The journey continues...

What a week, what a night, what a day... 

No sleep for Max or I again last night.  Up every one to two hours begging for his meds that he can only have every four hours.  Not wanting to cry because it hurts to cry.  Grabbing for me, and me feeling so helpless to do anything--all I can do is hold him and sing and hold him some more.  Forcing him to drink is horrendous--he ate jello today, and that's it.  Just a few bites of solid food once a day before he decides it's not worth the pain.  This has been a very long ordeal for him.  He was cheered up by a bath and the relaxing sounds of the ocean via our sleep machine and a surprise drop off of all kinds of goodies by Rhonda, Halle, and Mac (thanks so much, Ray family, this made Max's day and we all appreciate it so much! :)).

basket of goodies from the Ray family

Our lives have been broken down into four hour increments between codeine and Tylenol administration since this past Tuesday.  I keep a chart to remind myself what times I've given him what.  It all runs together after awhile.  I allowed myself a few pieces of pizza and a glass of wine after a very windy run today (nothing like grit in your teeth as you inhale dirt--gotta love country runnin' :)) and made some no bake chocolate/peanut butter cookies this afternoon.  It's so hard not being able to make treats for Max to make him feel better since he can't eat anything.  I thought the no bake cookies may be soft enough.  He had a few bites. I can't imagine how it must be for mother's that have terminally sick children.  I remind myself this too shall pass and in the great scheme of things, this is just a blip in the radar.  I pray for those families that have to deal with illness and visits to the surgeon/doctor on a routine basis with their children.  My heart goes out to them...
I've enjoyed Max and I's extensive reading times together and our snuggle times (although snuggles at night are sad--he's so miserable).  And I swear the kid is sweating out his pain meds--even after his bath he just has this medicinal smell to him.  He keeps smiling, he keeps saying please and thank you, he is one amazing kid. 
My other amazing little one has decided to be somewhat of a stinker pants lately.  Apparently G decided to tear the entire house apart when I was out running this afternoon.  Just had to get out of the house.  The sunshine felt good.  My legs are very sore, however.  Running outside is a bit different than running on the treadmill.  It was only my second run outside and my body has yet to adjust ;).
Marty just left to go out with some friends of ours to celebrate St. Patrick's day, and I just got Griff out of the bath tub and into some jammies.  G is watching "The Rescuers" on my bed, Max is watching basketball on the couch, and it looks like we'll all be camping out together again tonight.  Thankfully Griff can sleep through anything.  He's got a myriad of pillow pets, pillows, and blankets all over the floor while Max and I share our bed.  Marty sleeps in G's room.  Looks like I have lots of picking up to do and should probably get another load of laundry done.  Got all the bedding washed today.  Fresh sheets will be nice to sleep in tonight.  One of life's greatest simple pleasures to me--clean sheets!

My little author and artist with all of his sticky notes to communicate with us on our headboard.  They are all over our house :).  Spares him from the pain of talking (and his voice has changed a little)...

Max combats his pain by keeping busy drawing and writing books and reading.  I am trying my best to keep Griffyn away--he's lost a bit of the sweetness he was showing to Max and now it is quite clear that he is very jealous of all the attention Max is getting from Mommy and Daddy.  We got G a Lego Star Wars set (which Max so graciously put together for him) as his gift for being such a big helper and super little brother.  He is mad Max gets to sleep with mommy, but is benefiting from all the jello, pudding, ice cream, fudge bars, and Popsicles (that Max is quite sick of ;)) that abounds within these walls :).  He thinks Max is pretty lucky.  We keep trying to convince him otherwise...
I'm just tired, but not hurting like my nine year old.  So beautiful outside and he can't play--but we can still enjoy the sunshine.  He's missing baseball too. 
We truly appreciate all the cards and well wishes--mail from Aunt Tonya and Uncle Mike and his cousins Sierra, Caden, and Jacie and a card from Grandma and Grandpa Mitchell made his day yesterday.  The McDonald's and Target gift cards from you both were so sweet as well.  His card from his good buddy, Dalton ("go long soon, Max"--a picture of the two of them playing football :)), is hanging on our front door as well~~along with all the other pictures from friends.  Visits and gifts and treats from Gma and Gpa and Aunt Jen in Norwalk have made his day on more than one occasion, as well as a giant gift bag full of art supplies and McDonald's goodies from the Van Egdom crew (we will credit you guys when he publishes his first illustrated novel :)).  We really appreciate all the prayers, emails, phone calls, and face book messages as well.  His group hug send off from all his buddies at school was awesome.  See, boys CAN be thoughtful and sweet :).  I've always maintained that :).  Max feels very loved and our hearts are full.  Max prays for so many people--I think it has made him feel very blessed to have prayers going up for him this time around.  He sees, feels, and hears the love, all--endless thanks to each and every one of you!!!
Time to clean up the hurricane that went through this house while daddy watched basketball (I'm suspicious that it begins with the letter G), hound Max again about drinking water, and get our little sleep nest ready for the night of constant wake ups ;)--one of these days and nights this will all be a very distant memory.  Thankful Max has all of next week to recover as the boys have spring break.  Dr. Schulte promised me we would not regret this.  I'm holding him to that promise ;)...

sometimes a boy just needs his mommy

If anything, this whole experience has made Max and I even closer.  And he is so very thankful for everything:  every Popsicle, bowl of ice cream, foot rub, back rub, song, story, glass of water (should have bought stock in Mio drops--love them--highly recommend), and any time spent comforting him.  He amazes me.  Truly humbling...
Happy St. Pat's and if you see my husband, make sure he behaves ;)--he'll be the one decked out in all green Hawkeye gear, of course.  And he kind of looks like a giant leprechaun ;).  Take care, drive safe, and thanks again for being the wonderful folks you are.  Much love and thanks to y'all!

balloons from Aunt Jen and Gma and Gpa

Aunt Jen and Gma brought us treats from Fizz and we decided to have a pic nic.  Max managed to get a couple bites down of his favorite grilled chicken and cheese only sandwhich.  G inhaled his chicken burrito.  Giant QT slushie was what was for supper for Max.  He managed to get a few more bites of his yummy sandwhich down today.  Aunt Jen had her first walking taco ever!  Thanks for cheering up Max, Jen and Mom (and for the yummy dinner)! :)

Cuddle Mario pillow from Mommy and Daddy and Griffyn

No cake walk...

I've learned many things in my life--and one is, that every one's experience is different.  No two are exactly the same.  And even if a million people have walked the walk, their journey may not be the same as yours.  Don't bank on easy, don't bank on routine.  But, you can always bank on God.
As most of you know, Max had his tonsils and adenoids taken out today.  The little guy didn't sleep last night.  That much I expected.  He tried so hard, and ended up on our bedroom floor.  G ended up in our bed and Marty got the couch--but got our bed back after Griff rolled out of ours (nice big red bump and bruise on his face now).  We needed Daddy for a speed bump and safety net ;).
We left the house around 6:45 a.m.  I had heard the procedure went really quick (12 minutes to be exact) and fully expected to be home around 9 a.m.  We just got home--1:08 p.m. to be exact.  We were at the surgery center for over four hours.  Longest four hours of Max's and our lives, I believe.
We all left in pretty great spirits this morning.  Said a family prayer.  G was the most crabby.  I could tell Max was nervous, but what kid wouldn't be?  The unknown is scary--and especially one filled with lasers, drugs, and scabs and bleeding... 
We got there and checked in.  Busy place.  Dark.  Needed tea.  Always super friendly reception and staff.  I would highly recommend Lakeview to anyone.  G did well.  Got him his baggy full of cereal and vitamins--which he spilled all over the waiting room floor--but not before getting his vitamins down--yes! :)  Paid the over $400 facility fee, Marty got a giggle from the T and A description (Max's procedure read "T and A") "seems unappropriated" Marty said ;), and off to the prep room.
Amazing nurse.  Got Maxaroo all pimped out in his fancy blue gown (velcro, no ties--super sweet ;)) and answered all of our questions.  He started getting a bit whiter here and wanted to hold my hand.  Another family prayer.  A few more questions, and the nurse brought in a big wagon full of books (including chapter books--yay Max!) and stickers.  The boys each got to pick some out.  Griff had to have an ID bracelet too--duh ;0)...  "But I NOT detting my faot wipped out!" (just to clarify ;))
Ready to go.  Kind of.  The anesthesiologist then came in to talk to us.  Very sweet, calm, quiet voice.  More questions answered, more instructions.  She explained to Max in full detail what was going to happen, what he may feel, that he would then fall asleep.  He smiled and did his nervous little laugh tick and rocking back and forth motion the entire time.  I just wanted it all to be over for him--no more rooms or people to talk to--let's get this thing done! 
He was then ready to go back to surgery and we were to wait in the waiting room.  I wanted to go in with him so badly.  Tried to bribe the nurses with a candy bar. Didn't work.  I should have brought MORE! ;)  They said in about 20 minutes they'd call us back and he'd be in our arms.
20 minutes passed, and then another 20...  Marty pointed out it had been well over 40 minutes and we were going on an hour.  At this point, I started internally freaking out.  Something had to have gone wrong.  But they would have come and gotten us if something had gone wrong.  He was fine.  Maybe it was just taking a bit longer for him to wake up is all...
Meanwhile, the waiting room was my own personal hell of grown ups not watching their bratty children.  A few kids were throwing toys, books, cars, and another kid (well over six) kept coming up to Griffyn and Marty (who were playing "Cars" on the Ipad2) and banging on it (after wiping his snotty nose all over his hands, arms, and any body part available)--demanding them to play a different game and yelling "pow!!!" over and over.  I'm already stressed.  All of us in this room have a kid who is in surgery.  Watch your damn kids!!!  His parents just sat there reading magazines and gabbing on their cell phones.  I wanted to choke them--just till they were slightly purple is all.  Marty and I laughed when we came into the building and there was a no smoking sign right on top of a "no guns" sign.  I kind of got it after the waiting room apocalypse. 
Finally, another nurse came and got us out of purgatory.  Through the doors and down the hallway, I could hear my baby crying.  He wasn't supposed to by crying.  He was supposed to be sleeping, all nice and drugged up and sleeping. 
He was a mess.  A complete mess.  It scared Griffyn.  The nurse said he had been "very restless" when he woke up from the anesthetic and his IV had been ripped out--so they had to get it in again--and it took several pokes (as evident by all the bloody band aids on his hands and arms and bruises that looked like fingerprints) to get one back in.  That sucker was taped in tight.  Any of you who have problems getting IV's in know how very painful that is--especially in your hands! 
We were in that room, dripping pain meds, for over an hour.  Max wanted to die.   I know because he kept repeating it over and over and over again.  He was a rambling mess of chaotic thoughts and fears.  "The room was all wavy, mom, you know like water.  I couldn't breathe".  In short, he had a panic attack--he woke up too soon--in all his flailing ("they had to hold me down, mom, I felt so bad!!!  I'm so sorry!!!"  bruises now understood) and emotion his IV got ripped out--and it was so securely taped in to begin with, I can not imagine how badly that hurt.  He heard lots of beeping.  Nurses were trying to calm him down and get him back to "normal"/stable.  He felt bad.  He kept telling them he was "sorry for being such a jerk".  I kept telling him that is was okay.  "That medicine just made you feel things and you reacted to what you felt.  You weren't thinking with all of your brain, honey."  He replied,  "I didn't just feel them, mom, I saw my body."  "You saw your body?", I asked.  "Yes, I saw it--my arm was over here, and my body was over there!!!"  He said pointing frantically in the air.  "It was REAL!" I really wish I could have been back there...  How absolutely petrifying that must have been for him.  I would never have imagined to prep him for "wavy" hallucinations.  Seriously...
Then it became more tears, shallow rapid breathing and "I can't do this", followed by, "it's not a choice, honey, you have to and you can."  Followed by breaking my heart, "I was crying for you mom and I wanted you so bad. I was crying for you and you didn't come!"  Followed by holding his hand (not being able to rub his arms as they were all bandaged and taped up) and letting him squeeze my hands as hard as he could.  I failed.  I promised I'd always be there for him.  I wasn't.  Huge fail.  Gaping whole, chasm wider than the deepest pit fail...  I know it's unrealistic and against all protocol, but I wish they would have come and gotten me.  I know it's there job and they see it all--but it hurt to feel like I had let my oldest angel down so hard.  It would have done NO good for them to get me.  ZERO benefit.  They know their job and are fantastic at it.  I know this.  If anything, it would have only made it worse.  They would have had TWO completely hysterical and irrational people on their hands!
He kept feeling like he was going to throw up--crying, border line screaming.  An hour of this.  Yes, tears for me too.  It completely sucked.  Marty was quiet.  Marty is never quiet. Griff thought Max was going to die.  Here the Ipad2 came in handy again.  Games and movies seem to side stream possible negative thoughts of your brother's well being.  Griff looked at me, sighed heavily and said, "Momma, dis is weally hard on yittle bruvvers". 
Max just wanted to go home.  We all did.  He looked way too big for that arm chair.  And it was so COLD.  He had blankets on and the chair was heated, but I had my hood on and was wrapped up tight(and I am fully aware of how much I looked like Justin Bieber, thank you, honey ;)).  Finally we got the clear.  I have NEVER been so excited to go HOME!!!  Time to go get some pain meds and get the boys some food!!!  Max hadn't had anything to eat since 8 p.m. the night before--G had, but he was STARVING too.  Walgreens told us 30 minutes (it ended up taking 47, Marty started his watch as we were going to find the nearest McDonalds for shakes for the boys).  The shake made him feel like he was going to puke again, and I was very thankful for the Target plastic bag we had in the van.  Griff had no problem eating HIS ice cream and cheeseburger.  Marty then stopped and got Max a slushie.  That seemed to go down a little better.  Apparently codeine upsets the stomach too. 
What a ride.  I am completely sincere when I say that giving birth was easier than that.  Griffyn was very good.  I had no idea it would be that long or that traumatic--or we would have asked Colleen for an extra day.  G got a "yego guy" out of the deal, along with his ice cream, so he's "dood".  And I pray to God he NEVER has to get his tonsils and adenoids out--because I'm pretty sure he's scarred for life...  I have some tea.  The boys are resting.  I really want to, but I can't.  Maybe I should try the codeine ;)...
So to those of you beginning the tonsil journey with an older child, I will never tell you it's easy.  I will hope it is, for your kid and your sake, but I will never make it out to be a cake walk.  There is no "cake" involved, and the ice cream that follows will most likely be regurgitated...
We are SO GRATEFUL and THANKFUL for all the sweet messages, notes, cards, gifts and prayers.  Again, we have the most loving and thoughtful friends.  We love you all.  Max is worried about getting thank you's out in time, but I told him he had an extra week or so :).  Mom and Stace, that's why he HAD to call you last night.  He knew he wouldn't have a voice today.  :)  We are also very thankful for Dr. Schulte, the best surgeon, and all the lovely and wonderful staff at Lakeview Surgery center.  Thanks for taking such great care of our greatest treasures.  You guys are amazing!!! 
Glad we are all home and that was the longest morning and afternoon, but we are so happy to be snuggled up in sunshine here on Lyle Murphy.  I will crash at some point.  But right now, Griffyn wants chocolate milk and a movie--and I will more than oblige him.  God bless, and much love to you all on this beautiful day!  We'll be here, just happily healing... :)

early morning with no sleep the night before~my Maxaroo before leaving for surgery...

The grey in the day...

It has been a busy, busy weekend for the Mitchell family. 

Friday night, we went and watched Daddy play some ball as part of a fund raiser where the students play the faculty.  We had fun cheering the ladies and girls on in volleyball and the men and boys in basketball.  Saturday was cleaning day--the house that is--top to bottom--dusting, vacuuming, laundry, bathrooms--the gamut of things that had been left undone by a momma that had been sick for far too long.  It had been driving me absolutely crazy!!!  My husband got our taxes done.  His first time using turbo tax, as our accountant raises his fee each and every year for the ten minutes it takes him to do our taxes annually.  My brave husband decided to give it a go himself.  How hard could it be?  After three hours at the computer, door shut--a few exasperating sighs coming through (really, they want to know the WEIGHT of our vehicles?)--he came out triumphant!!!  Thank you, honey.  I am now convinced that there is nothing you can not do (besides eat a fruit or a vegetable ;)).  We now have a new accountant :)!  Again, many thanks Marty!
Max had baseball (practice outside--YAY!), and afterwards we rode along and did some of Daddy's cross mark stores with him.  We had a Mexican banquet at Viva La Bamba (sooooooo good and in which we all ate entirely too much), then went to watch "The Lorax" and continue to fill our bellies up with pop corn and pop--followed by ice cream at home.  I love these times with my boys.  A late night, made even later by the hour we lost by "springing ahead".  
Max has baseball again today.  And I am busy doing laundry and cooking and fretting just a bit.  The boys and I made several loaves of "everything but the kitchen sink banana bread" or "clean out the fridge banana bread" this morning.  The boys picks were cream cheese, chocolate peanut butter sauce from pampered chef (which is really more like fudge), chocolate chips, and sprinkles.  It is really, really good.  I think we remembered to put bananas in it ;)...
Cut up lots and lots of potatoes and cheesy potato soup is bubbling in the crock pot for supper tonight.  Cheddar, Velveeta, Jack, sour cream, cream in general, oh and lots of potatoes.  G had fun adding the parsley flakes and sweet basil.  He had fun "melling" the onion as wells.  He enjoys cooking with things that have strong smells.  His nose may be broken...
Comfort food.  I always turn to it.  May not be the best way to combat stress and anxiety, but it sure makes the house smell good :).  The five pounds I lost after being sick will all be back on tomorrow after this weekend, I guarantee ;). 

The cause for this comfort food extravaganza and fretting brain is that Max has his tonsils and adenoids (although we learned that there is just one adenoid and it is in fact, a third tonsil) taken out Tuesday.  Monday, as in tomorrow, begins at 4:30 a.m.  Work my ten hour day, pick up G, register G for preschool (gulp--a whole round of emotions going on with that as well--he'll have so much fun--I just am not ready for him to be OLD ENOUGH to go just yet), Max's conference with Mrs. Kennedy, then home to collapse.  Bright and early Tuesday we will begin as we have to be at Lakeview for Max's surgery before 7:30 a.m.  Happy it's early.   Who has time to think about anything when you're running on fumes? 
I've, ironically, had a few of my preschool kids just have the procedure done.  One of my little guys said to me, voice lowered in hushed seriousness, "Miss Angie, I almost died" then paused for dramatic effect before pepping up and smiling, "AND I got lots and lots of ice cream!!!".  So, it seems to really, really stink at first, then get better after three to four days.  All of the kiddos that I know that have had it done have been little, so I'm not too sure how my almost ten year old will do.  We know the surgeon very well as he put sets of tubes in both boys' ears and we know Max is in his and God's very capable hands.  Still, I'm a momma, I worry.  I know I shouldn't and it does no good--but I do...  That's just how it goes...

This boy is pretty special and pretty amazing.  He also is a worrier like me, so I keep it inside and just bake and make soup ;).  We were reading together this morning (can't tell you how much I love this quiet time with my big guy) and he kept stopping and restarting his timer (he reads so many minutes a day for school) because he couldn't remember what he had just read.  I could not convince him that he didn't need to start his time over and over and over again --he had indeed been reading--and that he just needed to concentrate a little harder.  He told me he couldn't "focus" because he couldn't stop thinking about Tuesday.  "I just can't stop thinking about it, so I can't remember anything."  Worry and anxiety--proof positive it kills our brain cells...
He's not that worried about the actual surgery part.  His biggest concern is waking up.  He's very scared of that part.  I completely understand.  I kept telling him that we would all be there for him when he does wake up, he can have Mom and Dad's bedroom when he gets home all week so he can have a big bed and TV and some peace and quiet from G (who keeps taunting him that he's doing to "det your foat wipped out").  He'll have some medicine from the doctor for pain, and we'll do everything we can to make him comfortable, but yes--it IS going to hurt.  It might hurt a lot.  But, you will get through it.  I promise...
I've been advised that the night hours are the worst and to up the codeine dose just a smidgen for those occasions those first three evenings--just so he can get some rest.  I do not plan on getting any sleep.  My body is used to this.  The worst part will be to see my oldest baby boy in so much pain.  It will be so hard to see him hurt, but I keep reminding myself--and him--that the benefits of having this done will far out weigh the few weeks of pain.  He can do it, I can do it--and we will discover new and exciting flavors of ice cream together :).  I may even agree to watch "Tron" with him again ;).  "Tin Tin" comes out on Tuesday, Grandma's, if anyone is interested in picking that up for him.  Anything to make the hours pass by a little less tediously would be lovely...
So back to the menial tasks of folding and putting away laundry, getting ready for our marathon of a day tomorrow, and possibly chasing the grey away in this day (where are you, sunshine?) with some happy times with these precious boys of mine.  Any time we're together is enough sunshine for me.   Especially if it involves yummy food and cuddles :).  I am so proud of this little crew--and that my boys know that no matter what life throws at us--we have the good Lord above and the haven of this family.  Even with one less set of tonsils (and adenoid) in this house ;). 

Keep moving forward...

Been so emotional today (dear friends, don't laugh~~I know this is me most days).  Just feeling things a lot, praying lots, thinking lots...

About a special friend who is fighting the fight of her life~
cancer... 

Please keep her and her family in your prayers.  I have known Nicole since her oldest daughter was a year old~~eight or nine years now~~time goes by so fast and I seem to have lost count.  Max and Paige were in preschool together.  She is one of those magnificent people who has a true servant's heart.  There aren't many people like that in this world any more.  And the amazing thing is she continues to serve and love and spoil us all while caring for her three children (the youngest being three), working a demanding job, and currently going through radiation (this woman has been through it all~~there is no medal or trophy big enough).  This lovely  woman baked the entire upstairs (I'll call it the preschool wing of our building) the most delicious chocolate chip cookies I had even eaten in the midst of the crazy (and the new normal) that is her life right now.  That's A LOT of cookies...  (and lots of grateful teachers).  She continues to give all of us the cutest, most thoughtful, and most creative gifts for every "holiday" imaginable.  She is super woman.  Cancer has not taken that from her...  I have come to believe that nothing could!
I am deeply humbled by her positive attitude, her patience, her courage, her sense of humor, and her enormous heart.  I love her smile, her creativity, the mischief behind her eyes, her laugh, her wit, her spirit--and her adorable children.  She is forever in our family's thoughts and prayers.  She is, quite simply, my role model.  She doesn't complain when she has SO MUCH she could complain about.  She continues to fight, to count her blessings, and she continues to smile.  I hope that some day I can repay her for all the goodness, kindness, and thoughtfulness she has shown me.  She keeps moving forward.  She keeps looking up.  What is my measly excuse?  

The Mighty McComas Family

If you could do me a favor and vote for this courageous woman on www.pinkwell.org under the name "Katie's Crusaders", I would appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.  There is none more deserving and this would greatly help this awesome family.  You can vote each and every day until May.  It takes all of two seconds to do something that may give someone just a bit more hope, a bit more peace, a little glimmer of something good... 
I have never hated a disease so much in my life, nor have I seen a woman fight it with such grace.  We love you, you mighty McComas crew, and our prayers, our thoughts, and our hopes are with you always.  Many, many hugs and blessings to you all!

Needing some advice...

Dear Blogging Friends,
So I'm reaching out to my blogging family as this winter has hit the boys and I hard with our share of cooties and germs--and we are now resistant to two forms of antibiotic. 
Does anyone have a miracle cure for germs?  Just kidding... :)
What I would like to know is if anyone has any home remedies, holistic "cures" that would pump up our immune systems and keep us a tad healthier as we venture into spring.  The boys take a multivitamin and extra C every morning and I won't bore you with the list of vitamins ands scripts I'm on. 
It's so overwhelming out there in the health field, so I would welcome anything you've tried, loved, and has worked for your family.
With much appreciation,
me :)

Always learning...

Sick again, this momma.  Not able to do much, and my house is a reflection of that.  Laundry piling up, toys every where, kitchen counter tops full.  I get easily discouraged when forced to rest and I am not able to be the force of organized nature I usually am (smile).  Kleenex are not as fun of a bed time companion as snuggles with my boys.  Better days ahead.  If nothing else, it has left me time for reflection.  Some fever thoughts, if you will...
And I have unfortunately begun to realize that I am far too proud.  Much , much too proud.  I let it get in the way sometimes.  It leads to stubbornness and blindness to another person's point of view.  I get all worked up and I can't just let go.  I have to prove, prove and prove myself (often times TO myself) again and again.  I find myself screaming in my head, "you don't know what I've been through to get to this place--how dare you challenge or judge me?"!  It makes me blind to good intentions, to true concern, to even the ambiguous word love (because if it doesn't fit my definition, it isn't real love~~yes, that's how proud I am).
I've always had to fight for my thoughts (others may call it sanity-smile) and convictions--and the right to have them.  I've always, growing up, been told I was wrong--any thoughts or feelings that came independently of some one's dictation were pure idiocy.  I spent years trying to prove my intellect, but it didn't matter.  All the straight A's, scholarships, awards, honors were nothing--not acknowledged and not accepted as anything of remote value.  I was still a worthless moron.  One of the most painful moments of graduation from Simpson (besides my parents not showing up for honors convocation and arriving to graduation over half an hour late) was just waiting for that, "I'm so proud of you" moment to happen.  I had dreamed of this day for so long!  It never did.  One of my professors and greatest inspirations came up to me and gave me a huge hug, and after a great many minutes, looked at my parents and said, "aren't you SO PROUD of this girl!?!"  My father just smiled incredulously and said nothing.  I knew I was still nothing more than a speck of dirt on the side walk that didn't deserve to be there, but rather swept up and thrown out with the garbage.  It took me a LONG time to realize NOTHING I ever did would be good enough or would earn me any respect.  I would always be a less than sign...  But, I had a heart, I had the spirit of God in me, and I had a conscience--no matter how hard someone tried to beat it out of me--I felt otherwise.  I felt like I was worth something.  I held on.  And still do. 
I really need to "unlearn" this behavior.  It turns me into someone I don't want to be and everything becomes a challenge.  It is very unbecoming and certainly NOT Christ like.  It saps my patience, my understanding--and makes me a raging judgement monster.  I want what's best.  But sometimes I don't listen and sound off when I should be still. 
Looking back at these rages of obsessive zeal, of "how could you think that's" and harsh critiques of intellect and seeing myself in this light makes me want to vomit.  It's a very unpleasant irony of sorts.  Silent all these years, I've found my voice--and I often times don't know how to stop, shut it off, and walk away. 
I will ALWAYS be a fighter inside.  After years and years of my "fight or flight" response being tested and choosing the proceeding, it's something that is really hard for me to shake.  I will fight for any sense of moral justice I see lacking (and we all know how much of that is out there due to prejudice and inequalities all around us), for my kids, my family, my friends (who are also my family), and for anyone or thing that seems to need a voice.  Sometimes it is valiant, yes--and other times just stupid--and a complete waste of energy.  I need to learn when  it's appropriate and when it's not.  Like an addict, I'm all or nothing.  I'll go from zero to three sixty if I feel like anyone is being taken advantage of--often without seeing, hearing, or waiting two seconds for the bigger picture.  Patience.  I need some. 
And the very sad part of this is that is shows tremendous lack of faith on my part.  If I truly trusted God like I should, I wouldn't feel so defensive or feel like I have to take it all upon myself.  I would trust in His perfect timing.
It's been a rough couple weeks.  The stresses and stuff of life get to be a lot for all of us.  My worries play out in my dreams.  I don't sleep.  I've had a week of panic attacks, dizziness, sweats that made me wonder if I was having a heart attack~~all anxiety~~all stress~~all my body's way of fighting.  It never stops...  And then I end up here--sick...
So, I take deep breaths, I pray, I meditate on God's word, I remind myself that "what ever happens in this day, this hour, this minute~~God is already there."  And I will learn that I don't always have to be loud, as I once learned to recover from perpetual silence.  I will learn to trust that some people are out for other's good (been disappointed far too many times) and that it's not MY job to be the justice police, and that I don't always know everything--there's usually more to the story. 
And that when something is blatantly wrong, then yes, I'll grab my fog horn and boxing gloves and sound off.  But when change appears to be non-existent--I can't beat my head against that wall all by myself without getting a concussion and losing a few brain cells in the process.  I sometimes just have to have faith and trust in the good Lord above and leave it in his very capable hands.  It's not giving up--it's letting go and letting God take the wheel before I crash...
This world is a GIANT mess.  Children get the brunt of that--women get the brunt of that.  God expects me to do my best each and every day--that is all--and that is enough.  As my mind rages and my blood boils on with the statistics of abuse and violence against women and children and our country's seeming acceptance through complacency regarding these issues (as apparent by our cultures take on what is even considered "entertainment" in this nation), I have to unclench my fists and instead fold them in prayer.  Anger makes me stupid.  Prayer humbles me and gives me focus, gives me the only real power I truly have~~a voice to the creator in the midst of the madness... 
Stop, breathe, listen, pray, repeat...

Peanut butter popcorn, a winter snack favorite...

Peanut Butter Popcorn

A winter's snow day!  Max still had basketball, but we enjoyed some family fun in the snow and some delicious snacks as well--which just seems to go hand in hand with snow days at our house.  This is the recipe for peanut butter popcorn.  My mom made this for us as kids, and although there are other recipes out there--this one is the BEST and the GOOIEST!  I use air popped popcorn as microwave is never as good...  One large Tupperware bowl full of popcorn.  So easy, and best served warm!

Peanut Butter Popcorn:
(bring to a rolling boil on stove top--I use medium heat)

• 1/2 cup of sugar
• 1/2 cup light corn syrup or honey

(remove from heat)

add the following

• 1/2 cup peanut butter (we like creamy Jiff best)
• 1/2 tsp vanilla (I use a smidge more)

pour over popcorn and stir to coat

Best served after a fun day of playing in the snow~along with a steaming cup of hot coco brimming with marshmallows, of course.  This is Frosty.  He was created with much love and the occasional outbreak of a few snowball fights ;)...