Argh mateys!

Harris has been seeing a pediatric eye doctor for his lazy eye (yeah, he got it from me) for the last year or so. Said lazy eye keeps stumping said doctor because it keeps changing directions (sometimes in and sometimes out) and his vision keeps changing in this eye. Well, the closest thing to a decision that the doctor has offered me is to patch Harris for two hours a day for the next three months and then he should be a candidate for surgery. I wore a patch, and I had the same surgery in fifth grade. The best part is that a month or two before Harris was given the patching RX, he got WAY into pirates! Works out good!

Official Biz-niz!

I am arranging meals for Emily Mcarthur who just had a baby right before Christmas. M,T,W and Thu of next week are available and the meal can be dropped off on or before 6pm. Please let me know if you are interested/able!! Thanks!

p.s.- Sorry if this is irritating or breaks all the blog ettiquette rules but I figure since I have no email skills and only know how to email one person at a time, this is my best solution besides individually calling people up which is really putting them on the spot! This way anyone who is in a position to do this particular brand of service in this particular week of their lives can and all others don't even need to respond! Thank you guys! Spread the word if you feel so inclined.

Gettin' There!

Okay. So I went to the drug dealer's yesterday. I prayed, as usual, that I would say what was needed in a way he would understand and that we would both be guided to the right treatments. I told him how my anxiety has improved drastically. I told him it's now a 3 instead of a 10. Then I told him that while the anxiety has moved to stage right, now my OCD has taken center stage. This is pretty normal, that once one illness is under control another pops up for attention. These illnesses are in the same vein and are contolled by the same brain chemical. Lack of Seretonin has always been my key issue. I don't sruggle too much with depression (I said, not too much!) and thanks to my HORRIBLE Hulk incident I no longer have to convince myself that ADD is the reason for all my woes. See, I always thought I was forgetful, scatterbrained etc., etc., due to ADD. But it turns out my brain was always stuck in obsessive looping thoughts and it was also trying to deal with level ten anxiety all the time so I couldn't keep my thoughts/life together.


Okay, now that I have bored you with the mumbo jumbo... He's upping one of my meds to help it address the OCD. The same drugs treating my anxiety will treat the OCD just using higher dosages. Also, he still may put me on a touch of Ritalin to help me hone my thoughts and focus more although he nor I believe I have ADD. This drug and the like can be helpful to people even without ADD contrary to popular belief. P.S.-Ritalin is a much lighter stimualant than the stuff I was taking as the Hulk.


Finally! I'm seeing this process all the way through and it's paying off! I'm almost to the fine tuning stage! Then I should be on the perfect mix for my chemical brain makeup and all will be well til' the drug companies screw with stuff so they can become richer. Okay, that doom and gloom thinking is my level 3 anxiety talkin'!
Here's to mental wellness! It's worth the long, hard road! And it's much faster when you stay on that road no matter how bumpy it gets!

Hubby Tag

1. He's sitting in front of the tv. What's on the screen?
Football or UFC

2. You are out to eat. What dressing does he get on his salad?
Ranch, ranch and more ranch.

3. What's one food he doesn't like?
Most seafood

4. You go out to a bar. What does he drink first?
Old Jared: whiskey sour New Jared: virgin daquari

5. Where did he go to high school?
Rigby High School in Idaho

6. If he were to collect anything, what would it be?
cell phones

7. What shoe size does he wear?
9 1/2. I don't know how he doesn't fall over!

8. What is his favorite type of sandwich?
B.L.T.

9. What would he eat every day if he could?
Jamba Juice....Peach Pleasure. I guess that's drinking though.

10. What would he never wear?
The color pink.

11. What is his favorite sports team?
Denver Broncos

12. What is something you do that he wishes you didn't do so much?
interrupt him

13. How many states has he lived in?
Four- Idaho, Wyoming, Tennessee, and Texas

14. What is his heritage?
German fo sho.

15. You bake him a cake for his birthday. What kind of cake would it be?
He hates cake, so I would buy him Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. He's addicted.

16. Did he play sports in high school?
Football.

17. What could he spend hours doing?
Watching football.

Done like Dinna!!!!!!

I'm done with all my friggin' Christmas shopping! Just an hour before the sabbath. I'm so tired, and my feet are sore, but I feel so happy that it's done. And so help me, if next week finds me at Wal-mart for ANY reason.........!

Tha good, Tha bad, and Tha dirty!

The good news is I finally got that haircut I've been talkin' about and I like it pretty good! I at least have less hair to deal with and that is always my preference. But check with me tomorrow when it gets done by me instead of Natasha.


The bad news is Faith isn't speaking to me. I got onto her late last night (for good reason!) before I left her at Sarah's to spend the night. This included a time-out at Sarah's and a double chore when she got home today. When I picked her up tonight she tolerated me long enough to get the scoop on who attended her cousin Matthew's play at the middle school. Finding out the boy she likes was there prompted her to blame me for her having not chosen to attend. Then she went straight to the silent treatment. When we got home, she went grudgingly to her double chore duty and then holed up in her room. When I called her for prayers she scowled with the best of em' and then when I said,"Goodnight, I love you." I got the "no response" response. Nice. I'm seriously going to start a support group for mothers of tweens.


The dirty news is, I'm dirty. I'm just too nasty, crude and crass! I am actually getting worse as my dear sister so lovingly pointed out. She also informed me I sound way too much like Jared lately. I am not stealing his material! I won "Most Wittiest" in High School! ME! Not Jared! ME! But anyway, lately I am noticing that I am making even the crudest of my friends and family members blush. Those who have been exposed to my evil ways for years are like, "Did she just say that?" And I really need to stop! But I hardly know where to begin? How do you change the way your brain works? How do you get it out of the gutter when that is precisely where it has resided for the better part of 30 years? I know it has to be done but I'm scared I will never laugh again! These are the things that make me laugh! What do I do? See? That was funny. I almost said doo doo.

Off the Chiz-ain Dinner Par-tay!!!!

I thought this was a fun idea so thank you Laura. Here's the ten fictional people I would invite to my dinner party.

1) Captain von Trapp--I love this guy so much I sometimes call Jared Captain von Pabst just to play out my fantasies a bit.
2) Dog the Bounty Hunter--Yeah. Just try to read one page of his autobiography and tell me you don't love this guy. And I'd like him to bring his wife and all his kiddos.
3) John Travolta's character in hairspray. "She" is hilarious!
4) Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. Yeah, I know he's moody and even violent but he's fine and I love him!
5) Mary Poppins. I want Julie Andrews at my party but only as someone the captain doesn't love because I only want him lovin' on me!
6) Jackie Chan. He isn't fictional but I once had a dream that he was my donut-delivery man and we made out hard-core! Now I'm in love. I'm pretty sure I'd fall in love with anyone who was delivering me donuts!
7) Homer Simpson. Seriously, is anyone funnier? But I'll have to sit him at the opposite end of the table from Jackie Chan. "Hey! Those are my donuts!"
8) Martha Stewart. She is pure fiction. No one can be like that fereel. And I want her to cook the whole meal for this party which I'm sure she will because, well, my cooking would never be up to her ridiculous standard!
9) Lady Elaine Fairchild. Remember her from Mister Rogers? When I was little I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! I'd like to see how she aged. Hopefully she's not dead.
10) Marty McFly. I'd love him to teach me how to hitch a ride with my skateboard on the back of a truck. And I wouldn't mind going "Back to the Future"!

Mary Alice Green Redd Grover

After church today I went with my former neighbor, Ruthie to the nursing home to visit her mother-in-law, Mary. When I lived next door to them Mary was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. She could physically do all things for herself and mentally could be categorized as just forgetful. Now, she can do nothing physically for herself and cannot be understood when she talks. She doesn't recognize her own family members, much less me, but it warms my heart to see her and remember the many hours we spent together laughing and talking as neighbors.
This made me think of my own mother who I have felt a deeper, more intense level of gratitude for lately.

There's so much to choose from but if ya'll would humor me I'd like to share a small list of what makes Mary Alice Sr. (she hates that!) a most magnificent mother.

1. Anytime I call her and say, "What are you doin' today?" She answers,"Nothin' why?" This is code for "There's plenty I should be doing but none of it is more important than what you're about to ask me for help with."

2. She has eternal perspective ALL OF THE TIME. I don't even think it's possible for her to see things in a temporal way, even for a second. She's always reminding me of the big picture that is at work in all of our lives, including those of my children. This is a tremendous help.

3. She thinks I'm funny. And nothing brings me greater pleasure than making her laugh.

4. She chose the gospel. She joined the church as a nineteen year old. She was the first in her family to do so. She left a situation that was harmful to her three daughters and became a single mother which could not have been easy. She diligently took us to church, read the scriptures and prayed with us, and held weekly family home evenings. This provided us with a joyful childhood filled with the light of the gospel.

5. She chose Sam Grover. He is a wonderful man who honors his priesthood and serves his loved ones diligently. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if my mom had ended up staying with my "other" dad. I think I know the answer and I don't think it's pretty. She often feels guilt for having married said father and then divorcing and remarrying. She feels there were hardships in our lives that could have been avoided had she got it right the first time. I believe it all occured just as it should have according to the Lord's master plan for us. I'm grateful for all of it, even the hard parts. The family relationships we enjoy now are like heaven on earth and part of the legacy she has created.


I'm grateful the Lord saw fit to bless me with Mary Alice Green Redd Grover for my mother. If I manage to be even half the mother she is, there's hope for me yet!

Sweet Mesquite--BOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So last night was girl's night out and the only good thing about it (and it was really good!) was the company. We had so much fun and missed all who were missing.
But that Sweet Mesquite is a crap-hole! Andrea Dent got the limpest, saddest onion rings $4.00 ever bought! Laura Clutter's kid's meal looked like it was an infant's meal! I've never in my life seen chicken tenders that flat! Those of us with halfway decent food paid way too much for it and had to put up with the frowns and scowls from those who sold it to us. When Laura and Leslie went to the counter to claim their well-deserved "I ate all my food" ice-cream cones, the guy gave them the stink eye the ENTIRE time he filled the 10 cent sugar cones with as little soft-serve as he could get away with! So needless to say it left a bad taste in all of our mouths!
Well, we pow-wowed and decided, "NO MAS'!" We're not gonna take it!! At least not sittin' down!" So, I gave fair warning to all the ladies who wanted to make a B-line for the exit and I approached the counter, with Laura watchin' my back. I told em' all about their crappy food and their crappy service and their crappy crap! And how do you think they responded? Quite crappily.
So, we have officially put not-so-Sweet-Mesquite on the black list. Hopefully that's okay with the rest of the ladies. We put our heads together and came up with some other fun places we could go and 9'ers is still a favorite.
The only thing left to do is to seal the deal by egg-ing Sweet Mesquite!!! Anybody on their way to Wal-Mart?

The Truth

Faith hates me.

Risky Biz-nis!!!!

Okay. I am still not at my mental wellness destination. I'm actually out of one of my meds and out of money until Tuesday but I'm sure I can scrape up enough for what I need. So my anxiety is up somewhat cuz I'm getting the help of one med rather than two. It's kinda eye-opening to remember how much anxiety I was living with every day and I didn't even know it! But now I'm not quite as crazy as back then, but I'm feeling under-stimulated and EXTREMELY impulsive! I'm cramming donuts by the dozen down my jaw, considering adopting a 47-year-old autistic man featured in People magazine, wishing I had a credit card for a couple of augmentations (ya know what I'm talkin' bout'!). I also want a black baby, a motorcycle and a labradoodle. So, I'm trying to keep it all under control and only act on the impulses with few lasting effects. So, no surprise, the haircut addict is getting a new haircut. (I actually sat on the bathroom counter the other night and clipped my own "wings"). Above is the one I have chosen. I am going to scrounge the moolah and go today cuz it's women's day at Fantastic Sam's, therefore--10 bucks off. I can guarantee three things in advance:

1. I will not look like Sienna Miller.

2. I will hate it.

3. I will never do it, except on Sunday.

Wish me luck! Comments will be accepted but not regarded at this time.

Praise to "Tha Man"!

This is Papaw, a.k.a the crazy old man from China. While we grandkids thought that title and accompanying song were fitting for him, he was actually a crazy old man from Amarillo. Something in the water there turned all his teeth brown when he was a boy, and this is one of the features I love and miss the most. That, and his enduring humor. He was always cracking jokes and wanting to make us laugh. Some of our laughs were courtesy laughs, but our smiles were always genuine. He was a great, great man. He was also the king of Thanksgiving! There were always helpful and willing hands nearby to do as he instructed (my mom) but he really did just about all of the cooking. He made a cornbread stuffing from scratch that is ri-dunk-ulous! His turkey was bought fresh every year from a fancy, shmancy downtown supermarket and he would brine it for 24 hours. There was never enough of that turkey! He made pies, potatoes, giblet gravy (he was the only one who would eat that!) and so much more. As the years wore on and we became adults we started to think about how our wonderful feast would be quite affected by his not being there. We would tell him our concerns! "Pap, what the heck are we gonna do on Thanksgiving when you're gone!" This would tickle him immensely. He would tell us that we were gonna be mighty hungry! So then a vote of sorts was taken (this means Boss Hogg spoke) and it was determined that I would learn the whole meal under Papaw's watchful eye. (They all know I relish this honor. Plus, my mom really could do the whole meal but she humors me.) So I began learning. He patiently taught me and made lots of not-that-funny jokes along the way. But the greatest lesson I learned from him was what took place after the whole meal was cooked and served. He would wait until everyone had a full plate and was eating and he would just sit and watch. He wouldn't even get his food for the first fifteen minutes! And as everyone enjoyed the fruits of his labor he sat there with the biggest, brown grin you ever saw! This will be our first Thanksgiving without him.
We'll miss you Pappy. I hope I do ya proud!

Ethan informed me yesterday that he is going through puberty. When pressed for info as to why he thinks this he said, "Because I keep craving cocoa puffs."

CONFESSIONS

1) I spent $250.00 last night at the new Wal-mart.

2) I haven't been to the dentist since I was 17. (And I'm thirty people!)

3) I took $3.00 in change from Faith's piggy bank to buy a hamburger.

4) I have no intention of paying it back. I figure somehow she owes me.

Anyone else? You can post anonymously!

Potty Talk

Okay, so most of what comes out of my mouth could be deemed "potty talk" but this isn't what I'm referring to. Neither am I referring to Jared's lifelong dream of having a wife who will sit and talk to him while he's doing his "business." I'm talking about the M.A.C.E. This is the 40 minute procedure we do each night where we fill Harris' gut with water (via catheter through a man-made hole in his belly) and...well... he poops. It all gets cleaned out, no pushing required. (Jared's other lifelong dream!) During this time of effortless colon cleansing Harris plays his Nintendo DS. Sounds pretty painless right? WRONG! Harris hates it! He absolutely hates the whole process! There is minor physical discomfort involved but mostly he just doesn't want to sit upstairs alone that long. So most nights he cries, he complains, he asks "am I done yet?" half a million times and he calls my name at least that much. So when I'm feeling merciful I'll go up there and sit on the edge of the tub and read him books or talk to him. So this is is tonight's "potty talk."

Harris: "Mom, remember when I was a dead robot?"

Me: (crickets chirping. I'm searching my brain.)

Harris: "Remember, grandma was there and I couldn't move and there were wires in me?"

Me: "Oh, yeah buddy! When you had your EKG! That's called an EKG."

Harris: "That totally sucked, Mom!"

Me: "Harris, please don't say sucked. That's not a nice--"

Harris: (not listening to a word I'm saying) "Mom, remember when they took my blood blister?"

Me: (Again, I'm searching my brain...searching...)

Harris: "Oh! I mean my blood pressure, with a needle?"

Me: (still searching...)"Oh! Yeah! They weren't taking your blood pressure, they were just drawing blood, they do that so---"

Harris: (interruping) "That totally sucked, Mom. That totally, totally sucked."

Me: "Harris, please do not say that word! I don't like that word at all--"

Harris: "Mom, I'm tired of talking. Can you hand me my DS?"

Seriously! HE'S tired of talking to ME?

I Love Junk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay. I love junk. I don't keep alot of junk around, at least I don't think I do, but I love thrift stores. I love estate, rummage, yard and garage sales. (I think they are all the same thing) I can't even help it. What is the fun of going to a store where there is ten of everything and you just find your size/color and purchase it? Have you ever felt the joy of digging through mounds of dusty, stinky castoffs to find that perfect pair of shoes and you turn them over and there on the sole is the most beautiful sight you have ever seen? No, next to the wad of gum. It's that large but beautiful number 10 1/2! They're my size! And then, in magic marker is scribbled a 3-. Three dollars! Three dollars! These shoes are size 10 1/2 and they are three dollars! But wait, that isn't the best part. We're not even to the climax yet! Now, I take them to the counter. The grumpy old lady who never wants to negotiate is in a good mood today! I ask my standard question, "Is that the best you can do?" (Always at least ask. All they can say is no.) And she thinks. She furrows her brow and says in an annoyed voice, "Well, I guess I can give em' to ya for $2.50." Joy! Sheer thrill. It's like a high! Now, I add them to my three dollar shoe collection and on Sunday, when someone says, "I love your cute shoes, where did you get them?" I say, "At the thrift store for $2.50!" Now that is the climax. And Jared hates that whole scenario. He calls me a bag lady. He grew up with ten kids in his family and all clothes were from the D.I. So he's got "issues". Dream smasher.

A What in Tha?????????????

We were driving back from Sarah's house yesterday and we passed the new Stake center that our ward will be attending upon it's completion.

Faith: "Mom, when will the church be done?" (This is the 999th time she has asked me this.)

Me: "I dunno Faith---maybe February."

Faith: "Are they gonna move the bodies from the old church to the new one?"

Me: "What bodies?"

Faith: "The bodies of the dead prophets that are buried at the church."

This is me wearing Gabe's Saturn ring! This was all in an effort to get him to wear it for even a second so his mom could snap a picture. This is the ridiculous color my green hair has faded to and I loathe it! But my sisters say I'm addicted to changing my hair and that I never ever like it so there ya go--lost cause!
Halloween was super fun and I'll post pics of my kids as soon as my neighbor who took some gives them to me! (I'm a loser mom whose camera isn't working but truly, it's probably user-error because I'm clueless. I only graduated from the wind-up, disposable green cameras a few months ago!)
Sunday was a bittersweet day for me. I was released as Primary President after 2 years and 4 months of being served by those awesome little kids. I love em' all, even that grouchy red-head who will never sing the songs! I get to team teach the thirteen year-olds now with a smart, funny, fabulous girl that I visit teach so I'm super excited. I just hope I can talk to them like they're teenagers, not sunbeams. We'll see.
My new meds are really helping put a cap on my anxiety. The only downside is just that, they are down-ers and I'm used to being hopped up on anxiety or legal speed so I'm sleeping alot and feeling under-stimulated and under-whelmed. Maybe that aspect will just take some getting used to or maybe another drug should be added/subtracted/replaced. My drug dealer--I mean psychiatrist is getting his Christmas paid for by me!
And so I continue on the train ride of mental illness trying to get to my destination of mental wellness and trying to laugh at the crappy but oft times amusing parts along the way. Once I reach that destination I'm going to celebrate (and prove) my mental wellness by doing one thing from the following list of things that have always caused me extreme and I mean EX-TREME amounts of anxiety. I'm talking about the kind that sends me to the toilet! And I'm not talkin' about stuff comin' out the pretty end! So take a look at my list and cast a vote for the one you think I should do, if you feel so inclined! Thank you my home-skillets!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1) Touching any animals, except most dogs and some cats. I dry-heave at the zoo! What's with wart hogs? What is their purpose?
2) Having people in my home. I always say I'd rather stand on a chair naked and let you examine me than have you into my house! That should tell you how invasive it feels to me!
3) Driving a stick shift. I got in a wreck when I was pregnant with Faith and had to have reconstructive surgery on what the ambulance driver called a "lip flap"! Yeah-not pretty!
4) Not washing my hands after touching anything greezy! Okay, this is probably an OCD, but when I cook bacon, I scrub my hands after every encounter with that oily nastiness! Greezey hands will somehow lead to more zits! I just know it!
5) Being home alone. I do it all day when my kids are at school (and still get scared!) but nighttime---fah-get about-it!!!
6) Dying my hair any color other than blonde! It has been part of my identity for so long and while I'd love to try brown or red hair I just don't think I can pull it off like I could and did as a teenager. Maybe I never did pull it off as a teenager but you couldn't have convinced me of that! Maybe I'm not even pulling off blonde hair! Oh-now I feel anxious!
7) Learning anything new! Anything at all. I feel the need to know every little fact about that subject and then start incorporating it into my life. I was much happier when I knew nothing at all about living green/kiegal exercises/behavior modification/shutterfly scrapbooks/blogging-okay, that one I'm working through!

J-Dawg!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, so here's Jared a.k.a J-Dawg. I needed to wait till' I was in just the right place to blog about him. Not too irritated (that would be mean) and not too in love (that would be annoying). He is not the guy I should have married. With the life I was livin' in 1997 I should be stuck with a chain-smokin', tatooed shmuck named Mo. But the Lord somehow saw fit to show me mercy (that would be due to my mother's prayers, I'm sure) and I happened to end up with a dirty little farm-boy from Rigby--a very nice one (but still very dirty).

When I decided I was going to marry him (two weeks.......okay days) after meeting him I wasn't quite sure why I was drawn to him. Most things about him were very strange to me. He took me on five dates before he ever drove the same car twice! (What is it with farm folk and their multiple hooptys?) His favorite radio station was scan. You heard me. He left the radio on the scan option and listened to 3 seconds of every station for all of the time spent in the car. He brought me a treat every time he came to see me. Half eaten boxes of milk duds, Andes mints he stole from his sister's stocking basically anything he found laying around his house before walking out the door to pick me up! Nothing about this guy was like anyone I'd ever met before! And strangely, I liked it!

Well, on the roller coaster of mental illness, the change that was Rick's college sent me down the part of the ride where you plummet at 90mph toward impending doom! Or so it felt. I was far from home and family, despised by my roommates (I'm sure they had good reason!) and sinking into a deep depression. I met him at the first dance of the year and we were inseparable ever since. A month after trying Ricks college on for size I wound up in the hospital extremely ill. And there at the hospital with a can of soup off his momma's pantry shelf and a poem he had written on a scrap piece of wood from work, was Jared. My spud-house worker in dusty hard hat. (That's a knight in shining armor Idaho-style!) The rest is history.

Cha-cha-cha-Changes!!!!!!

I love fall weather. It has been much cooler here the past few days and I am lovin' it! The kids have pryed themselves away from the video games to play outside with their friends, and I feel like I want to open all my windows and clean my house! (I said feel like, let's not get too crazy now!) I am starting to come down off the crazy juice and though my new meds are making me sleep alot, it is a welcome change from feeling like I'm on legal speed.

Saturday night I went to the temple with my sister Sarah. It was a really good and much-needed experience. We kept talking about how we didn't want to leave the peaceful feeling we felt there but my intense, ever-growing craving for a burrito got us up and on the road. (But not before a sweet sister who happened to know me and my scatter-brained ways had to search the laundrey room for fifteen minutes for my recommend that went down the laundrey chute in the pocket of my dress!)

Then, Sunday was our Primary Program. I love those kids so stinkin' much! They are so beautiful and wonderful and flawless in all their flaws! They make me feel loved no matter how much I'm hatin' on myself! Could there be a better calling than in Primary? I think not!

I feel like change is in the air. Not just me getting well, er-- I mean well-medicated (there is a difference! But perfection is not the goal here!) But inner changes too. I know the Lord is willing to take me as far and high as I'll let him. Here's to me letting him. Finally!

"I can explain!!!!!"

Okay, so I guess my last post was a departure for me and I gave no explanation for the PG-13 images. It's never fun to be on the outside of an inside joke so forgive me. I was simultaneously laughing at and crying for myself because of a choice experience I had. I wont share all the sordid details because trust me, you don't want to know. (And if you decide you really want to know, ask me and I'll tell you in person.)
In my quest to live a whole and happy life I tend to be stuck in a cycle. It goes like this:
1)Struggle, struggle, struggle with real feelings of anxiety and obsessive-compulsiveness.
2)Realize I'm like a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest trying to handle it on my own.
3)Seek help from a licensed professional.
4)Start taking meds.
5)Start experiencing difficult side-effects from the meds.
6)Begin wondering if the way I was living is better or worse than the side effects that are now becoming almost unbearable.
7)Go off the meds.
8)Begin again.
Okay, so that's the cycle. Only this time I did something different. With a shred of hope and a lot of prayer I stopped at step 6 and did not allow myself to go to step 7. And let me just say that side-effects are one thing, but having an actual BAD and I mean BAD reaction to a drug is a whole nutha ball game! I was insane! I cannot even begin to make you understand! The meds I was on were making me nuts! And every time I'd call the psych. to move my next appt up they were unable. (I know! Don't they know they're dealing with crazy people! Make it happen!)
So, I just kept swallowing the very thing I knew was making me crazy, morning after morning. But somewhere deep down in my spirit (not easy to tap into when you're dealing with a deranged brain!) I knew this was all part of the Lord's plan to get me well.
So, one night I had a massive meltdown. I threw (and I mean, hurled!) an Ensign magazine (of all things! It may as well have been a book about eternal marriage!) at my poor unsuspecting husband. I got in my car and I began to drive and SCREAM! I know much better than to scream AT the Lord but I knew he could hear me, and it was all for him. "I cannot do this! What is the freakin' problem! Am I really asking for that much? All I want is to have a fighting chance! I'm not asking for fancy, just NORMAL! I'm not trying to rule the world, just be a half-decent wife and mother and maybe along the way glean a little joy from it! I don't understand why I cannot catch a break! I guess I'm not worth helping! Maybe this is as good as it gets for me! Maybe that's as much as I deserve! So ya know what? I quit! I totally quit! If I'm working twice as hard to make good choices and I don't even get to feel joy then I'm done! Maybe the other things aren't right but at least they bring some temporary relief! I mean, if I don't get to feel happiness either way, at least I can feel some relief!* (the hatchet picture does not apply to this part of the scenario. Neither do the pullups or cupcake)
So I am driving around at 1:30 a.m., shrieking, tears streaming, eyes bulging and neck veins pulsating like the Hulk. I am feeling like about the lowest most worthless creature the Lord ever bothered giving a body to. Meanwhile, my rant has taken me from my own jipped existence to the perfect lives of everyone around me (but it's still all about me, I'm sure you got that). So I'm screaming about the ease I see in the lives of those around me. I'm siting specific examples of whose got what I ain't got and now I'm really cookin'! I've got a full-blown pity party goin' and no one is invited but me! That way no one can talk any sense into me and take away my fun! So I finish it all off by directing only one comment upward. "Lord, why don't you just throw a few more sprinkles on everyone elses' cupcake for me!"
With that, I returned home, snuck into my sleeping house, wished I had some good drugs for my headache!--and went to sleep!
Well, so that's not the end of this story. The final step in the vicious, previously-mentioned cycle is not: Have a nervous breakdown, put on a straight-jacket and live unhappily ever after!
I returned to the doc and relayed all of the insanity to him. My bad reaction to the one medication helped tell him a lot more about what I really should be taking. He immediately took me off the crazy juice and prescribed me some totally different stuff which I am currently taking. It will, of course, take time to get everything streamlined (right dose, right time of day, etc. etc.)but it is already getting better. And I know without a doubt that the Hulk stuff was necessary to lead me to a more complete and proper diagnosis than I have ever been able to obtain in all my past attempts to get relief. Oh and get this! My new meds cost $32 and the other ones were like $200!
It's so funny how the Lord works. While I was screaming about how there were no sprinkles on my cupcake, he was busy building me a bakery! Yeah, I feel humbled. God is good. He is really good.




*If Bishop Jones comes-a-knockin' at my door, this blog will become invite only! I ain't even playin'!

This is for my sisters..Crank up the volume!!!

The French-Fry guy

Meet Harris Benjamin Pabst. Sometimes we call him Harry-B, but he would like to go down in history as the French Fry guy. He loves loves loves all things super hero but more than that he loves fried potatoes in all their many forms. He is absolutely obsessed with tator tots, hashbrowns, and most of all french fries. So much so that my mom created a book for him in which he gets to be a tator-tot shooting hero known as the French-Fry guy! But his real-life hero is my younger brother Jon. Harris wants to be just like him in every way. He's off to a great start too because he is totally into television, video games, eating his favorite foods and always sounding sarcastic and/or (sorry Jon!) irritated. We have to constantly talk about using a "nice, soft" way to talk to others because he is generally annoyed with anyone approaching him with anything but a french fry. His real-life super power is asking questions. He can (and does!) ask the same question a thousand different ways all the while applying his keen powers of persistence to wear you down and get what he wants. One time, he got a couple of dollars from his Papaw with which to buy some French fries for his birthday. He immediately began asking me,"When can we go get french fries? Can we get some french fries now? How many more minutes til' we go get french fries?" Frustrated I said, "Harris, do not ask me about those french fries one more time!" A few minutes later he approached, asking if he could tell me a joke. Here's the joke. Knock, knock. Whose there? Can we go get some french fries?
Harris was born with spina bifida (a hole in his spinal cord) and so he has required and will continue to require lots of what I call "medical maintenance"". He has had 8 surgeries in his short life (only 4 were more than outpatient procedures) the most recent being the most remarkable. He had an eight hour surgery last November to allow him to catheterize himself through his belly button (crazy-I know!) and clean out his bowel each night so now he can stay clean and dry throughout the day. Children with spina bifida always have major issues with bladder/bowel because the nerves on the spine that control this function are damaged and they can't feel what we feel. He has done well with this surgery-- a big part of our ongoing movement toward independence. He wears AFO braces on his legs but walks really well even without them and he has a VP shunt (small catheter-like drain inserted in his brain ventricle beneath his skull) to drain fluid off his brain. Sorry to give you lots of medical mumbo jumbo but it's hard to explain Harris without explaining Spina Bifida. It by no means defines him but it affects most aspects of his life. Having him in our family stretches us and teaches us on a daily basis and we feel blessed to have this "super"-hero in our midst!

SQUEEF

This is Ethan. We call him Squeef. The fact that he has no problem with this less-than-desirable nickname is evidence of his extremely high self-esteem. Seriously, when they were passing out confidence this guy stood in line like, four or five times. If this is sounding all-too familiar, you're right. He is absolutely Jared junior. It's uncanny. They are so alike it's scary. Sometimes I wonder if both of them are necessary. What one would say in any given situation the other would say as well--the exact same thing said in the exact same tone of voice with the exact same facial expression. So it comes as no surprise that Ethan thinks his father hung the moon. It's essentially like thinking he himself hung the moon which is accurate. He is a very different thinker--from me that is. He sees the world in SUCH a different way than me. I've known him since he took his first breath and yet at least once a day I will find myself thinking ,"Who is this guy? Do I really know him? Or understand him?" I guess I should since I'm married to the block he is a chip off of.

He is famous for saying such odd and random things that make everyone crack up but also scratch their heads a little. Just as an example, when he was much younger, maybe three, we were having family night and we were learning about how testimonies are something you feel in your heart. We asked the kids to each share with the rest of us what was in their heart. When it was Ethan's turn, he said ,"Chicken blood.." And another time we were all in the car going somewhere and everyone was talking and being noisy (he was probably about 4 years old) and he raised up his hand and as serious as a heart attack said, "SHHH! I'm thinkin' about candy!" (Since then I have found that it is quite helpful to think about candy during times of turmoil. Thanks for the tip, Squeef!)

He loves football, and is pretty good at it. He works really hard at pleasing the coach and they are quite fond of eachother and themselves. Betcha can't guess who the coach is. Ethan is in fourth grade at Pecan Grove Elementary and is sharp as a tack. The biggest challenge is getting him to think he needs to try at any of his work. He shares his father's extreme dose of optimism. (I always say Jared could lose both of his arms and legs and he would say, "At least I have this good-lookin' torso!) One time he decided he no longer needed to study for spelling tests so I decided to just let him try it out and see if natural consequences could teach him better than I could. That Friday I pulled his test out of his folder and called him downstairs. "Ethan! You made a 72 on your spelling test!" He looked me dead in the eye, paused, and then yelled, "Sweet!" and ran away happily.

His biggest thing right now is his hair. He has some idea in his mind of how he wants it to look and no matter how hard I try I cannot concieve that how it looks could possibly be the desired outcome. It is crazy. It is super long and super shaggy and like mine, super thin and so most of the time it looks super strange. But of course, he loves it! I recently decided I needed to fight his newfound rebellious streak by letting him have complete control of the few things he can have complete control over without serious consequences. While sometimes it's questionable I mostly believe his hair falls under this heading. And so with lips pursed and my toungue tightly lodged between my teeth, I watch each morning as he combs it into his own strange little masterpiece. And off he goes to school, happy as a clam.

His best feature is definitely his un-squelchable optimism which tempers my obvious pessimism. His worst feature is--you guessed it, his hair. But it's not like I have room to speak, today Sarah informed me that the color I dyed mine last night, which was supposed to be an ashy blonde, is in fact, green!

The BIZ-OSS

1. This is Faith. She is the boss of the whole house. And once she loses her excess baggage known as her parents, she will be the boss of the whole world. She could run a small country and she is only ten. We got her a cat because we felt like she needed another living thing she could control besides her brothers. This did not work by the way. She wakes up every morning to her own alarm, feeds her cat, herself gets completely ready and is eating breakfast by the time the rest of us roll out of bed and put on the clothes from last night that are laying on the floor. When she was nine she actually gave her brother (who was eight!) a spanking because he wasn't moving fast enough and was going to make her late for school. She loves clothes and all things trendy and popular. She knows exactly what she wants all of the time and precisely executes her plan to get it. Her biggest frustration is when she has to rely on ANYONE else to get it. One time when she was little she asked me if I would teach her how to sew. (She was obviously too young to know that I have no idea how to sew) and I said not right now, maybe in a little bit. (My standard answer) She proceeded to locate a Q-tip, tied a piece of yarn to it, and "sewed" two squares of rubber mesh drawer liner together. That's when I knew she was smarter than me. She plays volleyball for the YMCA when she feels so inclined, but she mostly likes to stand on the court and size up all the girls' shoes. Having decided after the first game that her own shoes were not up to par she worked her mad skills on her dad and landed herself a brand new pair of pink and white Nikes which she is so pleased with she cannot stop smiling down at them long enough to play the game. Her best feature is her beautiful red hair which is somehow thick in spite of my female-pattern baldness. Her worst feature is her red hair because she has the temper to go with it. She is in fifth grade and talks about how she can't wait to be in middle school every single day of every single week.

Blog--Take Two!

Okay. So I've had a blog for approximately a day and I'm already regretting it. Now I'm feeling the need to take a picture of everything I am doing, should I blog about this should I blog about that? What? People have left me comments? I have an audience? Who is my audience? What do they think of me? Let me determine what my reputation is so I can proceed to maintain it! This crap really messes with your head! And my head is already messed up to begin with! But I'm gonna fight the urge to do what I do in almost any situation that falls outside of my comfort zone---quit! I'm gonna fight it. I'm gonna keep trying this to see if it will help me in my life. Who knows? Maybe it will be an outlet for me. Maybe it will be a way to actually be creative since I do not sew, craft, paint or anything remotely like it. Maybe it will help connect me to friends that I would otherwise have no contact with. You can't ever learn new things unless you try new things, even if you fail. So I'm gonna see if my already-obsessive mind can learn to take blogging in stride. Wish me luck. And soon I will learn to put pictures on here! Then you can see photographs of me after I have located the ones where I''m 5 years younger and having a great hair day and after I photo shop my teeth whiter! And don't you worry, I'll pretend it's just a casual snapshot taken just the other day!

There I was, minding my own business...........

Okay. Up until now I have been a self-proclaimed anti-blogger. I have preached the evils of blogs. I've said how it makes people become famous in their own minds and, much like the stars of hollywood who suddenly think even their nail color should be front page news, blog about everything from the color of their baby's poop to what they ate for their anniversary dinner (including a picture which may or may not be a re-creation!) You could easily point out that I could not know all of this without having looked at peoples' blogs which leads me to my point. The people I love and care about, well, the truth is, I do care about their baby's poop and their anniversary dinner--okay, maybe not the poop. But while I have always felt that if you are important enough to me for me to be telling you about my life, then we should be talking on the phone regularly and that is when we will be reporting such news, I am quickly learning that the world has crossed over into blogs and facebook and the like as a way to communicate. So I'm realizing that if I ever want to chat with any of my friends that live far away this is the only means by which it is going to happen with any kind of consistency. So now that I have insulted everyone who has a blog you can all follow along as I get sucked into the vortex of blogs and probably become the worst poop reporter of all! I will apologize in advance for three things:

1) The boring nature of my life. But as I have recently learned, the people you call friends care about the boring and mundane in your life, or else their lives are boring and mundane enough that it is sometimes fun to look at the the boring and mundane life of another.

2) That I am completely computer illiterate and watching me develop this blog will probably be similar to watching mold grow--same pace and same amount of excitement. I do not know what I am doing and I am not a fast learner. Plus I haven't been in school for so long I don't even know how to spell grammar! Or is it grammer?

3) Most of it will be about me, hence the title. I would love to say that it is a compilation of all our family happenings, a joint effort in which our family chronicles our history for our posterity. But, I am a selfish person whose thoughts are almost completely centered around myself and my long list of problems and plus I don't think I could interest Jared in anything about a blog (or anything else for that matter) unless it has a ninja or some sort of fight scene in it. This is the man who calls evey movie that is not an action flic Anne of Green Gables. Luckily, he and my 3 children often land at the top of my long list of problems and so you'll get to hear about them plenty too. If you care. But I guess that's the beauty of blogs. If you are lookin' at it you must care--or something like that.