Monday, December 7, 2015

Mastoidectomy Surgery

Well, I had my first surgery Nov. 12.  If went off without a hitch!  I was extremely apprehensive because of the possible side effects - seizures or stroke.  Fortunately, it all went smoothly.  I will attach pictures at the bottom of this blog - if you are squeamish, don't look!!
So, part of my mastoid bone was gone - either from repeated ear infections as a child, or possibly from birth.  And because of the missing section of bone, my brain was sitting on the three bones in your ear canal that are supposed to vibrate when you hear sound.  I have had significant hearing loss for some time and tried to explain to different doctors how things sounded.  My voice is extremely loud inside my head.  Chewing is extremely loud.  When I eat or talk, the only thing I can hear is me.  It drowns out all external sound because it's so loud.  Of course no one offered any reason for this and most looked at me like I had hit my head.  So, I got hearing aids.  They did nothing for the issue at hand, but they did amplify the external sound enough that I could hear above my own voice slightly.
So, I got meningitis and because of that, I had a CAT scan, which showed the issue with the missing bones in my ears.  So, that is why they think I got meningitis and said it required a reconstruction of the mastoid bone and a lifting of my brain to get it back to where it belonged. 
It was about a 3 hour surgery, and they actually ended up cutting off a portion of my brain and cauterizing it, which caused it to "retreat" upward and allowed room for reconstruction of the missing bone without "lifting" the brain.  That's all good news, I am told.  Apparently everyone else of the face of the planet had surgery that day, too, because it was after 10:00 p.m. before I got to a room.  There really wasn't any pain, so to speak.  The incision was around the back of my ear - they basically folded it over onto my face and then sewed it back where it belonged. 
The worst part was the recovery time.  2 weeks of not bending over and not lifting.  Do you know how many times you bend over in a day?  Or how many times you grab something up without even thinking?  And the fact that I didn't really "feel" that bad almost made it worse.  I felt like getting out and doing things, but I couldn't.  So, I abided by the rules.  Oh, and I couldn't cough or sneeze for 2 weeks, as well.  So, at my post-op check up, they said everything looked great, and I could bend over and begin easing back into life.  I go for my final check up end of December.  Then they will schedule the other ear.
And, apparently there is some scarring from when I was intubated with the meningitis, and I have told different doctors what it feels like in my throat, and they don't seem to concerned.  But to me it feels like if I cough really hard, something will come up into my throat and cut off my airway.  So, I am still trying not to cough or sneeze.  I googled and the only thing I found that is close to what it feels like is called a "granuloma" on the larynx. I found pictures and it took months for the case I saw to heal.  I am hoping mine doesn't take that long!
OK, here are pictures:


 OK, the gross ones are of the actual surgery.  My brain is hanging out, but I couldn't tell you where.
Below is a picture of the incision right after surgery, and then 2 weeks post-op.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Meningitis: All I Never Wanted To Know

Meningitis. Isn't that something teenagers get from the locker room? That's pretty much all I knew about meningitis - until I got it.

I am almost 50 and certainly don't visit locker rooms. I am the mom. The wife. The grandma. The chief cook and bottle washer. I do things. I take care of things. I take care of everyone else. I don't have time or money to be sick. I don't have insurance, thanks to obamacare. I don't go to the doctor unless I think I am dying. And as a rule, I am not sick that often. I don't have any health issues- no high blood pressure, no diabetes, etc. But sometimes all that doesn't matter.
It started on a Wednesday, and possibly before that, as I lost track of several days. I was around my son, who had fever, and what we thought was probably a cold or flu, this was on Sunday. I felt kind of crummy, and figured I was getting whatever he had. That's pretty much the last memory I have until I woke up in the ICU the following Sunday.
Apparently I stayed home from work on Thursday, which is unusual. My husband thought something was wrong, but said I insisted I was fine and didn't want to go to the doctor or urgent care. And he said I was moaning and making weird noises (noises we now know are signs of meningitis).  My mom called to check on me, and  my husband said I didn't want to talk to her, which I would normally never do (you have to talk to your mom, no matter what, right? I was up and down all night Thursday. And I am told I made lots of cappuccino and toast through the night (it's a wonder I didn't burn down the house!) And the moaning and noises went on all night. He said he asked me why I kept making the noises, and I said I couldn't help it.
By Friday morning, I was too weird to ignore, and was "combative". My parents came over to have a look and everyone decided I needed an ambulance. The paramedics wrestled me from my bed to the gurney and from that time on I was tied down. One of the paramedics said it looked like meningitis, and by the grace of God, that info was relayed to the ER staff.   And it was no coincidence that the ER nurse who attended to me had some clout, and had had two prior meningitis patients, both with sepsis, and she insisted on starting steroids. Of the two prior patients she had, one did not survive, and had not been given steroids. So, that alone probably saved my life.
After testing, I had (I hope I'm phrasing correctly) pneumococcal bacterial meningitis, and a test of my spinal fluid showed sepsis. Apparently I had an inner ear infection, causing my ear drum to burst, allowing bacteria to enter my brain, and once there, it is free to multiply with little resistance. They pumped me full of steroids and antibiotics, and loaded me up and took me to the ICU in Springfield. This was Friday.
Once there, they put me in a medically to induced coma to allow my brain time to heal. I was intubated, of course, and also had a feeding tube in my nose.  They told my family it would be 7-14 days before I would wake up.
And then they began to tell my family what outcomes they could expect. (Tears flow every time I think about this. God spared my life, and though I don't know why, I am so thankful!)  They said one in three don't wake up at all. And if I woke up, I could have stroke-like symptoms, damage to motorskill function, brain damage in cognitive areas, memory loss, vision loss, hearing loss, and a number of other things. The prognosis was not good. Periodically, they would reduce the sedation to see how I behaved, and if I could obey simple commands. My hands were tied down because I would try to pull the tube out of my throat. I feel so bad for what my family must have gone through during this time.
On Sunday, my husband had come from the waiting room to the icu and spoke with the doctor in the hallway, who said, there's just no way to tell when I would wake up, and it would probably be several days. He continued to my room, where he pulled the curtain back to hear the nurse say "She's looking for you. She's awake."
My first memory is my husband asking if I knew where I was. Of course I didn't. And I don't remember much from that day, but according to my family I was obnoxious and tried to be funny and make jokes - I'm sorry to the ICU nurses, I'm usually pretty reserved. They asked me many questions- my family's names, dates, places, etc. I remembered most things, but not the grandbabies! How was that possible?! Thankfully that was only temporary!
I did well enough that they moved me to a regular room on Monday night. I was very unsteady, and required a walker to get around (I thought those were for old people!) I was able to convince the physical therapy guy that I was fine and needed to go home.
They had placed a picc line (peripherally inserted central catheter) right below the bicep of my right arm, for administering my antibiotics, as they weren't sure how long I would be there and it goes directly to your heart in the event the need to get something in your really fast. They let me go home Wednesday night.
Thursday morning a home health nurse came and showed my family how to administer my medicine. Of course, I am a worrier and fretter, s when they said ,"Now, this goes directly to your heart, so you really need to be careful about germs, and really shouldn't touch the end with your fingers." That gave me one more thing to be paranoid about. Anyway my family managed to do it without killing me. We did that for 7 days or so, twice a day. And showering was quite a feat, as I couldn't get the picc line wet. So the wrapping and taping process was long, and let me tell you, that medical tape sticks! I can't be sure, but I think I have about 7 less layers of skin on my right arm! My dad was wrapping once, and I was trying to explain that the least amount of tape touching my skin, the better. He didn't fully understand until it had to come off -not very fun!
Finally I had my appointment with the infectious disease doctor (I have to admit, I felt uncomfortable sitting in his waiting room-what if I caught a disease?) Anyway, my blood work looked great. So they removed the picc line and sent me home with oral antibiotics. And told me I didn't want to get an air embolism where they removed the picc line, so I had to keep antibiotic ointment and a bandage on it for several days. One more thing to be paranoid about. And what exactly is "several" days?  It was nice to be able to let my skin grow back on my right arm, though!
My next trip was to the ENT. He showed me a scan of my head. I was happy to see I did, in fact have a brain in there - I was worried there might just be a handful of peas rolling around up there!  Having never had my head scanned before, we would never have known this if I hadn't gotten meningitis, but a section of the mastoid bone in my ear is missing on both sides, and my brain actually "drooped" down into my ear canal and is currently sitting on the tiny bones that are supposed to vibrate, and then send sound signals to your brain. For some 15 or 20 years I have tried to explain to different doctors that all I hear is me, my voice. When I talk, it sounds like I'm yelling. And when I talk or chew, all I hear is me -it drowns out any external sound. And I sing. When I start to sing, I can't hear the music, other singers, etc. I only hear me. God has given me the ability to stay on key, I guess, as no one has ever told me to knock it off. Anyway, this requires surgery to correct. And I have a spinal fluid leak they will repair as well. They will basically cut my ear loose from my head and graft cartilage and bone from my ear and skull and attach to my existing mastoid bone, while lifting my brain back up where it belongs and then sew it all back together. Kind of gross, but I'm ok with it until my mom asks about side effects. I could have a stroke or seizures for the rest of my life from lifting the brain. Now I am having second thoughts until the doctor says I don't have a choice. If I don't have the surgery I will most likely get meningitis again and might not have such a good outcome next time.
So, my surgery is two days from now. I am trying my best to squelch my worrying and exercise my faith that God will take care of things. I will once again be totally incapacitated and have to rely on my family, which I just hate having to do, but I know they will take good care of me. And I realize all the other crap in our lives - money, stuff, activities, etc, is just crap. What matters most is (1) that you know where you will spend eternity in the event you don't get to see tomorrow (I will spend my eternity in Heaven with my Saviour, Jesus Christ), and (2) your family. Family is our greatest treasure here on earth, and God's greatest blessing!
Please say a prayer for me. Sorry this blog is so long,  Just wanted to get everything in before my surgery, you know, just in case.

Monday, November 2, 2015

I'm Going Postal!!

I am really close to losing my mind over the United States Postal Service!

I can't say enough good things about our local post office.  They are always most helpful and courteous, and very professional.  I have no complaints whatsoever.

The entire postal system, however, is another story!  I shipped a package 13 days ago. I sent it priority 2-day mail.  I checked the tracking number each day.  The only information it showed was a scan when it left my local post office. On the fourth day with no tracking updates via the internet, and the package not received by the recipient, I phoned the number on the usps website.  After entering a thousand prompts and numbers, I am told by a recording that if I leave my number, someone will return my call according to my place in line.
Sure enough, they call me. They ask again for all the information I spent 20 minutes entering earlier, which I give them.  The customer service lady says, "Well, it looks like it was scanned when it left your post office, and is currently in transit."  I said, "I know that.  I just told you that's what it said on the internet tracking.  But I sent it Priority, 2-day and it's been 4 days." "Well," says the lady, "there's really nothing more we can do until it gets scanned somewhere else.  And you have to wait 15 days to file a claim."

It has now been 13 days and I can't wait any longer.  I call our local post office.  They are most cordial and apologetic.  They give me an 800 number to call, and tell me it will launch an inquiry into where it should have gone after it left here, so they can actually check with the next-receiving post office.  Guess what?  It's the same place I called before!

I call, enter prompts and numbers for 20 minutes, and again am told it's better to request a call-back instead of waiting. So, I leave my number.  I am on the phone with a customer when my cell rings, it's them and I missed the call!!  They call again. I say, "Hello."  The person on the other end says, "Ello. Theez eez (some unrecognizable name) weeth thee Uneeted Staats Poostal Surveez. Ow cun I elp you?"  I'm like, really?  The United States Postal Service can't even hire someone who speaks understandable English?  Is this person even IN the United States?  So, after several huh's and what's on my end, I finally understand they will start a claim and investigate.  I am given a claim number (which I am still not sure I understood correctly) and told someone will call me shortly.

No one ever calls, and I am unable to speak with anyone else about it.  Finally, 25 days later, I receive a refund check from the postal service.

And 43 days after the original mailing, guess what I find sitting on my porch?  The original package, undamaged and obviously unmailed. I don't get it. Where had this package been for a month and a half? And why could no one find it?

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Grandma's Hands

I remember Grandma's hands. They weren't pretty. Her nails were never polished. Her skin was rough. You could see her veins. Her knuckles were kind of big. When she grabbed you by the arm, you knew there was strength in her hands. Her fingers didn't straighten out like they used to. They were very wrinkly. And sometimes a little shaky.

But, my, what things those hands had done!  They had fed chickens and milked cows. They had washed and hung out laundry long before the dryer came along. They swept floors and washed windows. They loaded wood into the cook stove and moved it around like a ninja to control the temperature on certain burners. They patted bottoms of many children and grandchildren. They picked cherries and made pies. They snapped many bushels of green beans and then canned them. They gave spankings when needed, and hugs as well. They ached. They never complained. They changed the channel on the first television set in the house. They swatted flies with a homemade fly swatter. They made aprons and dresses from feed sacks. They darned socks. They measured ingredients-a cup, a pinch, a dash- Grandma's hands knew just how much. They wiped sweat from her brow on hot summer days. They held a cool cloth on feverish children. They prayed.

Grandma's hands represented a lifetime of joys, sorrows, worries and celebrations. They may not have been glamorous, but everything they did was done in love.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

We Should All Count Our Blessings

Our family usually eats supper at my mom's once every week, otherwise we would never connect with each other.  We are all busy with work and a few extra activities, so this is a much-needed time for us to come together and temporarily forget about whatever crazy stuff is going on around us.

Last night was that night.  We ate supper (thank you to my mom, for I know what it takes to feed our bunch!) and then made a fire in the fire pit and roasted marshmallows and enjoyed the cool night air with each other.  This sounds very relaxing, doesn't it? I think a better description would be loud, funny chaos, but that seems to be what we thrive on!

My two-year old grandson is a total ball of fire, never still for a minute.  Very funny and kind-hearted, but a typical two-year old.  The fire is so enticing for kids.  He wanted to roast marshmallows.  Not to eat, but just so he could stick something in the fire.  And he wanted a new stick each time.  And each time he got a new stick with a new marshmallow he managed to drag the sticky, used sticks all across his clothes.  By night's end, we all were covered in something sticky.  Then my mom brought out his tea party stuff (yes, boys like tea parties too) and he managed to pour an entire pitcher of water all over himself.  Now he was wet and sticky, so in turn, we were all wet and sticky.  He got a Little Tikes climbing playhouse for his birthday, but that is not nearly as fun as the box it came in.  It is now a house, complete with windows and doors, and apparently you have to go in with a flashlight and scare all the residing ghosts away by shouting at them. Thankfully, his mom is still limber enough to climb around inside a box, because they would have had to call 911 to get me out. And his nightly ritual includes scouring the yard with a flashlight in search of armadillos.  This began on our trips to the lake, as they seem to roam freely there, and he doesn't know the difference between there and anywhere else. 

My son has a 3-month old, who seems to take the noise and chaos in stride.  Actually, I think it is very entertaining to her, because there is always some commotion to be interested in.  Between all of us passing the baby around, I am pretty sure she is glad to just go home and lay in her bed without someone in her face.  And the two year old doesn't yet understand why you can shoot big people with nerf darts, but not babies.  So we are always on guard in case we need to shield the baby's face from incoming warfare. And sticky marshmallow sticks.  And I am pretty sure the baby only hears this noise level when she comes to our family's houses.  As I have told her repeatedly, You can't pick your family - you're stuck with us.

All of that to say, as I sat there observing the organized chaos, I realized I have so much to be thankful for.  My kids, though they were typical kids and did lots of stuff I didn't approve of, are pretty good kids.  They aren't strung out on drugs, and have never done anything criminal, and still want to be close with our family.  My parents, though aging, are still going and doing and being an active part of our family.  And my kids and grandkids feel just as comfortable with us and my parents as they do with their own parents, and they know we love them beyond measure and would do anything we could for them.  God has truly blessed our family with the most precious thing we can have on this earth - a loving family!

Friday, September 4, 2015

Let's Get Back To The Basics of Life!


I see all the turmoil and nonsense in the world today, and I wonder, is it possible to just get back to life? What will our children and grandchildren have for childhood memories? Shootings and riots, and fear of going outside?

When I was a kid, our lives were filled with joy and wonder, and the worst thing we worried about was whether our friend would be able to come out and play.  Our neighborhood was full of kids and we all played together.  Some were a little ornery, but most were just regular kids.  We didn't have cell phones, ipads, or video games.  We PLAYED.  We used our imaginations.  We explored.  We laughed.  We argued with each other, sometimes duked it out, and then we were friends again.  ALL without the interference of our parents.  No one sued anyone.  No one called the police for a bullying incident.  We learned to compromise.  We learned that there was a pecking order, and once you found your spot, all was well with the world.  We learned that we are all different, but also the same. We acquired life-long skills of give and take. Our parents made sure we learned right from wrong and knew the meaning of the word "no".  We all got spankings on a regular basis.  And WE SURVIVED!!

We didn't have every minute of our day planned.  There weren't the same extra-curricular options that there are today, and I never remember saying I was "bored".  People randomly stopped by "to visit" and were always welcomed.  Neighbors knew each other and you could call on your neighbors for help and they were glad to assist.  Nobody had much money or fancy houses or cars, but we were all pretty happy.  We ate raw hot dogs.  We dug up bugs and worms and then ate without washing our hands!  In the summer, our parents said ,"Go outside and play."  And we always found something to do.  We built forts.  We played cops and robbers, or cowboys and indians.  We didn't know what racial discrimination meant.  We accepted the world and our environment at face-value.  I never heard of anyone being kidnapped.  Or murdered. Or raped.  I didn't know anyone whose parents weren't still married. 

What has happened to that world?  We call it technological advances, but have we really advanced?  Now, we can't let our kids even go outside alone.  And certainly not out of our yard.  We have scheduled "play dates".  Five-year olds have cell phones.  No one knows how to entertain themselves.  Our kids think nothing about hearing the word "murder" or "rape" on the news - it is far too common.  They can no longer be disciplined without someone calling DFS.  We try to coax them into behaving, and I see parents trying to "reason" with a two-year old. Ethics and morals have gone out the window.  No one takes pride in their work or their lives. Most kids have step-families now.  Children are forced to compete with technology for their parents' attention.  We have all kinds of devices intended to save us time and make things happen faster, yet we have less time than we ever have.

If only we could get back to enjoying life, enjoying our children, and stopping to smell the roses.  Our kids would be much happier, and in turn, our lives would be much more enjoyable.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Why Does God Allow Bad Stuff To Happen To Good People?

I hear this question often. Usually preceded by "If God is a God of love, and loves everyone..."
This is usually asked by those who are not Christians.  They play the hypocrite card when invited to church - "Everyone there is a bunch of hypocrites - that's why I don't go."

I believe the people who ask the first question don't fully understand.  God, a God of love, created a perfect world for us to live in.  He created Adam because he desired companionship. And he created Eve so Adam would have companionship. But God didn't desire demanded companionship - he wanted it to be a choice that was made, and man was given free will.  In the world God created, everything worked and coincided perfectly.  There was only one stipulation - don't partake of one tree. And you know what the most tantalizing tree was?  That one tree.  And satan convinced Eve that by eating from that tree, she would be as knowledgeable as God Himself. 
Once she and Adam had eaten from that tree, they immediately knew satan was a liar. It didn't fill them with knowledge, but instead, shame.  Shame for disobeying God. And sorrow for ruining their perfect relationship with God. And their curse for that mistake was that all of mankind would be born with a sinning nature. All of mankind would now suffer physical pain, sickness and eventual death.
But our God of love is a God of second chances.  He provided a way for our souls to have eternal life beyond the day of our physical death.  He sent His only son, Jesus Christ, a perfect, sinless man to be tormented and crucified as a blood sacrifice to pay the debt of our sin, that debt being eternal damnation.  But He still gave us free will.  The choice to accept this way to eternal life in Heaven, or the choice to reject it.
The answer to this question is, bad stuff happens to good people because good people sinned.  And still sin. But our God of love gave the opportunity to escape this world of sickness and death.  So that is how His love is displayed to us.  Everyone experiences trials and temptations in this temporary world.  But through God, we have hope for a future and peace in our hearts that a non-Christian simply cannot understand.

So to the latter question, I would ask, do you go to work every day?  Isn't that place filled with hypocrites?  Do you shop at Wal-mart?  Aren't there hypocrites there?  For some reason, people seem to think churches should be full of saints.  Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's kind of like a hospital.  People who feel fine usually aren't occupying the rooms.  The same holds true with churches. 

First, those people filling the church are just people.  Human, sinful people like everyone else.  The difference is that the Christians enjoy God's grace and mercy, and forgiveness for their sins.  Should Christians live differently than non-Christians?  Of Course!  But not all of them do, unfortunately.  And though we strive (or should) to live a life free of sin, our fleshly nature causes us to fail many times over.  We are instructed to ask for forgiveness for our sins and try, with God's help, not to repeat them.  And my best guess is the ones who refuse to go to church probably haven't been, and don't actually know first hand just who goes there. 
Second, churches have a couple of purposes.  One, is to be able to come together and fellowship with Christian brothers and sisters and worship God.  Another is the hospital effect. Your pastor's job is to preach the word of God.  And throughout time, the true word of God has the power to uplift you, convict you of sin in your life, and encourage you to walk closer to God. So, if you are experiencing a "storm" in your life, you can find comfort at church.  If you are living outside of God's will, hopefully your conscience is convicted to repent and come back into walking closely with God. 
And the church is the place where most people who aren't Christians hear the word of God, and about His grace and mercy, and the plan of salvation.

Why not give it a try, if you've never been, or if it has been a while?  

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Darn that Josh Dugger!

As unfair and as unrealistic as it is, people who aren't Christians expect people who are to be perfect. Otherwise, they are labeled as a hypocrite.
Thank you, Josh Dugger, for reinforcing that opinion of Christians. In today's world of technology and perpetual snoopers, did you not think anyone would find out?
We ALL make mistakes.  We ALL have skeletons from our past that we would like to forget.  But in the world we live in today, you can bet your booty that every last thing you have ever done can and will be discovered by someone.  And then publicized.
It's like all the preachers who are discovered doing immoral things. It gives all the others a bad name. Personally, I think if you are going to choose to do things you know are wrong, step down from your position and do whatever it is you must do.  But please don't do it while you are proclaiming the word of God and Christianity!
We are most definitely NOT perfect.  None of us.  But our job is to strive to live according to God's plan. Although we fail, we should still get up each day intending to live right and do God's will. 

I hate that this has disgraced not only fellow Christians, but also his wife and family.  What turmoil they must be going through.  If he wanted to do that, he should have left the show, left his wife and done whatever he needed out of the limelight. (Of course, he shouldn't have done it at all.)

So sad.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Charitable Giver or Sucker?

My husband says I was a sucker.  I still haven't made my decision.
A few days ago a man came to our business, a few years older than me, told me a story of how he was down on his luck and needed a few bucks to stay in a motel. I said our lot needed sweeping, so if he was willing, I would pay him for it.  He agreed, and it was very hot that day.  About half way through I felt bad for him, so I took him a Gatorade.  We left for lunch, and I went ahead an paid him as he just had a little work left to do and told him to leave our brooms by the door when he was finished.  I half-figured we would return to find we had no brooms.  But there they were, and he did a fine job on our lot.
The next day, the same man returned.  He stated his sister was due to pick him up the next morning and if I would loan him $30, he would be at our door when we opened to repay me.  I agreed and gave him the money. I spent that night contemplating whether I thought he would actually show up, did some praying about it. I had decided if he showed I would accept his repayment and offer him our Bible which we keep on our counter, along with an explanation of how our riches on this earth are temporary, but God offers riches eternal,  and offer to pray with him.
That was yesterday. So far, haven't seen him.  So, I don't know - maybe I was a sucker. But sometimes it seems God guides you to do something and this is what I felt.  I have prayed for this man, that if he was intent on scamming me that God would convict his heart and compel him to return and repay the money, which would give me a chance to witness to him.
I suppose I will just have to wait and see what happens...

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

What to Expect AFTER You're Expecting

We have recently welcomed our second grandchild. First by our daughter, and this one by our son. It is amazing to me that there is so much information to be gained via the internet and books about your pregnancy and your baby's growth during pregnancy, yet not much information is provided on "real life" after baby arrives.  (I suspect this is because there would be considerably fewer babies if this information were provided first!) 
It is truly an awe-inspiring miracle that a precious baby can be made by two people.  It is God's plan to create a human being from a single fertilized cell.  And the changes a baby makes in-utero are astounding.  And no matter what you read and study, nothing, NOTHING, prepares you for what labor feels like.  It is truly the most excruciating pain you will ever experience and the only consolation is knowing it can't last forever and will be over soon.  With each contraction, you think the pain can't get any worse - and it does, again and again.  I know now days everyone's up for the epidural, but I had two babies without anything, so I got to experience the whole wonderful thing, totally aware. And once that sweet baby is here, you realize all that pain and suffering was totally worth it.  THIS is what you made!  This is the person you wondered about for 9 months and finally, they are here!  And the euphoria comes.  Knowing that you "own" this little person. A person who will love you "just because" you are their mom.  A person who will depend on you for their every need and want.  There truly is no greater joy.
But there are a few hiccups in those first few weeks after the baby is here.  Baby books say you may experience bouts of different emotions.  That is an understatement, to say the least.  They don't tell you that exhaustion will plague you until you think you can't do it anymore.  If you could just sleep for more than 2 hours at a time.  If you were well-rested, the crying and pooping would be easier to deal with.  They don't tell you that every time you are so tired you couldn't be any MORE tired, you get more tired.  And they don't tell you about the days you spend crying because you realize how inadequately equipped you are to deal with and be responsible for another's life.  And the books tell you just how to establish a routine for feeding and sleeping, not understanding that as a mother, you can't bear to see this little baby cry and not know why and that you can't bear to make them wait to eat when you know they are hungry. 
And they don't tell you about the panicked worries- what if they stop breathing? What if their head falls off?  What if I trip and fall and smash the baby and kill it?  What if I go to sleep for 10 minutes, and that's the 10 minutes they pick to roll off something? A million questions, a million doubts.
I watched my daughter do all the right things throughout her pregnancy, have a very tumultuous pregnancy, and her baby came 8 weeks early, with no explanation of what caused it.  The baby spent a month in the NICU, which is also a journey no baby books tell you about.  We learned terms we never wanted to know - apnea, stridor, reflux, surfactant. And I had no answers for her as to why 15 year-old party girls who don't even take care of themselves have perfectly healthy babies and she had a preemie. I could offer no comfort as she had to leave the hospital without her baby, sobbing.  Each day as we walked to the NICU to visit our tube-entwined baby, we passed young silly girls leaving the hospital with their healthy babies - something that was not fair, but happened anyway. 
And you basically lose your identity.  All the fuss people made about you being pregnant is gone.  Now, they could care less if you are there - they just want to know where the baby is.  And just try to find time to shower and fix your hair.  I remember thinking I would never be able to leave the house again!  And when we finally did go somewhere, we might as well have rented a U-haul for all the stuff we took with us!  The dads feel it too.  Sleepless nights followed by days trying to stay awake at work.  And their wife, who previously loved them, now hardly has time for anything except, "Can you get me a diaper?" They are now last on the list of priorities. Arguments and resentment ensue and only time will ease the tension.
There are so many things that only experience can teach you, although it might have been helpful if there were more "after" books and information available!

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Welcome Addilyn!!!

This past week has been a whirlwind of activities and emotions!!!  We have been waiting for grandbaby #2 to arrive, and the kids went twice to the hospital and were sent back home, but each time we were poised and ready, only to be told it wasn't time yet.  None of us have slept well, waiting for that middle-of-the-night call to come to the hospital.  Finally, the real call came!  Early Monday morning, my son called at midnight to say they were on their way.  Called back at 3:00 and said they were going to keep them, so away I went! 
Mama labored until around 5:30 that evening and they decided with not much progress being made, they would do a C-section. So by around 5:50, we had a grandbaby!!! A big grandbaby - 8 lbs., 4 oz.!
So excited to watch as my baby boy gets to discover the joys of being a father, and the awe of knowing you created a little miracle!  (As well as the sheer terror when they tell you that you have to take the baby home with you where there are no nurses or doctors at your beck and call!) 
So, here are a few pictures of Miss Addilyn!



Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Happy Father's Day!

Aren't dad's interesting?  They are very peculiar creatures!  They have permission to do a host of things no one else can do.  They can belch and pass gas whenever they want and nobody says a word.  They can work on something that needs repaired, break it and go buy a new whatever, and nothing is said about it - just the silent nod from the mom that says, "Knew that was coming, just like always", and the nod from other guys at the hardware store saying, "Yep. I've been there, too." Dads are allowed to "play rough" with the kids - wrestle, chase, run, body slam, you name it.  People would frown if moms did those things.  Dad's are allowed to work all day and then come home a plop in their easy chair.  Moms work all day and then come home and work all night.  Dads are allowed to eat supper and then meander off somewhere leaving mom to clean the mess.  Dads are allowed to be in a bad mood and lose their temper occasionally.  Moms must always have a positive attitude and maintain self-control at all times.  Dads are allowed to tell off-colored jokes.  Dads can rev the engine while sitting at the stoplight.  Moms would just look silly if they did that! Dads have calloused hands, and dirty hands.  Dads have stinky, un-pedicured feet. Dads can wear mis-matched clothes.  Dads can wear dirty clothes. Dads can have hobbies and interests. Moms have the kids and housework.  Dads don't have to be home at any given time - they just stroll in whenever.  If moms are late, they are flooded with phone calls - "Where are you?"  "Are you making supper?" "When are you coming home?"
Dads have few responsibilities. Mowing the yard and "fixing" stuff comes to mind.  Moms have to keep house, doctor the kids, know everyone's schedule, make doctor's appointments, remember which child is allergic to what medications, remember the names of all their children's friends, and on and on.  Dads just show up.  They don't even have to pay attention when you are talking to them - everyone says, "That's just how he is."
But dads play one of the most vital roles in a child's life.  Dads set the stage for a child's self-worth.  Most things a kid does is to make his dad proud.  And a father's love is (or should be) totally unconditional.  Dads demonstrate to their children how to treat a lady and how to love your wife.  Most of their moral ethics are copied by their children, good and bad.
I want to say a big "thank you" to my dad for teaching me how to do boy stuff, even though I was a girl. For taking me fishing and untangling my line a thousand times.  For playing catch with me on a hot summer evening, after he had worked all day in the heat and was totally worn out.  For only being married once - to my mom.  For making me go to church and demonstrating that it was important.  For driving a church bus to pick up dirty stinky kids and bring them to church, teaching me that God has no boundaries.  For attending all my extra-curricular activities, even when they weren't his cup of tea.  For loving me even when I wasn't very lovable.  For loving and interacting with my kids just the same as he did with me.  For working hard and not taking vacations so we could have a roof over our head. For trying to do the best job he knew how to do at parenting.  Thanks Dad, I love you!!

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

The Money Changer

I stopped by a local grocery store, and purchased two items.  The total came to $6.80.  I handed the cashier $7.00.  Not sure what she typed into her computer, but the next thing that popped up was my change due, $5.32.  She gets out a five dollar bill and starts to hand it to me. I say, "Wasn't my total $6.80?" She replies "Yes." I say, "So, you don't owe me $5.32. I gave you seven dollars, so you owe me twenty cents." Most people would have thanked me and handed me twenty cents.  Not this one.  She begins looking at her computer screen, rifling through her change drawer and calling for help.  Meanwhile, I'm standing there saying, "Twenty cents.  You just owe me twenty cents.  My change should be twenty cents."  Finally, someone tells her to just give me the correct change.  Now she begins saying, "Ok. Seven dollars...ummm, Ok. Six dollars and eighty cents....ummm."  Rifling through the change drawer again, digging out a quarter and a nickel.  I am still repeating, "Twenty cents. My change is twenty cents."  Finally I see her grab two dimes.  At last!  My twenty cents!
So, would you want this girl handling your cash?

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Mama Could You Hold My Hand by Dana Alexander

Here is one of my original songs, Mama Could You Hold My Hand, written for my mom (who just happens to be the greatest!).
Not the greatest sound quality - phone sitting on piano isn't exactly the best acoustics!
Enjoy!

Friday, May 1, 2015

Mother's Day Doesn't Get Enough Recognition!

Each year, we celebrate Mother's Day.  A Card, maybe some flowers or candy, and maybe dinner at a nice restaurant.  As a mother, all of those things are appreciated, but mothers really should be celebrated more often than once a year. Of all the jobs I have had over the years, and all the responsibilities and pressure, being a mother has definitely been the hardest.  If you aren't a mother, you just can't understand.  Dad's aren't built the same, and don't think the same as mothers. Being a mother is the one job that I totally doubted my every move and decision.  Constantly weighing pros and cons - "Should I let this go or make a big deal?"  "If I ground them and they miss the dance, will they hate me forever?"  "Was that comment just rude, or were they being disrespectful?"  A thousand questions within myself every single day. Always wondering if I made a wrong judgement, if it would affect their lives forever.  And prayer.  Lots of prayer.  Prayers to watch over my kids.  Prayers to guide my kids.  Prayers to lead them to the one true love God picked for them.  Prayers for me to do the right thing in the moment it is needed. Prayers for me to keep my sanity during those teenage years. Will I ever know if I did the right things? 
Mothers wear a variety of hats.  The pschyciatrist hat - listening and advising without actually letting them know you are advising them. The nurse hat - kissing boo-boo's and diagnosing injuries and wiping snotty noses.  The sargeant hat - becoming "the enforcer" and letting them know that you mean business, no exceptions. The limo driver hat - toting them everywhere, waiting in the car for hours, letting them out without speaking to them(so their friend's think they have no parents). The coach hat - teaching them batting techniques, when you can't hit the broad side of a barn.  The librarian hat - reading the same book over and over before bedtime until you think you will lose your mind, then doing it again, just because they asked.  The chef hat - cooking all that you think is good and healthy, only to be met with turned up noses, or "Sorry, going out with my friends." The umpire hat - two opposite stories of what happened with no witnesses. No instant replays, just a call of right or wrong, always considered unfair by the one in the wrong. The love guru hat - listening to stories about the current boyfriend/girlfriend and trying to offer unbiased advice when you want to say, "Dump them." The medical dictionary hat - when you are asked specific questions about everything under the sun, and you try to use all the correct medical terms while trying to make the red color go out of your face. The spy hat -you know, when you sneak around to see if they are really where they said they would be, or go to the same movie as them and sit in the back, under cover.
But being a mother has been the most joyous and rewarding job.  And, after all my years of wondering if I did this or that right or wrong, there have been a few defining moments where I saw into the hearts of my children and knew, they were good people.  Amidst all the fighting and arguing, they were still ready to sock someone in the eye for messing with the other one.  It was OK for them to be mean to each other, but not for anyone else. My daughter wears her opinions and emotions on her sleeve, so we usually knew how she felt about everything. One time some kid at church was bullying my son, so she promptly went over and told him she would knock the whey out of him if he didn't stop.  But my son was more reserved, so it is of him I speak.  Once, when they were smaller, they were running wildly through the house, and somehow a lamp got broken (to this day, they still argue over just who caused it to fall).  I yelled at them both.That night, when I read a bedtime story to my son, he chose "Mama, Do You Love Me?", which tells of a little girl who wants to know if her mama would still lover her, even if she did many mean things to her. Of course, the mama still loves her.  At the end of that book, my son had big tears in his eyes as he said, "That's a really good book."  When my daughter had an especially bad relationship break-up, he sat on her bed while she sobbed and held her hand.  When she had an emergency C-section, he took off work to spend the night in a chair by her bed, helping her with whatever she needed through the night.
So, I guess I did a few things right.  And as the years have passed and I have had many of the kids' friends in and out of our house, I have seen many kinds of mom's and the effects, good and bad, they have had on their kids.  I am far from perfect, but above all have tried to let my kids know that no matter what they did or didn't do, I will always love them unconditionally.  I will always be only a phone call away.  I will always listen to them.  I will always give my opinion on their actions (sometimes to their dismay). I will always pray for them. And this may come as a surprise to some people, but kids don't really want you to be their friend.  They have enough friends.  They want you to be their mom.  The fuddy-duddy. Even though they will complain.  They don't want you to be at the bar.  They want you to be home in your fuzzy jammies.  They don't want you to wear a bikini top to their functions, even if you have the body for it. They want you to look like a "mom".  They want you to be real - the same at home as out in public. They just want you to be plain and simple.  For you set the foundation of their entire being. You set the rules about what is important and what is not.  Your actions set their level of self-esteem and worth. God must have made us emotional beings for that very reason.  We truly "feel" their pain and their joy.  I'm not saying dads don't love their kids, but they just don't have the same feelings that moms do.
And I can't post this without paying tribute to my mom.  For that is where I learned what it means to be a mom.  To sacrifice your wants for their needs.  To say, "Oh, no, I wasn't going to eat that. You take it."  To stand up for your kids when need be. To have that one "look", that needs no words, but lets them know you don't approve. To love them even when they aren't very loveable.  And to have huge amounts of patience.  So, thanks, mom for being a great example for me to follow!

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Is Your Easter Happy?

Every year when Easter approaches, I tend to reflect a little more than usual on the sacrifice God made for us and His resurrection, all done for undeserving people to offer us a free gift of eternal life with Him in Heaven. 
He tried to tell his disciples, who had done miracles in His name, and followed Him closely, what was to come, and even they couldn't comprehend what He was saying.  He told them he would be killed and would rise again in three days to conquer death, but they didn't understand.  And even after he was crucified, they were sad, because they couldn't understand what He meant until they saw him again.  And even after they saw him, Thomas, one of His disciples,  still had doubts as to if He was really Jesus.  But what joy and peace they must have had when they realized all that He said had come to pass.  That He bore the weight of the world's sins by dying on the cross, and that He gave victory over death by rising from the grave after three days. 
I am troubled by the number of people who say they "believe" in God, but don't ever "know" God. For those of you who "believe" in God, the devil also believes in God.  Believing in God is a great thing, but it won't get you into Heaven.  Going to church is great, but that won't get you into Heaven either.  Being a good person is a great attribute, but that won't get you into Heaven. 
The Bible tells us in Romans 3:10, "As it is written, there is none righteous, no not one".  That means just what it says.  None of us are good enough to go to Heaven.  All the good deeds we do, the kindnesses we show, none of it is enough to get us into Heaven.  Romans 3:23 says "For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God."  All of us have sinned.  Not one of us has lived a perfect life.  We may not all be murderers, but all of us have had an unkind thought, told a little lie, etc.  All is sin in God's eyes. Romans 5:12 says "Wherefore, as by one man, sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned."  Here God tells us that because of one man, Adam, in the garden of eden, his sin against God brought the punishment of sin to all men after Adam.  Of course, our punishment for sin is eternal separation from God.
Romans 6:23 says "For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." Notice this doesn't say "some sin" or "big sin".  It means ALL sin, no matter how great or small.  Death is the end result of our sin.  Death means eternal separation from God.  But God offers us a "gift". Have you ever received a "gift" from someone, but you had to work for that gift?  If so, it wasn't really a gift, was it?  A true gift is something given without any strings attached.  Not because of something you did or did not do.
In Romans 5:8, it says "But God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."  This is God's gift - His son, Jesus Christ died for us.  He didn't die while we were trying to be kind and good - He died for us while we were sinners.
Romans 10:13, "For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved."  This doesn't say good people that call upon the Lord, it says "whosoever".  That means everyone!  From the best of the best, to the worst of the worst, all have the opportunity to be saved.
Romans 10:9-10 tells us, "That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation."  That's it, in a nutshell!  That's how you get to spend eternity with God in Heaven.  Confess with your mouth, and believe in your heart.
We all know the most quoted verse in the Bible, John 3:16, "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life." and verse 17, "For God sent not His son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved." 
God became man through Jesus Christ, born of a virgin, who lived a perfect, sinless life, who, though He was tempted in every way possible, remained pure and holy.  And though blameless and sinless, was crucified at the very hands of the people he was sent to save.  Just before his crucifixion, Pilate was hesitant to condemn Jesus because they could find no fault in Him, but he gave in to the unruly people and allowed His death.  And when we think of Jesus' death, it wasn't just a death.  It was a torturous death.  He was scourged - beaten with whips, stripped of his clothing, mocked, spit upon.  Many things occured before his actual death that are so horrific we can't even comprehend them.  And when He had been nailed to the cross, there were two thieves being crucified that same day. One mocked Him, telling Him if he was really Jesus, the Son of God,  to prove it and save himself.  The other knew in his heart this was really Jesus, and asked him to remember him when He entered into His Kingdom.  Jesus told him, "Today you shall be with me in Paradise."  Did Jesus have the power to save himself?  Of course.  As He was dying, he asked to "let this cup pass from me", but followed with "Thy will be done", meaning he was suffering and wished He didn't have to do it, but ultimately was willing to abide by God's plan, however it needed to be done.  And knowing the uproar that preceded his death, the people wanted to be sure no one stole His body, so they placed a huge stone at the entrance to the tomb and had guards placed there to secure it.  Yet, three days later, His body was gone.  Not only was it gone, but His graveclothes were neatly folded where His body had been. He had risen, just as He said He would!
So, His dying on the cross paid the debt we owed for our sin - death. And His resurrection gives us power over death.  While our physical bodies may grow old and die, our soul can live forever in Heaven with God.  A totally free gift!  This gift is offered, but we must accept it.  And for those say they don't believe it, you will.  Romans 14:11 says, "For it is written, As I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God."  So, whether you choose to believe or not, one day, as per the very instruction of God Himself, you will confess that He is God. 
So what if I don't believe all that? Well, on judgement day, when God looks through the Book of Life to see if your name is written down (that is to mean, if you have accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior and asked Him to come into your heart and save you) you will be told either to enter into Heaven, or will be told to depart from God, as He does not know you.  And to depart from God means to be cast into hell, the lake of fire, a place where torment never ends, a place where there will be "wailing and gnashing of teeth", for all eternity.  So ultimately, if I am totally wrong, the worst thing that will happen is I will die, having lived the best life I could.  If you are wrong, you have far more at stake - an eternity in hell.
Today, we are faced with two choices.  Accept Jesus or deny Jesus.  There is no gray area.  There is no in-between.  If you do not know Jesus as your personal Savior, I plead with you to pray what we refer to as "The Sinner's Prayer", and ask God to save you. 
"Dear God, I know that I am a sinner, and that there is nothing I can do to save myself from my sin.  I believe that you sent your Son to die on the cross as payment for my sins, and raised Him from the dead to give me victory over death.  I am sorry for all my sin, and ask you to forgive me. I ask you to come into my heart and save me and give me eternal life with you in Heaven."
If you prayed this prayer, and meant it with all your heart, you are now a child of God!  And this Easter and all that follow will truly have new meaning for you!

Friday, March 20, 2015

Is God for Real?

Recently, our family business has been slow.  Extremely slow. Worrisome slow.  So, we have been doing everything in our power to keep things going.  Cutting back on every cost we can, both business and personal.  No eating out.  Buying only necessities.  The usual things you do when money is not at a premium. But there are only so many things I can do.  Knowing that I serve a God who is REAL, and who is merciful and bestows undeserved grace upon me, I also turned to prayer. Not only that, but I asked my facebook friends to join me in prayer.  I did not disclose to them what they were praying for, only that we needed prayer and God's provision.  I was brought to tears more than once by the number of responses I received.  To those of you who don't pray, and who don't have a personal relationship with God, you are missing out on one of this life's greatest joys.  Even in the midst of stress, turmoil, and worry, I had peace.  And as hard as it was, I thanked God for the trial we were going through.  I had several people message me privately, and I disclosed some details to them so they could pray more directly for what we needed.  But I am here to tell you, prayer carries a lot of weight. The following 2 weeks we were so busy, we could barely get all our work done in a day!  Of course, we need to be that busy for a few more weeks, and I will trust that God will provide the business for us to do just that. 
In all my years of being a Christian, I can truly say that God has never failed me.  He hears my prayers for great and wonderful things, as well as for dumb little things I ask for.  Do I get everything I pray for?  Nope. But after some time has passed and I look back, I can see why the answer was "No." Would I like an easy life with no worries?  Of course, who wouldn't?  But I am content to have my "needs" met, and not my "wants".  And, as usual, even in the middle of a rough time, I still know I am trememdously blessed, much more than I deserve.
I know there are people who don't care for facebook, but it is a really good way to spread the word about something quickly.  We recently had a classmate experience some sudden health issues, and facebook was the venue used to spread the word and I am relatively sure this person had at least 5000 people praying for him.  God hears our prayers!  And there are people who have asked for prayer months ago who I still include in my daily prayers, because you can never have too many people praying for you. 

So, is God for real?  I would have to answer with a resounding "YES".  He is for real.  And it is such a comfort to know that whatever your station in life, whatever your circumstance, He is ready to listen and ready to help.  Do tragic things still happen?  Of course. We are not promised a life of happiness without sorrow or trials.  We are promised true joy, peace and the strength and courage to get through whatever life throws at us. So, if you are at a place where you need help beyond what you can do for yourself, God is where you need to be looking!

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Hold-ups at the Post Office Drive Through

Rant, rant, rant!  When I go to the outside drive-through box at the post office, it is because I am in a hurry and don't want to park and go inside.  But apparently this is not the case for all.  Some people choose to pull to the drive through box and then begin to sort whatever is in their front seat.  If you want to do that, please park in the front and take all the time you need.  If you are pulling to the drive through, the least you could do is have your mail ready so those behind you don't have to wait an eternity! Arrrgh!  I hate waiting!!

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Gave Away My Little Boy

Best Mother-son wedding dance!!

Well, my youngest got married over the weekend.  I guess I no longer "own" any of my kids!  Our house will no longer smell of too much cologne, and we will no longer be awakened all hours of the night by doors opening and shutting, microwave going on and off, and lights being turned on, off, on, off.  (My sleep patterns may just improve!) I missed my daughter when she married and left, and I will miss my son as well.  It's not like they moved hours away from us, but it's different anyway.  I no longer hold the same "mom" power - must learn to hold my tongue!  When my daughter got married, it was totally "our" deal.  We did all the planning, preparation, decoration, etc.  I tend to take hold and run with everything, so it was hard to step back and know that I was only "helping out" someone else on this one.  But the highlight was the mother-son wedding dance.  We managed to keep it a secret from everyone but my husband and my daughter, and although I seem to have lost my "groove" over the years, it was still a big hit!  The link to the youtube video is at the top.  And I hope my son will remember the fun we had doing it.
A couple of pictures:




Friday, January 16, 2015

Goodbye Dear Friend

So, this morning I drove our 14+ year-old chihuahua to the vet to be euthanized.  We got Weezer when my kids were little and they wanted a "little" dog.  I asked the person I got him from if these dogs shed, and they told me no.  That was a big fat lie. I could have made a lifetime of sweaters from the amount of hair I have swept up over the years.  He was so tiny when we got him, and he grew to 8 pounds.  He was always happy to just curl up by you -  if you were ME.  I guess every dog "adopts" their special person.  Weezer has tried to bite the fingers off everyone he met except me.  He always "looked" like a puppy because he was so small, and little kids were forever trying to rush up and pet him, only to be met with a snarl and a snap.  He liked our kids, and a couple of their friends, but mostly he hated everyone else.  Had I known this personality, I would never have gotten him.  But he was ours, none the less.  So, we did what most dog owners do - spoiled him, and treated him like one of the kids.  He slept in our bed, sometimes growling if we moved our legs and crowded him.  He had his own set of signals that I always knew, indicating he needed to go out, or was out of water, etc.  I don't know if he understood what I said, or just my actions, but he knew when we were going to my mom's house, and knew when we were packing to spend the weekend at the lake, and was always hovering by the door, waiting for the invitation to come along.  All was well until my daughter brought home a puppy to call her own.  He sat facing the wall, with an occasional sneer in our direction to let us know he was NOT happy about this addition to the family.  But the two finally came to some agreement to tolerate each other, and once in a blue moon, he would "play" with her dog - her dog would lay perfectly still, while he jumped around and growled and stuck his nose in her fur. It never lasted more than a couple of minutes or so, but I guess he did have a kind heart, deep down. 
He always had "little dog" syndrome.  He barked ferociously at ever other dog he saw, and for the most part, even huge dogs backed away from him.  But one day, he barked like that at a female chihuahua.  She ran right over to him, grabbed his throat in her mouth and pinned him to the ground.  He was not hurt at all, but yelped like he was dying.  We made fun of him for getting beat up by a girl!  And his toenails - he absolutely hated having them clipped.  I would always take him to a groomer, muzzle him and hold him tight in my arms while they clipped his nails.  The last time I did that, I looked like I was attacked by a pack of cats when I left, scraped and bleeding. Then we tried taking him to the vet and putting him out to do them, but he was in such a fizz when they gave the sedation shot, that it barely had any effect.  His last days, my son was finally able to do them, while he snarled and snapped at him the whole time.  I won't miss that part. 
Even with all his faults, he was like a fixture at our house.  So, while I must admit I am relieved that I won't have to worry about him biting someone, or fret over his nails getting too long, he will be missed. 
Rest in peace, Weezer.





Friday, January 9, 2015

The Mascara Sneeze

This is only for the girls - unless you're a weird guy.  So, is it just me, or does this happen to anyone else?  I am putting my makeup on in the morning - foundation, powder, etc., and I put my mascara on.  Mascara dries pretty quickly, but not immediately, so you kind of have to not blink hard for a few minutes following application.  But I swear, the instant I get it on, I have this wild urge to sneeze.  You know, that tingling in your nose when you know it's coming.  Now I am faced with a hard decision.  I can either just let it happen, and look like a raccoon with black marks all around my eyes, or I can quickly throw the mascara tube down and begin grabbing my eye lids to try an hold them open.  Of course this poses a slight risk that my actual eye balls may explode out of my head when the sneeze happens. Some days, it's 50-50 which I'll choose.  And to have to make this kind of decision at 5:30 in the morning is just wrong.  I recently shared a funny to my facebook, which is unfortunately too true: I have the decision making abilities of a squirrel trying to cross the road!