Why Yes, I Am Super Woman...

PFT's today--Pulmonary function tests.  Just felt cooler calling them by the letters.  Rough morning.  Didn't know the damn things were going to make me cry. Or keep me sitting in the doc's office forever.  Couldn't leave till I could drive.  6 longest seconds of my life--three times.  Bleck! 
As most of you laboriously know, I have been sick... forever...  And this morning, well, after bombing my PFT's (just say it, it's fun :)), I'm pretty damn proud of myself for existing, functioning, working, breathing, being at all...  Why yes, I am superwoman...
To those of you who have the infinite pleasure of living your life asthma free (lucky bastards) -- you've probably never giving much thought to breathing, your lung's function, or how it all effects the rest of your body in it's entirety.  Those of us with it and with children with it, think about it on a daily basis.  And when we get hit with respiratory illnesses it is especially unpleasant, but as of late, my body has been feeling just plain awful.
So, the numbers--the ranges...  Here we go.  A "normal" range for a pulmonary function test reading is somewhere between 80 and 100.  "Moderate" is anywhere between 60 and 80.  "Bad" is 40 to 60.  Mine?  Go big or go home, was--da, da, da-- 34.  Awesome.  My doc wanted to know how I was functioning at all and commenced freak out-- "we must fix this!!!"--mode (God, I love her, she really is the best).  I was, amazingly, calm and chill--well, I really am comatose at this point ;)--no air coming or going ;).  And, after all of this "stuff"--if it's one thing I've learned--it doesn't pay to freak out.  There will be another specialist to see and more tests to be done ;). 
So when I'm sucking wind and feeling like I have a ton of bricks on my chest all day at work and can barely make it up the steps?  Totally get it.  When I'm sick and my body is running a raging fever at the end of every stinking week because it's expended ALL of it's energy just trying to breathe?  Get it again.  Oh, and the kicker?  My lung's "age"?  100.  Yeah, 100.  I've always felt like an old soul, but come on!  People, I am kicking ass for 100!!! :)  Laugh, that's funny. 
So, on prednisone (called it!) again for the next 30 (yes, that says thirty) days.  And on another kind of inhaler 2 times a day (except that my lovely insurance denied it since I'm on another inhaler for my "regular" asthma and I have to call the pharmacy back in three days -- since it's the weekend and all -- and see if it's been approved -- the pharmacist asked if I was having a really bad time with my asthma and when I explained the entire situation to her, she felt so horrible and said, "Unfortunately your insurance company doesn't care.  They just don't want to have to pay for it."  Nice.  So, I guess I'll just wait till Monday?) that is a different kind of steroid than my other inhaler to try to get my lungs functioning to a regular kind of "bad" ;). 
Then, it's off to see a Pulmonologist and get inflicted with other fun tests--I mean get the privilege of taking other tests.  I just go with it all now.  My body truly amazes me that it even moves at this point ;).  My PFT print outs go with me with all their "very severe" flags and graphs and percentages and the thought of being on prednisone for an entire month just makes me ...  I don't even know if there are words...  Marty's packing up his essentials to go live else where for awhile ;) ...
So I'm just going to go ahead and pat myself on the back and give myself a heck of a lot of credit for doing as much as I'm doing for a body that is functioning with as little oxygen and as low capacity as it is.  No wonder I'm so freaking tired.  On top of everything else with my lungs, they just don't flipping work.  So there, world.  Lay off.  This 100 year old is doing pretty well, thank you very much :).  And if you could do better, you're willing to walk a mile.  Here' my shoes... :)

The More You Know...

What day is it?  Where am I?  It's been a fun couple of days (dripping sarcasm) -- and I am only writing this to update friends and family.  It is not fun--it will be very, very boring (maybe all of my blogs are ;) ).  It's just easier for me to relay information this way then to have to call everyone--that and my voice is not all the way there yet.  And Griffyn still persists, "What?!?  What did you say, Momma?  I tan't weally hear you so dood." with his mischievous grin and giggle.  Three days of not being able to talk has been so frustrating!  I thought my husband didn't listen to me before ;) ...

We spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon in radiology today.  A little mix up at the front desk.  Apparently there are several radiology departments.  Such sweet people. So very kind.  I just couldn't stand--this whole breathing deal.  I'm just really weak.  The kind souls kept wanting to bring me a wheal chair and didn't want me to walk.  I opted for a regular chair until everything got sorted out.  It did, and I got a pretty little bracelet (above :)) for all my troubles.

More tests, more x-rays, story of my life for what feels like forever.  I live at my doctor's office and occasionally vacation at specialist's (my ENT being my favorite spa get away--they have the best coffee ;)).  This was a little scary.  I have scar tissue on my lungs, but we were making sure that that was all it was.  Ruling out tumors again.  Had been through this with my MRI for my head "issues", and now we were checking out the lungs.  I knew it wasn't.  It just wasn't.  But, it's always a little frightening.  Especially when you're so darn sick all the time.  I allowed my mind to go 'there' for five seconds.  Then I was done...

Marty drove as I couldn't.   Max is in IC at basketball camp, so we were down one kid--the most well behaved one ;).  But, G was so good.  He was promised a giant cookie :).  He was amazing, actually.  Maybe he felt my somber mood .  Maybe he just really wanted that cookie.  We did our thing.  Then it was time to wait.  I hate waiting.

Nothing new.  I had heard what I heard before.  Scar tissue.  Just hanging out within my lungs due to previous infections--pneumonia, various respiratory infections, what have you--pick, I've had a plethora ;).  But, what I hadn't had before was all the information to go along with this.  Scars don't sound so bad, right?  Turns out the nasty buggers ARE what is causing all of my issues (on top of my preexisting asthma and allergies, of course).  Amazing what being given information can do!

Good thing is, they're not contagious.  I can't give them to you or my kids.  Bad thing is, there is no "cure" and they really won't ever go away.  But, I can learn to manage them.  Again, information is a wonderful thing. 

Here's the break down.  Try to stay awake ;).  Scar tissue replaces healthy lung tissue, which causes my lungs to swell and stiffen, making breathing difficult.  I'm going to get all science on you now (well, as science as I get ;)):  the tissue that lines and supports the alveoli, rather than expanding and contracting like they normally do like balloons, become less soft and elastic.  They become stiff.  This is what makes it so hard to breathe.  This was my light bulb moment.  I kept explaining this "rubber band like" feeling over and over and over again to my doc and ENT and my friends--it's like I can't get a full range of motion with a breath--it pulls like a rubber band when I take a breath in--catches and pulls back.  Now I get it!  And I keep using my inhaler and it just doesn't work--well, it won't work for that!  I just needed someone to explain it to me.  So, when I have an asthma flair up, get sick or get a cold or experience respiratory problems, that scar tissue gets all inflamed (and angry--Griffyn said :)).  I really need to try to avoid that as much as possible.  That's when I get blasted and all the really bad trouble starts...

Scarred lungs reduce the amount of oxygen that enters the blood stream and circulates within the body, causing lower then normal oxygen levels (hello, always being cold, poor circulation, and blue toes and fingers!!!)  This also cause my shortness of breath, my inability (they called it 'reduced capacity for exercise') to run all this time, fatigue, and confusion--see, my love, it's not ALL my fault ;).  It can also cause the mild frontal chest pain I've been experiencing (that ton of bricks and heaviness I always seem to feel and walk around with daily) and this off and on again cough.  The meds to reduce the inflammation (hello, my best friend -- NOT -- prednisone!!! -- that I've been on at least eight times since January) completely negate your immune system and it says right on the darn bottle to avoid people with infections.  I work with kids.  So yes, I get sick all the time.  I'm on a drug, constantly, that helps me breath, but completely wipes out my immune system.  So the being sick all the time?  Guess I'll have to start wearing a mask ;).  The trick is to avoid being in places where there are a lot of germs when you are on prednisone.  But when you are on it as often as I am, that's tricky--and do what I do, I should add.

So, if there is no cure, no wonder drug (beside insufferable steroids that are only temporary fixes to reduce inflammation during bad flare ups), what the heck am I supposed to do?  Here were the suggestions and "prescriptions" I was given.  Breathing exercises (yay, I get to utilize my yoga as therapy :) !).  Managing stress and anxiety and making life style changes to stay as healthy as possible.  ALWAYS avoid second hand smoke, moderate exercise like walking and yoga (yay again :)), eat very small but frequent meals to reduce stomach fullness so it's easier to breathe, get lots of rest, maintain a positive attitude (no really, we talked about this ;)), practice relaxation techniques, and avoid situations that can worsen your condition such as allergens (please people, take me SERIOUSLY NOW--all those many, many years of putting up with people not giving a damn about me or my kid's allergies certainly didn't help any of this, I'm sure--I'd always come home afterwards with an upper respiratory infection, sinus infection or bronchitis--just adding to the scars and mess), stress, high altitudes (traveling by air), etc.

Then we got into diet.  Fruits and veggies, of course :).  Anything rich in vitamin A and C--to fight deficiencies often caused by this issue--and to fight the physical weakness that goes with it and my increased risk for colds (my doc is a mega vitamin pusher--I take both of these already, but will look for foods high in them as well :) ).  Whole grains to stabilize blood sugar.  Anyone that's on prednisone as much as I am knows how it screws with your blood sugar.  Holy toledo!  Fun times! ;)And fatty fish.  It helps reduce inflammation associated with lung diseases such as asthma.  It also provides ample protein which supports tissue repair, improved muscle mass, and immune system function.  Salmon, albacore tuna, herring, flounder--all examples with maximum benefits (okay, I'll admit it, I had to look these up as I know nothing about fish).  I'm sure Marty and the boys will welcome ALL of these additions to our diet whole heartily!!! :)

I kept asking about the extreme fatigue.  I mean, this is more than "I didn't get enough sleep for a week".  It's "My whole body hurts and I can barely move and can someone carry me, please?"  All, apparently, normal.  Yay--I think?  Once your lungs have been damaged, you will experience shortness of breath and severe fatigue.  You may even struggle to preform the simplest task--like brushing your teeth (or in my case, the whole taking a shower thing just wipes me out).  She stressed breathing exercises and doing them often. The lung's major function is to take carbon dioxide from your blood and replace it with oxygen and then your blood travels through your body and exchanges these gases in your muscles (I think I'm remembering this right).  By adding moderate exercise and breathing exercise, you can improve your blood circulation which will enable your body to exchange as much oxygen and carbon dioxide as possible with your muscle tissue to optimize the impaired output of your lungs.  When my carbon dioxide levels get too high, I will feel even more tired and I build up this thing called lactic acid in my muscles, which makes me feel sore all over (explains a lot also--that "whole body ache--even my bones hurt" feeling).  So, I'm supposed to breathe in slowly and deeply and purposefully (this sounds just like my yoga mediation breathing :)).  Fill my lungs completely then exhale slowly as if I am blowing out a birthday cake full of candles.  I'm supposed to repeat this breathing exercise until I no longer feel tired or short of breath.  If you see me doing this in public, do not be alarmed, I'm just blowing the imaginary candles out on my imaginary cake ;).  Griffyn thinks it's fun.  His is a bit spitty, however ;).

I go back in to see my regular doc again on Friday.  That's our day :).  Friday.  We're doing some more lung tests.  PT something, I've forgotten already--it's the lack of oxygen--makes me forgetful ;).  Just going with the flow, I am not going to get stressed, I am going to realize how serious this is and take better care of myself.  I cringed when my husband's mom called to see what happened today and he said, "oh it was still JUST the scar tissue".  Turns out, it's a bigger deal than I thought it was.  Now I need him to understand this as well.  I'm going to need his help in all of this.  It's going to be a big change for me--a person who pushes and likes to do everything themselves and is very OCD :).

I can't make it go away, but I can do my best to not make it worse.  And I will.  Zen-fully so :).  Positive mind, breathing exercises, only good in, bad out, healthy eating, and not pushing a thing.  Life will always be crazy--that's the nature of it--but how I chose to react to it does not have to be.  I may get more worn out or tire more easily than some people, but that's okay too.  I am learning to expect less from myself and learning I do not have to do it all.  This is me, and this is my body.  I'm no less of a person because of it--and just because you can't see the scars on my lungs or know why I am the way I am, doesn't mean I need to apologize for it or push myself to make other people happy.  I'm just not doing it anymore.  And there is such a peace in that for me today.  Such a peace.  Maybe it's the breathing exercises. ;)  Or maybe it's knowing that if I don't take care of this, it will get worse, and it's not worth it to me to go there. 

And the metaphor lover in me (oh my friends, they are everywhere :)) can't help seeing the analogy of my life and all the things I've been through and my "soul scars", as I call them, along with this scar tissue on my lungs that makes it so difficult for me to breathe.  My soul scars do too.  But with a lot of patience, slowing down, taking the time to focus on the good, turning my eyes to heaven, and really, really, for the first time in my life genuinely not caring what anyone else thinks or expects from me, just maybe, I can start to heal.  The scars that are there will always be there.  But I certainly don't need to make new ones.  I'm excited to start this journey, scared, yes, but fresh and new--brave now--and thankful for the entire experience.  There is a reason for everything and God always has a plan. 

I'm a stubborn child.  God needed me to walk a different walk.  A walk that did not depend on an existence deemed by the value and merit based on the opinion of others.  I look too much to that--and I know all the psychological ramifications for it and all the reasons for the need for that acceptance.  But God doesn't want me to continue to walk that way and I just can't seem to break those chains.  Now, with this new way to breathe, I can.  I really think I have to.  It's a physical reminder.  One that makes me stop to think and breathe--literally.  Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you.

And that is all, my friends.  I'm good.  Fighting this nasty cold and respiratory virus still, but so very, very good. 

Love to you all, as always.  And so much peace :)!

Keeping it all together...

A rainy Friday.  The boys were up early.  Marty had cross country practice.  Mommy is sick--again.  We managed to accomplish a lot (of littles).  Nothing important, but a lot.  Daddy's Father's Day craft is done (to which Griffy exclaimed when Marty walked in the door from practice, "Daddy, I know what your Balentine pwesent is!" :) Wrong holiday, but sweet, none the less.  That boy can't keep a secret to save his life.  Good thing he's not exactly sure what it's called :) ).  The boys worked on more sun catchers and more perler bead creations and ate breakfast.  I cleaned up the mess and by that time Daddy was home and it was time to call Grandpa Jerry and wish him a very happy 70th birthday.  We love you, Grandpa!

Radiology appointment scheduled for this mommy Tuesday.  Smacked again with a fever, breathing issues and all kinds of nastiness again towards the end of the work day on Wednesday and it's still hanging on like gang busters today.  Nothing like tossing around the "c" word with your doctor early on a Friday afternoon.  I know it's not.  Just making sure that scar tissue on my lungs is indeed scar tissue and nothing else.  I really just want to be allowed to have a break down here.  To cry, throw a fit, take a whole week off and melt into this damn, f****** tired I constantly feel down to my bones, be as bitchy as I want to be and tell the whole world to just leave me alone.  But not this mommy.  I can't.  I'm just not allowed. Deep breaths, smile, one day at a time and one foot in front of the other.  Yes, I whine, I get discouraged, a smidge depressed, a bit irritated.  And please, don't ask me how I'm feeling, unless you really care or have time for more than "fine".  Snarky, yes, I know.  My whole damn body has been hurting for months and my splurges on myself are copays to my specialists every other week and fun new medications to help me breathe that have funky side affects that make other parts of me sick.  And now radiology.  Everything will be okay.  I know this.  Just another 'thing'.  I'm just losing patience and I just can't.  I'm the person who is always expected to have it.

And my Max leaves for basketball camp on Father's Day for an entire week in Iowa City.  I keep hearing from everyone how "good this will be for him."  Great.  So glad you think so.  But I'll miss the heck out of him, and he's my kid.  A week is a long time.  I've never been away from him for that long.  He's excited and a little nervous too.  He'll be at camp all day and then staying with Marty's parents at night.  I told him that he can call us anytime if he feels homesick.  I hope that request is accommodated. I know I'll be calling him :).  If nothing else, this whole experience will be a nice break away for him from Griffyn ;).  Who knows, maybe absence will make the heart grow fonder.  I know Griffyn will miss him terribly .  Max is his very favorite person in the whole world!

And prayers, please, for this precious little guy--Otto.  He's back in the NICU again.  Fighting all kinds of junk.  And we want him home again with his brother and his mommy and his daddy.  So, if you get a minute, give a shout up to heaven for this mighty mouse--for his lungs and the infections his little body is fighting.  He's taking his bottles and being brave.  We love him so much and his incredible family.  We know he'll be home soon!  Love you, Jessie, Ben, and big brother, Ross!  SO MUCH!!!  Praying for you all every single day.

The goal today is to attempt some yoga.  This mommy needs some mat time--however my ears, lungs, throat and nose are full--so we will see how that goes.  But it often helps.  It's just convincing myself to move when it all hurts and the room spins.  Laundry would be good too.  I'm sure it is over taking the laundry baskets by now.  It breeds on it's own.  Praying, praying and praying with the boys for Mr. O and thanking God for all of our blessings is a must today--my head and heart isn't in the greatest of places.  And G's t-ball game--if this rain holds off--getting his uniform ready.  It's one I will miss.  Sitting upright and breathing isn't working.  And I think of Otto who is also fighting para-influenza on top of all of his other yucks and pray some more for him--that's what started all this junk for me.  What a trooper he is!

Where ever you are in your day, may you find blessing there.  I know the sun isn't always shining and we can't always stop when we need to, but I hope and pray you can, at some point today, take the time you need to breathe.  Trying to keep it all together is hard.  I know I'm not doing a very good job of it--and if I could run away (my sad, sad, lonely running shoes), I would--but I'd pass out ;).  And if it's any consolation, I made my kids popcorn for lunch--two different kinds ;)--but popcorn none the less.  Max said it was the best lunch ever, so I really, really must improve my lunch game :).

One day at a time, with what I have, in that moment, giving what I have to give--even if it isn't much--I'll pat myself on the back for still trying.  I have not given up.  I have not come to that place where I can not get out of bed, where I refuse life, where I just can't try.  I'm doing something.  However pathetic that something is.  This is where I am, this is what I have, this is all I have right now.  And screaming?  Yes.  That's reserved for the inside and quietly--because goodness, we wouldn't want to wake the neighbors! ;) 

Love and hugs to you all.  Take encouragement wherever you can find it.  In God, in your children, and hopefully, my loves, in the hands and arms of each other....

"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 weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9,10

Father's Day

 

Trying to come up with an amazing craft for the boys to do for their daddy for Father’s Day (the yearly struggle) and I am once again smacked in the face by how very difficult this “holiday” is for me (the other yearly struggle).  Just to be completely honest and straight with ya’ll—it completely sucks.  I had a father, because we all technically have one, but I didn’t have a dad and I would have been a much less screwed up and emotionally broken person if I had been void of one completely.  It hurts a lot—not every day—but we’ll just say a lot—and this special day generally makes me sick because I can push back and suppress so much, ignore and pack away into neat little boxes marked “past” until this damn day shoves it all in my face with Hallmark commercials, gushing sentiments, and people reminiscing over things I never had.  I had a monster.  That is what I had.  And I really don't care what your opinion is or was on the subject.  We were his children and we lived it.  So unless you did, quite frankly, shut the hell up. 

I try not to be too big of a baby about it all.  I'm alive.  I didn't kill myself or over dose on drugs or alcohol.  I wasn't promiscuous or a raging party animal.  I retreated completely into myself, and I did some other unhealthy things to cope that I'll probably struggle with for the rest of my life and most likely be in an out of therapy forever, but in the grand scheme of things, for what it's worth, I fared pretty well.  I have a few diagnosis with names, but nothing too unusual from the general population.  I managed to get my shit together enough to become a fairly productive member of society.  I am not hubristic enough to think this was all me.  In fact, I know that none of it was.  If it was up to me, I would be nowhere, and other places I care not to think about.  It was all God, moving me, guiding me, sometimes out right lifting me and shoving me onward.  Scraping me off the ground that held my frame too well.  It was all Him--the only father I have really ever known.  For that I am amazingly blessed and remind myself daily that I have never really been fatherless or alone.  He was always there. 

But on this wonderfully magical little holiday where my beautiful boys profess their love to their daddy through cards and crafts and gifts and treats, my mind goes there.  What would it be like?  What the hell would it be like?  To have a daddy?  A daddy that loved you?  In an innocent way, a sweet and caring and respectful way--an encouraging 'wanting the best for you' way?  Or heck, in an "I give a shit about you at all" way?  What would that be like?  I truly can not imagine.  Daddy's little girl.  Daddy's little princess.  To be esteemed in such a way.  How precious that must be.  Instead of being the scum of the earth, a vessel born for the fires of hell, or simply an idiot taking up oxygen.  To be esteemed, respected, valued, even missed.......  I don't know what any of this feels like.  I never will.  And that's really okay.  There is a reason in it all--somewhere a reason.  And I am here, still living, still breathing, and it wasn't my fault.  It just wasn't.  And I have to forgive.  I have to.  Let go and forgive.  Because all that anger and pain is crushing.  The hardest people to forgive are the ones who never ask--but it's not a choice.  It's a command.  And by the grace of God, I can and I must.  

And I am hard on my husband.  I expect much from him.  I expect him to be an awesome Daddy, an amazing daddy--because I know how important that spot in my boy's heart is and how freaking FULL I want it to be--OVERFLOWING!!!  And I know how important my job as their mommy is and how important that spot in their hearts is as well and I want it to be so full they remember that love till they're past 100.  I don't want them to ever doubt it.  They will ALWAYS KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that their mommy and daddy will do anything for them and always be there for them and that they are our most coveted treasures from God.  Marty and I will go to our graves making sure this happens.  God gave us miracles.  Such a sacred, sacred honor to be a parent.  It is such a holy covenant between you and God. 

I remember after various "punishments", my father would loom over me while I was in the fetal position crying, but trying not to make any noise, and he would yell at me "You are so lucky to have parents like us!"  I, in those moments, would be in a numb state--numbing my mind and body to try to cope with all the crazy and the pain and to make it somewhat normal--so 'lucky' wasn't a feeling I was branching out to.  I look at my boys and wonder how in the world a parent could ever think like that -- aside from all the other 'how in the world' questions I have when I separate myself from the scenario and look at myself as another individual entity/child in that situation.  How lucky the child is?  No, how lucky WE are.  How lucky I am to be blessed with these beings from God, these blessings from heaven that he deemed my husband and I worthy enough to parent, love, instruct, and be responsible for.  The blessing is all ours.  Such a gift, truly a gift, and I thank the Lord above for my two amazing miracles every single day.

More than likely I will be copying the very same craft we made for our Father's Day gifts in preschool and make it with my boys as well.  No use in inventing something new at this point (and I'm really not in the mood for surfing Pinterest for hours on end).  The boys have a card for Daddy and have picked out some special treats and always enjoy making him breakfast in bed.  He will more than likely golf with his brothers and his dad and have a wonderful day all to himself.  And I will celebrate Father's day for the wonderful father my husband is to my two fabulous boys and try to ignore the rest of the schmaltz that goes with it that is null and void for me.  But, it will be lurking in the background and it will stink--and at some point, it may go away.  And I will thank the Lord for always being my Father, my divine Father--and put on a brave face for the day. 

But, I am truly blessed to see the joy and excitement in my boys eyes as they deliver all of their treasures to their daddy whom they love so much, bring him his tray of eggs and cinnamon and sugar toast in bed, smother him with kisses and tape up  home made signs all over the house.  It is HIS day and they love to tell him all about it.  That is truly beautiful.  And even more beautiful to me is knowing what incredible daddies THEY will be someday--if they so chose to be.  So, there is far more sunshine than gray--and I will keep moving on.  

Much love to you all

and

Happy Father's Day to all of you daddies who make this world a better place for your sons and daughters.  I will celebrate YOU too.

Sunshine...

First pool day!  Almost mid June-but we'll take it!!!

Such a beautiful day.  A perfectly, awesome, beautiful day--and I should be in bed as it is very late.  So very, very late and work comes so early--but as usual, I am rebelling against sleep.  No, I am NOT done with this day.  I'm not ready to let it go!

Yoga, amazing session, no soreness, had the energy for it and felt great.  Griffyn came in for kisses, to tell me he loved me, and to critique various moves, but I made it through the entire two hours.  Felt very accomplished.  Finally got my hair cut.  It had been months.  People kept asking me if I was growing it out.  No, in fact, I just hadn't had a second of time to myself to get it scheduled and taken care of.  It's hair is all.  But it sure felt good to get it done! 

Back home to the boys and our first pool day!  Here we are heading into the middle of June and our FIRST pool day.  We picked up Max's best friend and headed over for some fun in the sun (along with the rest of the town who had the same idea as we did).  Great seeing so many friends and especially hanging out with the Noland crew and catching up with Ava.  My darling, we are having a party just for you when that cast comes off!  I keep my promises! Griffyn was so happy he got to spend lots of time with his lovely Harper who has the most "bootiful eyes!".  I was not the best mother at reapplying the sunscreen and my boys are slightly pink this evening.  Much aloe was applied after bath time.  Poor children.  Bad, bad mommy. 

We came home and grilled out quickly, then all the boys went to watch G's t-ball game.  Great to see Shelly and Jordan and Lute again as we've been so busy we only seem to catch them at t-ball games anymore (and Hailee as well :) ).  G was pretty exhausted, but they all played well and Luther took a brave stop to the face.  What a trooper!!!  Always fun seeing the boys hit off pitches too!  Great job, Rockies!  Finally getting all of the kid's names down! :)  Such a fun bunch of boys!

Daddy pitching to Griffyn

My #5

Max and Aiden watching Griffyn's t-ball game

Tired and so not ready for a ten hour day of craziness tomorrow on little sleep, but this emotional roller coaster of meds that have just racked my body have made life a bit insane these past months upon months and I'm trying not to be too hard on myself and just go with it.  I have to, or I end up spending every night in tears.  Deep breaths and one day at a time.  Doing the best I can :).  Taking in the simple joys and praising God for all the great things, the good things, the beautiful things--and if I can only be still and quiet and if people take that for something else, I'm truly sorry.  Truly.  Day by day--that's how this family is plugging along and just trying to do best by my family in this moment that God is growing us and healing this mommy.  That's all I can do right now.

So today was special.  The warm sun, my happy boys, their giggles, their stinky sweat, the junk food, the happy abandonment of summer.  Now back to reality tomorrow :).  And God is there--in that tomorrow.  Ready to hold me and help me put one foot in front of the other, with lots of coffee, prednisone (just a few more days left), albuterol, and prayer.  Much love to you all and so thankful for such an understanding and gracious God and that he puts such wonderful people in our lives who can extend the same.  Life is rough, can be so tough, but there is so much joy to be had in so many little things--like chocolate pudding cups, French fries, and hot dogs off the grill :). (and yes, you probably really don't want to know how many hot dogs we've consumed this ball season ;))  and egg rolls from a friend this afternoon -- super yummy, Gloria :).  Lots of little joys (and really, mine aren't all food ;) ). 

The boys are drifting off to Jack Johnson's Curious George CD and Marty will be up watching movies and it's time for this momma to catch a nap before my alarm goes off much too early tomorrow.  Time for a talk with my Father above and some rest, for my soul, if not my body.  Much love all--even if I have a clumsy way of showing it...  <3

amen

Look for the silver lining...

My husband and I don't share many hobbies or similar interests, other than our boys, so it's rare we watch movies together or have much to talk about other than our children--which has worked out for us so far.  The boys keep us pretty darn busy.  We may need to work on that eventually (smile).  So, it is rare that we watch movies together.  His tastes are more shoot 'em up, action, adventure or just plain weird (the first movie we saw together was "Basketball Diaries" and I about ran for the hills---aaaaugh!) and I'm more of a Jane Austen, deeply moving or psychological thriller kind of girl--I like the ones that make you really think or inspire the living crap out of you.  So, when he asked me to watch a movie with him when he and my oldest got home from baseball tournaments this weekend, I was quite skeptical--but being sick, I can't do much but lay around, and the boys were playing Lego's together so nicely, and I was going to be in bed anyway, so what the heck...

And then it happened... Silver Linings Playbook...  A love story for people like me.  People who absolutely HATE novels and movies like "The Notebook" (and all things Nicholas Sparks, really) or phenomenon's like Christian Grey and all 50 Shades of his barf.  A movie about straight up life--messy, not always pretty, screwed up, yet lovely and appreciated for the good stuff--even the broken pieces.  I cried, cringed, laughed, and cried some more.  The only disconcerting scene was the banter over meds at a dinner party and my familiarity of each.  I'll just embrace it as part of my own journey (smile). 

I found comfort in the characters and in their description of their "crazy" as a "sixth sense" and had to laugh a few times at Bradley Cooper's character, Pat's, lack of filter and inability to lie.  I know that my husband often times gets frustrated with me in social situations with this and I often try to avoid them and get flat out uncomfortable as I can't stand the BS and gossip that goes on so many times (and with situations with his family as well).  I just can't do it.  I am who I am and we all should be able to be who we are and accepted for that divine creation--simple as that.  I wear my heart, and everything else, on my sleeve, and don't play games--unfortunately I get blind sided when other people do--because I simply can not wrap my head around it.  I can't stand fake, I can't stand "so did you hear?" or "did you know?" or "do you know so and so? oh, probably not, well..." and the older I get, the less and less time and tolerance I have for it.  We are people.  Flesh, bones, blood and souls--not fodder for games, gossip, and lies that rip people apart--and I'm just so sick of grown ups acting like--well, no--children behave better...  And I can not function in these social scenarios--I really stink at it--miserably fail--I require authentic, genuine people coming from places of good and acceptance or I can't deal--I shut down.  I have to walk away.  There is no reality in that for me.  Bring it straight. 

I've never been one of the cool kids, the in crowd, someone that's had it "all together", never claimed to and never will.  Who does?  And God bless you if you do.  Please share that.  I struggle daily and probably will for the rest of my life--with the smallest and most insignificant of things.  But I'm willing and blessed to struggle and try to be the best me God created me to be.  This movie is so delightful in that is showed others doing the same.  Struggling day to day, doing it and taking the positive from it.  There's no shame in it.  Go ahead and talk.  Tiffany's character is rough but I grew to love her.  Especially after she said this.  "There will always be a part of me that is dirty and sloppy, but I like that, just like all the other parts of myself. I can forgive. Can you say the same for yourself?"  Beautiful.  So beautiful.

And I've always clung to the fact that these things happen to us for a reason--these sad things, these bad things, these dark things, these hard things--and God gives them to us because he knows we can, because HE can use them in us for his glory and his purpose--even if that purpose is just reaching out to others, loving others more, being more accepting, more thoughtful, more understanding to others that have been there...  To say, give me your hand,  I know, honey, I know...  Even if it's just to hug someone when they feel like screaming, to be there for someone when they feel like life has no meaning and there could not possibly be any purpose to their life, even if it could just be to demand the truth from a family, from a world that so blatantly denies it even exists, to stand up for someone, for something when no one else will--because God has tested your faith muscles time and time again...  Even if it's a battle you fight with yourself every day to keep going, to silence those voices that tell you "no", to encourage those that think they are too small to be heard--even if it's just that...  then, that is enough...

And maybe us crazies really are the only ones that are sane.  Just maybe we are the ones that see things and feel things the most clearly, and the world just isn't ready for that much truth yet (smile)--just a hypothesis as it seems like everyone is always trying to shut us up or medicate us (wink).  I know I feel my feelings strongly.  I know I get depressed and think about things too much (it seems to me that not enough people are--about others anyway--we seem to have thoughts about ourselves covered--smile).  I know I may be socially awkward, and it was just fun to sit back and watch a movie, not just a movie, but a love story with characters full of the same.  It made me feel less, well, less alien. 

Life will never be easy for some of us, even when it is--because our dragons and demons are scars on our souls.  But our walk hasn't been easy either and although we're "over it" and although we have forgiven, even though we have not been asked to be forgiven, we are allowed to feel our pain--and thank God for the chance to feel anything at all. 

The movie ends like this, and I will leave you with this on this Sunday evening...

"The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday, that's guaranteed, and I can't begin to explain that, or the craziness inside myself and everybody else but guess what? Sunday is my favorite day again. I think of everything everyone did for me and I feel like a very lucky guy."

 

and I feel like a very lucky girl...

 

God bless, and please, let's just take care of each other...