, but we accomplished a lot. So be grateful for yourself, it doesn't mean you can't improve yourself- be a better version of who you are- but don't try to be someone else. It just results in spilled paint and frowns from your honey. 

4. Friends. I can't say enough about great friends. And technology, because right now without technology my great and wonderful friends would seem so far away. But with the magic of floating, invisible bits of info, I can communicate with them in an instant. (Perhaps I'm crazy but has anyone sent a text message and then stared at the air, wondering how your thoughts looked when they were being sent to the next tower of communication? And how many thoughts do we walk through every day?)

How cool is that? Because I'm starting to realize that with faith we're suppose to depend on God, but I think he blessed us with friends to make that journey easier.

Gibson and Blueberry know the value of true friendship

Happy Tuesday to my readers. Now go out and find your gratitude. Because it's somewhere between lessons learned hard and our messy mistakes of human-ness. And it can usually be found hanging out with grace and forgiveness.

When You Don't Even Have Time For Your Life to Flash Before Your Eyes

Or How Many Thoughts Can Actually Occur in the 

Time It Takes for Your Minivan to be Totaled

Gratitude. Yep, that's the emotion I feel when I look at this mangled mess of my minivan. And not just a light dusting of the stuff - of gratitude. No, I feel a deep expansion of it in my chest, pressing on my breath and forcing me to take a deep breath- of gratitude. 

Not for the wrecked vehicle. The amount of problems that has caused me is just one more headache in my life lately, especially when I'm down to half a house still, I'm experiencing a major Crohn's flare-up and my income is wacky.

Being down half a house can be frustrating like the girls are living in the 'dorm room'- which is all their mattresses on the bedroom floor. Half the time they hate it- no privacy, their personal items packed in boxes and stored in the garage, no where to escape from the Baby Blueberry who thinks that sisters should play with her all the time. And forget the state of the mattresses, they seem to think that the mattresses are giant trampolines.  

      But they have gratitude too. They realize that they still have a house. They have heat. A roof over their head. So these things are inconvenient- and frustrating. And Baby Blueberry still hasn't potty trained- it stopped the day she watched the toilet explode with poopy water but it will happen. 

But I don't hear a lot of complaints from them. 

But onto the minivan. 

I was driving Bean to dance. Abu was already at dance and Blueberry was in the back in her car seat. The roads were nasty that night but let me back up a little bit further... 

The night before I had the weirdest dream.  This old woman gave me three silver charm bracelets that had been blessed to protect my girls. I woke up feeling a bit unnerved. What did my girls need protection from? And does a bracelet given in a dream really provide any sort of blessing?

That morning my father-in-law worried about the state of the tires on the van, called and said he was going to take the minivan that night after dance and have snow tires put on it. Since the bald tires weren't working great on ice and snow, I agreed gratefully with his suggestion. But in a few hours, I think bald tires actually worked in our favor...

On the way home from dropping off Abu to dance all I could think about was being in a car accident. My thoughts were getting quite chaotic with what am I going to do tomorrow without a car and I have interviews to get too and kids to drop off to dance. The thoughts of having a car accident were heavy but I assumed it was because the roads were nasty and people were driving stupid. - no, seriously, people if the roads are icy, slow the hell down. But I swear, people really don't understand physics. If that is one subject we need to spend more time on in school- it's physics. Not crazy, abstract, concepts they refer to on The Big Bang Theory physics- but simple laws of motions. 

Back to the story....I told Bean we needed to leave a bit early for dance, I didn't want to be in a hurry. And while I drove I was super aware, trying to avoid the sinking we're-going-to-get-a-car-accident- feeling. 

We stopped at one of the main intersections, in the turning lane, waiting our turn. As we have done a million times before, as we have done since. 

When this oncoming truck decides to run the red and plow into the oncoming car...right in front of us. In less than a second, the pick up truck hits the oncoming car- no breaks applied- ricochets off of them, and hits us head-on in the turning lane. 

There is no time to do anything except realize that we are going to be hit and hopefully it doesn't hurt too much. I let my foot off the brake, I wasn't going to fight against the force of that beast coming at us, and with bare tires, when the pick-up hit us, it slams us back into our seats and we slid about 10 feet back and six feet to the right, luckily into a buffer lane between the turning lane and the other lanes. So we avoid hitting anyone behind us. 

There is nothing like the image of a huge ass truck bumper coming right for your vehicle, aimed towards the passenger side with one of your babies in the passenger seat, knowing it's going to hit and there's nothing you can do. 

NOTHING. There wasn't time to move the vehicle. There wasn't time to throw it in reverse, which wasn't much of an option, because there was cars behind us. 

In less than 2 seconds you just have time to know. To know that events put into place are about to happen and you hope or PRAY that it will all be okay when that 2 seconds is over. 

Abu asked Bean later, "Did your life flash before your lives, like in the movies?" 

Bean answered, "No, there wasn't even time." 

Luckily, when she realized we were going to be hit, she took a deep breath, relaxed and allowed the motion of the crash to move through her. She didn't brace, she didn't tense and all those talks of physics I had with her and car accidents and explaining that sometimes bracing can be the worse thing you can do, actually clicked and she was fine.

The first thing I did was check my girls. Bean was okay. Blueberry was okay. Quiet, not even crying.

 But in a few moments she says from the backseat,  "That was scary. Oh, my God." 

And then after I realized my girls were okay. I was okay. We walked away without even whiplash. And even though I realized too that my minivan was totaled. Front frame bent into the engine, radiator destroyed, bumper damaged, alignment screwy...all I could feel was gratitude. 

My girls were okay. 

The minivan I can replace. I miss my minivan but it's totally, completely 100 percent replaceable. 

My girls were okay though. More than okay, they weren't even hurt. 

So yes, losing our main car has been a pain in the ass. Especially when the other driver didn't have insurance and due to my own dumb ass I only had liability on my van. (When we were first married we could only afford liability on our vehicles and our vehicles weren't worth much. When we got the van, I should have switched it but I didn't even think about it. Lesson learned.)

But if the other driver had insurance, than I would at least be getting a check to help replace my vehicle from their insurance company instead I have to take them to small claims court. Which seems like a waste of time, because if they weren't paying insurance...

But with all that being said...gratitude. 

Herd of Turkeys

   


    Five turkey hand prints from five special girls. Bean's turkey is the velociraptor turkey, ready to eat people first. Abu's turkey is almost as big as her sister's, which is crazy to me because they're growing up way too fast.
    CT's is the decorative one. Bug's has running shoes on. And Baby Blueberry's is small and cute.

   And before people remind that birds come in flocks, please know that Bean knows this-- that's why she wrote herd. :-)

   Because I know people have read many blog posts about gratitude, I'll sure fatigue must be kicking in so I'll keep my thankful list short before I hand over the rest of the blog to my guest blogger, Abu.

Simply.   I'm thankful. For everything.

Now for Abu's guest blog: 

       Nov. 26

       from: Abu the turkey

       to: person who wants to eat me

       Dear Person,

               You should not eat me. I am high in cholesterol and fat. I'm salty and don't taste good but I know someone who taste good. There's a Duck across the pond who taste good and has a lot of meat. Yes, his name is Aflac and he taste really good. He might offer you free insurance but don't take his offer. He is far more tasty than me and he taste a lot better than his deals.

            What's that you say? You want turkey this year. I got to go!!

Abu   

Babies are such a Blessing

    A week after our unexpected visit to the ER for kidney stones, Hero Hottie was finally feeling better and I was still pregnant.
    Very pregnant. I felt about ready to burst like a balloon with too much air. I was so grateful to be nearing my due date; since for a few months there I was overwhelmed with worry that my torn placenta would cause us great heartache; but I was ready to have this Baby now.

    That evening things finally started...but of course not in the way we expected. Did I  mention I'm done with making plans and trying to have more Faith? My plans for delivery would have been a disaster; but luckily my actual birth plan wasn't decided by me.

    I walked out into the yard to check on Bean and Abu who were enjoying the nice autumn evening. It was warm and relaxing. I felt a sharp, unusual pain in my back and then nothing. Strange but I didn't think much about it until a few minutes later when I realized that my water had broken. It wasn't a gush or dramatic or anything like you see in the movies. In fact, this heavily pregnant lady thought she lost bladder control for a moment.
       Normally, I would be embarrassed to talk about such things, but heck, I had a full term infant resting on top of my bladder, leaks happen.

     When I finally realized, that yes, my water had broken; I also realized I wasn't having any contractions. None. Zip. Zero. After three weeks of them, suddenly and strangely, they were absent. This labor and delivery was nothing like my other two.
    We sent the older girls to Grandma, with a promise that as soon as things actually started to happen, we would send for them. They were hoping to be in the delivery room while I gave birth and didn't want to miss their sister's arrival.
    Hero Hottie and I packed our bags and went to the hospital. Regardless of the missing contractions, my water had still broken and now we had to go deliver a baby. I was starting to feel excited. Baby Blueberry was coming!! It was going to be her birthday. And I was going to be able to hold her and kiss her and love her.

     I will skip the next sixteen hours. It's quite boring. I was barely having contractions and in fact they were so mild, I was able to sleep through a lot of them. Sleep was good though. The doctor even let me eat, since I wasn't experiencing any real labor yet. Hero Hottie and I watched the Food Network and slept and waited for something to happen.
    The next morning, after sixteen hours of labor, we agreed with the doctor, very reluctantly, that we should start the pitocin.
    I hate pitocin. I had it with my first labor and it makes the contractions rough. They're harsher, more painful, and they leave me feeling like I'm totally not in control of my own body. I didn't want to take it, but I could not get labor to kick start and we were trying everything...walking, ankle massages, more walking...nothing.
    The first few hours were still slow, since we had started with a low dose and were only slowly increasing it. I still wanted a natural birth and was even willing to try it, knowing the pitocin might make it more difficult.
    Then with another dose increase, my old uterus, as the nurses so kindly put it (hey, now- I'm only in my early thirties.) finally decided to do something.
    And oh boy, did it work then. Being the stubborn ass that I am though, I gritted my teeth through the wickedly horrible pitocin contractions, still determined to do this without an epidural.
    Until it was too late of course. And I was stuck with these massive waves of sharp pain in my back and wrapping around to the front. They were not normal contractions at all. It was like my uterus was protesting the intervention and was refusing to cooperate but the pitocin was stronger and forced it to do its job anyway.
    The nurses helped me climb into the bed, since I had been laboring on a stool. I scooted to the edge and clung to the railing. I should have asked for the epidural when I agreed to the pitocin.
     A little bit later and after a bit of screaming on my part, it was time to deliver Baby Blueberry. Thank goodness because I was done.
     And then that's when my past came to haunt me. The doctor, who knew about my Crohn's and my fistula surgeries suddenly realized that we might have a major disaster on our hands.
    "Did you ask your GI doctor if you could deliver vaginally?" she asks, studying the fistula scars on my bottom under her huge, bright lamp. I don't think she had known just how intensive they were. Or how much area they took up.
    "No." I managed to answer between contractions, wondering, even in my pain dimmed brain why it mattered.
     "You should have. We have a problem."
     "It's a little late now." I answered, feeling Baby Blueberry making her descent and getting ready to crown.
      "If you deliver this baby too fast, than you could tear all this scar tissue. All of it. We have to do this very slowly and let things stretch or it's going to be really bad."
       I had Hero Hottie's hand clutched in mine and I had it pressed to my forehead. I heard his breath catch and could feel his panic. It was my panic too. Healing from the fistulas had nearly ripped our family apart and destroyed my health. And here the doctor was telling me I risked ripping the scars open.
     If they tore, it would be a disaster. They might not even heal this time.
     At that point I really wished I had agreed to an epidural.
     So, Baby Blueberry would have arrived in three or four pushes, according to the doctor. Instead, it took over an hour to push her out because I was allowed a little, tiny push on the start of the contraction and then I had to stop my body from doing anymore.
    "Breathe." Hero Hottie kept telling me.
     "Breathe. Don't push. Don't push. Breathe." The nurses kept telling me.
     And I had to go against every natural instinct a laboring Mom has when her baby is crowning, and breathe.
    Breathe. Breathe. Little push, hardly anything. And pray desperately for enough strength to do this.
    If Hero Hottie hadn't been there, to hold my hand and keep my on task; I'm not sure if I would have been able to. The only thing that kept me from giving in and just allowing her to exit quickly was the fear that I would tear all that scar tissue and I would have...well, I couldn't even think about it, going back to that time period.  So I didn't push.
   Baby Blueberry was absolutely wonderful. Her heart is so strong and she never wavered or experienced any distress even though she had to wait so long to make her appearance.
    Then finally, when I knew I couldn't do it anymore, she slipped out and was suddenly on top of my chest.
    Beautiful baby. Our baby. And she was doing great. The twenty one hour labor didn't faze her at all. We let Bean and Abu into the room then. Originally, I would have allowed them to come in when I was pushing but with the extra complications at the end, we made them wait outside in the hall.
    They were amazed. The nurse took a photo of that special moment, when they first see her and it's the most precious image.

     So my plan for birth would have been as quick as Abu's labor had been and that would have been a disaster for me and my family. Instead, even though it was the hardest hour of my life, I had the labor I needed. With the help of the right doctor, I didn't tear or damage any of the scar tissue. I can't even tell you how many times I have said prayers of gratitude for that small miracle.

    This entire year has turned out differently than Hero Hottie and I imagined it would when we were ringing in the New Year. We were blessed with an unexpected Surprise. And that's how we will tell her that story too. She wasn't an accident, that implies we would change things if we could. No, we will tell her she was a Surprise.
     A wonderful, unexpected Surprise.
     A gift.
     A Blessing.

    Welcome to the world Baby Blueberry. 
   
   

   

Just a Musing...

Taking things for granted...Or do we remember to experience gratitude?

       During childhood most of us are taught to say 'thank you.' And typically we meant it, even if we had to work on getting the words right. To remember our manners. I certainty loved receiving a cookie or a special toy. At Christmas my siblings and I were taught to pay attention to the person giving us the gift so that we may show our gratitude and respect towards the giver. Perhaps it made for a more orderly 'opening of the presents' but we learned to appreciate what we were given. And in turn when a gift we gave was appreciated, we felt warm and fuzzy inside because we knew they enjoyed it and were full of gratitude.

      Now, gifts given by a 'giver' who wants our gratitude in such a way as to be controlling is an entirety different manner, left for another article. Because those are gifts we open with a hesitant heart and a wary soul. 

      Gratitude is important, otherwise we fall into the trap of taking things for granted. And unfortunately we don't even realize we take things for granted until suddenly something terrible happens. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all. But shouldn't we take a bit of time, before we leave the bed in the morning, or before we shut our eyes at night, to take a deep breath and remember what is important? To say 'thank you'. To remember our manners? 

       And not only for things such as clothes, food and toys but for the soil that our food is grown in? The rain that falls on our Earth and supplies us with life? For the sun that warms our planet? Should we remember to be grateful for the cycles of life and the joyful times of development our children grow through? Perhaps we could take a moment to be grateful for dogs because they are loyal and treat us like royalty when we do nothing more than give them pats on the head and puppy treats when they wag their tails?

        It's like writing. I grow frustrated because I haven't achieved my goals, I haven't found an agent or signed with a publisher even though I finished my book and edited until I could edit no more. But perhaps I should feel a bit of gratitude. Why? Because I could write. My brain could form words and sentences and ideas. Because I could embrace my creativity. Because my fingers obey the commands of my brain and type the keys on the computer that I want them to. Journeys of any sort can be difficult, taking our manners with us can help. A bit Pollyanna, I know, (the people that dwell in the world of negative are cringing) but gratitude is a spark of light which is always important otherwise we grow soul weary. And that just sounds like a tired state of being to me.