I know bad things happen, but you can still live...

My mother, me, and my sisters

My amazing husband, brother in law, my boys and step dad

My brother and his wife (and sister on each side)

The above title quote is from the Steven Spielberg directed movie, "Super 8" and is said by an adolescent boy character named Joe.  This is the point, in the rather slow movie, that the tears began to flow and the time I had invested became worth it.  So simple, yet so wise and true...

This will not be eloquent.  This will be choppy and random.  This is how everything I sit down to write about my family is (and why my non-fiction writing class in college was so torturous)...  But, type I will as real is all I know how to be...

As anyone who knows me knows, I love my family with all my being.  My husband, my boys, my mother, sisters and brother complete my soul and fulfill my life in a way that makes breathing and living, well, possible (and very joyful).  Anyone who is in touch with me on a regular basis also knows that I was able to spend a wonderful week with my entire family (all those that hail from Minnesota, Wisconsin, and New York) and I was rejuvenated mentally, physically, and spiritually.  It was a really amazing experience to sit back and watch all of us--together--and feel the immense overflow of blessing that it truly is.  To feel it reverberate to the very core of my soul.  I covet this time and treasure it deeply.  Though departure was very sad for all of us (Max and Griffyn still miss everyone terribly), I also felt revived and validated.  It hasn't always been this way...

It's been a long time coming.  Lots of hard work, reconstruction, and lots and lots of faith.  We've always loved each other immensely, but we haven't always been safe.  Now we are.  And what a difference that has made.  And even when safety no longer became an issue, trust was.  How do you rebuild after someone has so devastatingly raped everything from you that you thought was you; and ultimately~~who you felt you could have been?  How do you trust "the others", that although they went through the same abuse, they will not hurt you again? 

It's so much faith, my friends.  Faith, time, and understanding.  An understanding that the past is very much the past, the present is much better, and the future is even brighter.  The faith that everyone is doing their absolute best to be the people God intended them to be; in His light and likeness and not under the dark dictatorship of someone who was supposed to love, protect, and guide you, and instead told you that you were a worthless piece of nothing resulting from sin.  Imagine the freedom of escaping that tyranny--and then the chaos of finding yourself and your true place in the world and God's plan, by his mercy, for you.  "Rewiring" your entire thinking process about yourself and the world around you... 

My mom divorced my biological father during the birth of my first son about nine years ago.  It was very difficult for me to have my mom ask me for help as I had fought and fought this man from childhood to adulthood very much on my own.  I put my trust in my heavenly Father that it was the right thing to do, and with a colicky three month old baby in tow, I did everything I could to "save" my mom.  My siblings did the same.  Then it was time to work together to save our family...

Like I said, the rebuild has been slow.  So much hurt and pain to wade through.  So many things kept silent.  But underneath it all, we were survivors together and had held on together.  And no one knew what we had been through but us.  It's okay to talk about it all, cry it out, scream it out--even if it doesn't make sense.  Because that is what families do.  You love each other unconditionally.  We all had to relearn this.  And we all wanted it badly enough to do so.  We created a place where it was okay to be just who we were--scars and all.  This is my heaven on earth...

Where I came from is nothing I am ashamed of.  It's a major part of who I am.  I've learned to glean the positive--it has made me a fighter, made me strong, and made me appreciate everything I have had to fight for.  Each and every day is a blessing.  However, there were many years where I hated people asking me the question, "and are you going to see your folks for such and such a holiday?" "how's your dad?" and questions and accusations and more questions (and don't even get me started on our wedding...).  I was just trying to, quite literally, survive.  Keep my sanity and fight for my soul.  How do you put out an answer like that casually?  And how do you not feel like a bad person for trying to avoid such a sullen and private explanation by saying, "oh, I'm just not really all that close to my family."  It has taught me not to judge others.  You never know what people have been through or are going through.  There's way too much judgement going on in this world. 

I've learned so much about myself and have faith that everything happens for a reason.  I am not the person I was ten years ago, or five years ago, for that matter.  I have learned that I AM worth something.  I am a child of God and there is no one person that merits my value on this earth. I do NOT have to  please people all the time to have a sense of self worth.  As easy as this sounds, this one has been a long time coming.  I am still learning it to this day, and my family's visit this past week was perfect timing for a typical situation that has been a reoccurring "thorn in my flesh" for me. 

I can not stand gossip.  Especially in the guise of "concern".  A person who talks behind your back to others and create scenarios that are completely untrue--"stretched truths, altered truths, embellished truths"--all still lies.  If you have something to say, say it to my face, and when I call you on it, don't have the audacity to claim concern--if you were truly concerned you would talk to me, honestly, openly, like an adult with respect for another adult.  I will not except this kind of talk against other people either.  I will tell you, point blank, I don't want to hear it or have anything to do with it.  How is it "helping" anyone?   It doesn't.  It is purely self seeking, and really, has nothing to do with me--just the other person's desire for attention...

In essence, my background has taught me that HONESTY and TRUTH and RESPECT are the basic building blocks of any relationship and should be present in ALL of our relationships.  If they are not, walk away.  And if you have no choice but to deal with these kind of people, let their lies and manipulation games just run off like water.  God WILL give you the strength and mental fortitude to do so...

This past week, my family was able to show me that God sees my heart, they see my heart, and that people who truly know and love me know who I am.  Does the opinion of strangers and those who really don't care about me who are being fed garbage really matter?  In the end, all truth will be shown.  I am responsible for me and being the very best person God created me to be.  That is all--and that is enough.  Before, I would have let it devastate me.  Isn't it funny that the people that seem to know you the least and show the least respect for you, are the ones that have the most advice on how you should go about living your life; the most judgement and the most twisted version of the "truth" (as they call it)?  I thank my mom, sisters, brother, and step dad for not letting me slip back into old patterns and just to let this negativity all go.  I didn't have this support structure before.  I am more than grateful to have it now.  I credit my husband for this as well.  He has been through everything with me and has always stood up for me and stood by my side. 

We've been through hell and back.  We've made it to a very good place.  I am so proud of us.  No, we're not perfect,  No we never will look perfect and I'm sure there will always be someone out there judging us, but I really don't care.  I don't.  There is SO much freedom in that.  We are a motley crew of mixed baggage, and to me, we look absolutely beautiful!

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in my weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

This verse sums it up for me.  I did not have a "Leave It To Beaver" family.  The past was dark.  The important part is that it is over (although the nightmares still come and go for us) and we are all moving on to be the people we wanted to be to and with each other and were not allowed to be.  We are the family we always wanted (smile).  Words can not express my gratefulness to God for that.  I love you all, Erin, Tim, Jennifer, Molly, Mom, Homer, and Marty--we are the Super 8 and although "bad things happen, you can still live...".  Praise God!  His love endures forever!

The Confessions Of An On-line Shopaholic...

    
What a week!  From surgery, to a strep and barf epidemic at work, to mice in the car...  I'm ready to put my feet up and tune in to Bravo.  This momma is wiped out!
The car has been scrubbed, washed and vacuumed out (and every little noise made me jump--and thanks to Lisa for the tip about the dryer sheets too), Clorox bleached, car seat washed, all blankets washed, and then everything sprayed down again one more time for good measure.  Gold Canyon auto refresher hanging to tone down the smell of bleach a little.  Autumn Walk infused with Clorox.  Maybe I'm on to something (smile)...
In pain as I may have not "taken it easy" on the leg this week of healing, but what mom seriously has the leisure and luxury to do that?  My family is home.  Just waiting on Tim, Jenna, and Molly.  Max has a basketball game, then off to Norwalk for pizza and goodies and Harold and Erin time!!! (and gma, gpa, and Aunt Jen too, of course).  I'm finding myself in serious need of a second wind.  Laundry all completed and house vacuumed.  Have to thank my husband for the vacuuming.  The darn leg wouldn't cooperate with that one.  There is SOME pain you just have to listen to (smile).
Wrapped some gifts and got them under the tree for the three boys.  Waiting for a few more to arrive.  I have come to the conclusion, after always having a sneaking suspicion, that I have a SERIOUS online shopping problem when it comes to my family and home.  And all the online deals and super sales lately have NOT been helping this addiction (damn you, Kohl's!!!).  It's not a super, fabulous, great deal if you don't need it in the first place, right? 
I knew it had gotten really bad when a few gifts I'd ordered for the boys arrived on my doorstep and I'd completely forgotten I had even ordered them (I blame Totsy's slow service for that one).  It has to stop.  It really must.  My credit card bill is atrocious.  I will publicly admit that to you all (I know, hard to believe on a teacher's salary that I just can't pay cash for everything!).  And the sad part is, I gave my credit card to my husband to deter my spending--but after you've used it so frequently online you have all the necessary numbers memorized.  I need help.  It's just way too easy. 
I am making a solemn vow to myself, friends, and family to stop.  Now.  Just quit.  It has gotten so bad that I tell myself it just doesn't matter anymore.  But it does.  And it just keeps getting worse.  It's kind of like when I try to go on a diet--and just gain more weight.  It's sinful as  it's gluttony, it's greed...  My kids need more toys, clothes, movies, and shoes like they need more Halloween candy.  Although I adore their smiles and hugs of appreciation at said gifts, I know that I can gain those loves from them without the debt.
I tell myself, "It's only money".  I tell myself, "The government is in serious debt, why should I be any different?".  I try to Freud it, as I do most things, by telling myself it's just because I had nothing as a kid.  I started babysitting full time in the summers at the tender age of sixth grade (Alex and Chris Newman--where are those sweet little boys now?), worked in a factory binder in 7th (which I'm wondering if that was even legal), water billing in Lakewood, the cafe in Norwalk's old Plaza and that was all before I hit my senior year of high school.  I worked my butt off, and it was for shampoo, deodorant, clothes, all the rest of my toiletries--stuff I needed--because that's what you do in a struggling family of seven.  Luxuries weren't on the menu.  Cool clothes and extra's were something I borrowed from my friends (thank you, Summer!).
So, I like to splurge.  I like to be able to get my children all the fun stuff (and yes, myself included).  I feel like I've earned it, dammit!  I've worked so hard my entire life, and I'm tired of everyone else getting all the good stuff.  I sound like a little brat throwing a temper tantrum, don't I? 
But, that's how I rationalize it.  My kids are good people, I'm good people, my friends and family are good people, and gosh darn it, we deserve it.  And so I rationalize the idea that things buy happiness.  And I sit having a panic attack and being thrown into a chasm of depression every time I get my credit card bill~shaking as I open it (I wish I was kidding).  The never ending pit that I vow to dig myself out of.  It will happen.  It has to happen.  I owe it to my family and myself.  I owe it, especially, to my husband who works so hard to make this blessed life happen for us!
I also find that the more my life spins out of the control, the more I "need" to buy things to feel better.  Stress induces shopping.  But then my shopping induces a panic attack as I fume at my weakness and lack of self control and I become even more stressed.  It's a vicious cycle--and one I need to get out of fast!!!  My children need a college education more than a personalized, monogrammed, matching pair of Sponge Bob pajamas and slippers!  Wow, I just typed that 'out loud'. 
So, this is my plea to all of you.  Hold me accountable, keep me motivated, and any tips or suggestions to make this easier would be most helpful.  This is the worst time of year to make this commitment, along with the diet I've vowed to stick to, but it has to be done.  It is breaking my spirit, truly.  Marty has instructed my children to tell me "no" when I ask them a question about something I think they'll want and Max has been very good about this (although I can see disappointment in his eyes).  But maybe that's disappointment in me, not the dismissed gadget or toy.  Disappointment that his momma can't practice what she preaches--that material things don't matter or renew a person's soul...
Baby steps.  And although the pit seems far too vast, I must start digging.  I'm being honest with myself.  I'm being honest with my kids and my husband.  I really don't like the person I see in the mirror, or the sinking feeling I get in my stomach when I get online "just to look".  It truly is a drug of sorts. 
What surprises me the most in all of this, is that I am a very "in control" person.  I do not let myself explore that other side (hence my aversion to the prescribed pain pills for my last two leg surgeries--I'd rather feel the pain than that out of  my body feeling--it makes me much too uncomfortable), but when it comes to buying things, I can't say no. 
Until today...  Target, Victoria's Secret, Amazon, Piperlime, Zappos, Kohl's, Athleta, Totsy, Sephora--be gone with you!  You will tempt be no more! 

Stabs, butterflies, and no more spaghetti...

Bringing Sexy Back...

Day four after surgery this past Friday...  Mummy ace bandages that went from foot to thigh could finally be taken off.  Bloody gauze pads removed.  A few butterfly bandages ripped and were replaced by band aids.  I was able to take a shower!  It's the little things we must celebrate (smile)...

All in all, this procedure was hands down easier and less painful than the first I had done in April.  Dr. Fry is amazing.  Besides having great hair, he is a pro at wielding that hook and scalpel (along with that very poky scissors of his).  The vein is gone.  The pain during surgery minimal (aside from one screaming moment over the knee cap where I lamented that the last time I had pain this severe, I got to bring a baby home), just an utterly strange feeling of your muscles and skin being pulled and yanked for an hour and fifteen minutes and hearing the snipping of scissors and feeling the rushing of fluids.  I asked Dr. Fry if that was, by chance, blood I was feeling.  He looked up at me and said with that infamous little chuckle, "well, and other things".  I stopped asking questions...

What felt like an eternity later ( I was awake for this one, but the drugs they gave me were fabulous as I really didn't feel much pain--just "weirdness"), he asked me if I wanted to see the extracted vein.  The big old swollen thing had been with me for so very long, I only felt it proper to say farewell and wish it all the best.  I knew I'd be kicking myself later if I had gone through this whole ordeal and hadn't taken the opportunity to look at it.  Very gross.  There is was, just laying on the metal tray next to all of the surgical equipment--in three separate pieces.  "Looks like a worm, doesn't it?"  Dr. Fry asked.  "Either that or spaghetti", I said--not sure I'd ever be able to eat it again.  Something that was once inside my body was just lying there--all bloody and slimy.  It was quite surreal.  Four incisions, or stabs, were made in my leg to get it out (I really should have named it).  Lots of bruising due to the tugging and pulling.  All rather miraculous to me.  Modern medicine is truly a marvel.  Dr. Fry asked me if I was having separation anxiety when I laid back down (always the joker).  I said, "No, just trying not to pass out."

All swollen and bandaged up, I was told not to shower or take the dressings off till Monday.  I kind of think he said some other important stuff too, but I really don't remember much.  Hobbled on out, made a recheck appointment for December, and then back in the van.   Marty stopped to get me a salad at McDonald's (thanks to my sister's very generous gift card on this momentous day), scarfed it down as I was starving, went home and went to bed.  My sister was kind enough to take the day off of work to watch Griffyn for us--who wanted to jump on mommy right away and didn't understand why I was "so cabby". 

Our friend and neighbor, Amy, and the kids came over to drop off dinner last night and check in on me (thanks, girl!).  I told her my only real concern was that Dr. Fry had said the butterfly bandages covering the incisions should stay on for a week and a few of them had already opened up (I got dizzy trying to stand and fell right on my knee -- pretty sure that's what did it).  She assured me not to worry about the butterflies breaking and told me just to put a band aid over it.  Amy is a great source for all information medical and otherwise (smile).

 

At bedtime, I asked the boys if they had any questions or concerns after we read our stories for the night.  They had been in Iowa City all weekend while Daddy hung out with friends and watched the game and they had lots of fun making cookies and decorating the tree with Grandma Mitchell.  They left for Iowa City a few hours after I had surgery and had only seen me in pain and then go to bed.  I wanted to talk about it because the unknown is scary, and this really wasn't anything for them to be worried or scared about. 

Max's interpretation of what happened was awful.  He assumed they spliced me from ankle to hip and completely cut my whole leg open and pulled everything out.  He was worried I'd never be able to walk again.  I let him ask lots of questions and explained the surgery process in very easy steps.  He was quite relieved.  I told them they made teeny, tiny incisions (about the same size as the cuts Griffyn had to get stitched up by his eye and mouth), pulled the vein out of those incisions, stitched them back up, bandaged me up, and now it was just time for it all to heal.  Griffyn then asked me, "Is dat when dey put in da butta fies?".  Max says, "What are you talking about, Griffyn?"  So G says again, "Da butta fies--in yore yegs...  Is dat when dey put dem in?".  I realized then, that Griffyn had heard Amy and I talking about the butterfly bandages and just started laughing.  "No, G.  No butterflies in my legs, honey.  That's just what they call the band aids they put on because the stips look like butterfly wings."  He looked thoroughly disappointed...

So, all in all, not the best time I've ever had, but by far much, much better than the last procedure!!!  Rerouting three different veins and keeping them going must be more painful than just pulling the suckers out.  The heal time for actual working viens is much longer, longating the recovery process.  I had to worry about rupturing and exploding occuring in my leg as the veins were healing.  Nothing majorly internal to heal this time around.  It's mostly on the outside of my leg with this procedure. That vein is in a hospital dumpster.  They wouldn't let me take it home in a jar (ha!). 

Very thankful for such an amazing surgeon in Dr. Fry, a fabulous nursing staff, my sister, Jen, for watching Griff and spoiling me, my mother in law for watching the boys in Iowa City so I could rest (although, I didn't go to sleep till after 2 a.m. that night as I'd never been away from all three of my boys for a night and it was unbearable and I don't plan on doing it again any time soon), and all of my friends for the phone calls, support, and love.  I am so blessed. 

Dr. Fry promised I'd be faster, sexier, and healthier, so I'm holding him to that (smile).  What a year.  To go from never having surgery in your entire life, to having two in one year within seven months of each other is just way too much excitement for me.  I think I'll take a break and let someone else have a turn now.  Any takers? ;)