I could not have asked for a better Christmas than this years. That said, here are a few lessons learned that we can either duplicate of abolish next year:
#10 Christmas lights make everyone happy. Angry Birds themed Christmas lights make everyone think you're either the most wicked awesome neighbor ever . . . or the worst for making their lights pale in comparison (cue demented Grinch smile).
#9 I love big family Christmases. When I was a child, we did one of two things: Every other year, we would stay in Amarillo and participated in the massive Baker Family Christmas dinner (think Robert Earl Keene). The food was almost always cold by the time everyone got there, there were so many people that Christmas gifts were frowned upon (because, honestly, if you could afford that many gifts, you were just showing off. Or you weren't buying something for everyone which makes you a punk . . . unless you just bought for Grandma and then you're forgiven), and nine times out of ten a "disagreement" broke out. Good times. But fun, none the less : )
When we weren't in Amarillo dodging Grandma and her "Where's my present from y'all?" face, we trekked up to Erie, CO to have Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa Fay. I don't remember any other family members ever being there, so it was always like our own little spoiled rotten Christmas. We would bake pies with Grandma and go sledding outside with Mom and Dad. If Christmas fell in the middle of the week and we had more than just a day or two there, we'd go eat at Casa Bonita and visit Uncle Corky who would always pull a silver dollar out of our ears. Those were the best Christmases. They always felt special, even if there wasn't anything out of the ordinary about them.
I was hoping that moving closer would mean bigger family holidays for my kids. We have a big house with a guest room and a huge den that could easily fit five full/queen size air mattresses and still have room to walk, plus sleeping bag room for extra kids in our kids' rooms (well, maybe not Bugs . . . her room is always a disaster. Like the Barbie isle at Toys R Us exploded all over it). But, to my dismay, no one was able to join us for Christmas this year. They all had their reasons for not being able to come up and we had ours for not being able to go down (hubby was on-call all weekend and had to work Friday and Monday), but I was bummed none the less. Until Christmas morning, that is. I woke up and it was still dark out (and before the kids so, like, 3am?) and rolled over to snuggle with my exhausted hubby in my new Christmas pj's (thanks babe! I love 'em!). It was then that I realized I hadn't spent Christmas with extended family but twice in the last nine years, both times because my husband was gone. So instead of pouting about missing out on crazy, cold dinners and the kids making cookies with their G.G., I snuggled in closer and thanked God for our little family Christmas, for a husband who was willing to spend holidays and birthdays and anniversaries in Baghdad so that others would know what it means to be free, like us, and for having our whole family together this year when so many soldiers and their families . . . my friends . . . are spending them apart. I'm thankful that, no matter where wars take us from now on, I will always have my husband home at Christmas time. I'll take that over cold turkey and snoring grandpas any day.
#8 Nothing beats being able to get your kids everything on their lists (within reason) and seeing their faces when they come in Christmas morning to an entire living room full of presents after ten years of getting just one thing from mom and dad and one thing from Santa. I may never go back to small Christmas mornings again.
#7 Buying your kids everything on their lists (within reason) and letting them wake up Christmas morning to an entire living room full of presents is a mistake! They get so obsessed with the gifts piling up under the tree that they completely forget the real meaning of Christmas. No amount of church services and Bible story readings or threats to never get presents again if they keep comparing who has more gifts can undo the damage done by mountains of presents Christmas morning.
Yes, to all you clever observant readers out there, I just contradicted myself. I do that often. But I think I have a plan for next year that will fix our Christmas morning selfishness.
All these years of going to church and I was never taught about advent until just recently. I have to do more research, but next year I plan on celebrating advent and not just Christmas. Each day leading up to Christmas will have a family activity, Bible lesson, and the kids will each get to open one present a day. Then, on Christmas Eve, we'll have a big dinner and they can open the rest of their gifts. This will free up Christmas day for focusing on Christ's birth, his sacrifice and find a way for the kids to do a little giving themselves at the hospital, nursing home or somewhere else in the community. I hope this will become a tradition that my kids will eventually share with their own families (and us, too, because I plan to invade their homes every Christmas long after they've moved out).
Yes, this would happen to an elf in our house.
#6 The "Elf on the Shelf" is just plain creepy, and I refuse to give in to the further commercialization of Christmas (Linus would be proud).
#5 Sedatives . . . must . . get . . sedatives. For next year, that is. No more of this kids screaming at 5:40am stuff. Humbug.
#4 No amount of brilliant outdoor lighting combined with the hours spent outside installing said lighting will draw your neighbors out of their homes and encourage them to come by and introduce themselves. At some point, I'm going to have to man-up and do it myself. Just seems a little odd, though. "Howdy neighbor! I just thought I'd come by and introduce myself and welcome myself to the neighborhood. Here's a plate of cookies."
#3 The Santa issue is . . . well . . . an issue. As hard as I've tried to not put too much emphasis on Santa and elves and all that nonsense, my kids still turned out to be hard core believers. Especially Bugs. She's 10 and still thinks that a big fat man in a red velvet suit breaks into our house every year and leaves her a present. Besides the fact that he was obviously stalking her all year to know that she was good and exactly what she wanted. Why kids aren't completely terrified by the idea is beyond me. I blame the media. Heaven forbid they make Christmas movies and music about the real meaning and origins of Christmas. I even heard a song on Radio Disney by Mitchel Musso (I'm already revealing too much about myself just knowing that name) that says we all need to pause on Christmas morning to thank Santa Clause for all the things he does . . . for Christmas. Tragic. Other than Phineas and Ferb, I've boycotted Disney all together.
Chris really wanted to just come right out and tell them the truth . . . on Christmas eve no less . . . but I didn't have the heart. I don't do well in those kinds of situations. Words elude me and all I can say is "ummm" and "I don't know, I'm just really sorry." But one thing I can do is write. And that's what I'm doing. A book that helps parents transition from department store Santas to the real magic of Christmas without breaking their kids hearts and destroying the whimsy that young children associate with that time of year. Two wonderfully gifted friends are going to help with it, one to edit and one to illustrate, and hopefully by this summer I'll have it in print and on shelves. You'll know when it's done, because this is partly a shameless plug and I WILL try to sell it to you.
#2 Don't waste your time cleaning house before Christmas morning unless you plan on having company. My house was clean . . . and now it's not. Still. Four days post-Christmas.
#1 Christmas lists are great, but there's nothing better than giving or getting a gift that has had a lot of thought put into it. A fancy, delicate robe from your husband, an antique bound book from your son, a dress from your daughter that she's seen you drool over on-line for months . . . or seeing someones face when they open something totally unexpected since it may not have been on their list but it suits them perfectly. Next year I'm going to strive to put more thought into all the gifts that I give (and start shopping before the middle of December). Imagine the smiles we'd see if everyone did that : )
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from My Family to Yours!
Most of you either know my husband or know of my husband. But even his closest friends and family are completely unaware of his dark secret. My husband has a disability. A mental one. It's called OGS, or Obsessive Griswold Syndrome.
While most wives would view this as a very expensive and time consuming handicap, I embrace it. To me (the creative, big project lover), his OGS is a gift wrapped in multicolored LEDs topped with fresh noble fir garland. I'm, of course, referencing the *Award Winning* Gingerbread House of 2010 and the blazing white spectacle that was the 5,000 sq ft my-neighbor-is-deployed-so-I'll-make-his-kids-happy-by-putting-lights-on-their-side-of-our-duplex-too Christmas display in North Carolina, affectionately nick-named the Icicle House. He was over the moon after that one because, for the first time since joining the military, our exterior lighting was perfectly balanced : )
He is so particular about his exterior lighting and decorating, that he has developed a point system which he uses to evaluate not only our home, but everyone else as well. I'm not sure how many points everyone starts with, but points are deducted for each day your lights are up and ON before Thanksgiving, sagging lights, blinking sections combined with fading/running/non-blinking sections, rope lights, blow ups (that's a lazy man's Christmas decor), using only one color (white is the exception) . . . the list goes on and on and, frankly, I don't even know it all and am pretty sure he makes up more deductions as we go. I'm sure there are bonus points, but no one's earned them yet to my knowledge.
This year is no different, except that he's been presented with obstacles we've never encountered before. First, we skipped decorating the weekend following Thanksgiving because my parents were in town. Big mistake. Apparently, the snow can't stay at bay long after Thanksgiving in Colorado. We had every intention of creating his Christmas masterpiece this weekend. That is, until we checked the weather forecast yesterday. Snow . . . all weekend . . . and lots of it.
The ground work can be done rain or shine and so can the icicles since we invested in a ladder yesterday, but the trim lights require climbing onto the roof and that can NOT be done on a wet, snowy, steep pitched second story. So last night my husband, completely overwhelmed by his OGS, mounted the ladder and ascended to the roof where he completed the trim lights in the freezing cold pitch blackness of night. And I, the ever faithful and always concerned wife, stayed outside with him (on the ground), tossing bags of gutter clips and extra strands of lights up on the roof for him.
By the time we reached the back side of the house, we had worked through all the spools of lights we had purchased this year. He was so careful, even spent a little extra per spool, to buy Phillips lights only, since that was the brand we purchased last year and they MUST match exactly. It was only after I retrieved the bin of lights leftover from last year's gingerbread creation from the garage and tossed a strand up onto the roof that he realized Philips had betrayed us. Some disgraceful schlub at Philips headquarters whose sole job is to come up with ways to make even more money off men who suffer from the same mental disorder as my husband, realized that if they added an extra colored bulp . . . purple . . . to the pattern of colored lights, men with OGS will be forced to trash last year's strands and replace them all with the new purple strands or be left to suffer with mismatched strands. So my husband had a decision to make: Use last year's strands on the least visible side of the house and deduct points, or descend from the roof and haul off to Target and risk being gone long enough for the storm to blow in. The stress was almost too much to bear. But finally, he came to the conclusion that missing an entire section of lights (all be it the far back corner) due to snow was utterly unacceptable. He hung last year's strands and took his deductions like a man.
Though, I have a strong feeling I'll be heading to Target this weekend just in case the Philips punks decide to add periwinkle or chartreuse next year.
At this point, my husband's poor fingers were near frost bite stage. I commented, JOKINGLY, that he didn't have to put a clip on each individual bulb and save his fingers by only putting a clip on every fifth bulb. Would go so much faster! What follows is his rebuttle:
"Not acceptable. I refuse to have flaccid lights. Each bulb must stand erect. Christmas lights on Viagra!"
I do love him . . . . so much : )
Hanging our "gingerbread" last year
Pics of this years lights will be posted after the snow stops falling this weekend.
And here they are! I love having a husband that can take any crazy idea I have for a Christmas theme and make it reality. I mentioned possibly doing the Calvin and Hobbs snowmen next year . . . .
. . . he's already researching do-it-yourself snow making machines.
I'm a faithful and devout news watcher. It's an addiction that I've managed since childhood that I fed by committing 90% of my time in high school to journalism, which then led to majoring in Mass Comm/Journalism with a minor in History (they kind of go hand-in-hand). My failed attempt at college did nothing to lessen my love for the news of the day. In my immaturity, I leaned on the likes of "Good Morning America" and the ever vigilant News Channel 10 and their consistant coverage of all things positive going on in Amarillo. As I transitioned from naive teenager to informed 20-something, I discovered the likes of CNN and MSNBC. After joining the military, my narrow focus broadened and things like the Chamber Cook-Off and a two-car accident blocking traffic going into the mall were replaced by the plight of natives in the Congo and China's tightening grip on America. I suppose that being in the military made me feel more a part of the world, rather than just another person taking up space in our little corner of the Texas Panhandle. Hurricane Katrina took this from a personal hypothesis to an understood truth. Like many, I was glued to the continuing coverage, especially after Chris volunteered to go down with the 82nd to assist as a medic. Seeing the familiar face of a neighbor and knowing your husband is right behind him on national cable news solidifies the idea that we are a part of something bigger.
While Chris was deployed to Iraq, I discovered a prime time cable news program called "Scarborough Country". Joe Scarborough was the host, a former republican congressman from Florida who always seemed to be saying exactly what I was thinking. I've continued to follow Joe as his show grew in popularity and eventually replaced Imus and became "Morning Joe," a more balanced a broad political news program that I'm forced to DVR since it's on at 3am on the West Coast (the up-side is that I can fast-forward through the commercials turning it into a two and a quarter rather than three hour show). It's both entertaining and serious, light and intelligent. And it's all politics or the political side of whatever might be the top stories of the day.
I don't always agree with Joe, and I don't always disagree with Mika, his left-leaning co-host. But one thing all three of us agree on is that this country is headed down the proverbial toilet faster than we're able to cut off the water. And sadly our elected officials are the ones holding down the handle.
Now, those inside the D.C. Beltway would ask what qualifies me to have an opinion and, even worse, offer up solutions to the problems facing this great nation. Well I'll tell you. First, I'm old enough to vote and I do not vote based on who is pro-life or pro-gay or whatever. I vote based on who has a plan and whether or not I like it. Second, I know my stuff. Probably more than, say, Sarah Palin or the new trending front runner, Herman Cain. I follow politics like my husband follows baseball. I read the books, watch the documentaries and listen to the commentaries. Third, I am a student of History as much as I am of politics, which unfortunately is not the case for most of our elected officials who seem to think Reagan never raised taxes. Lastly, I am a person with a brain, not a fund raising robot whose only programmed function is to run for re-election. I am a young mother, a wife of a soldier turned civilian, a home school educator and, frankly, this is a blog so I can say what I want and if you don't like it, don't follow it. So here's my plan (the short and simple version for people who work for a living): Federal Income Tax- This one seems like a no-brainer to me. You make money, you pay taxes. You make more money, you pay more taxes. I don't care if you give to charity or buy a Prius. What you do with your pay check is your business. But it's your responsibility as a US citizen to pay your taxes. A household with an income of $50k or less should pay 5%, $51k-$150k should pay 7%, $151k to $500k should pay 10%, and anything over $501k should pay 15%. No loop holes, no write-offs, no deductions. Corporate Tax- Businesses should pay 15% on revenues for that fiscal year. Period. Not the 35% that Comcast pays or the 0% (that's right, I said 0%) that GE pays. To promote growth, you offer a 5% reduction if the business can show proof of consistent growth over a minimum of three years. The business will receive the reduced rate for two years, and after re-evaluation, if they can still show proof of consistent growth, they continue to receive the discounted rate. Again, no loop holes, no write-offs and no deductions. Honest math makes honest businesses. Subsidies and Bail Outs- No more! The idea behind starting a business is to be profitable. If you cannot turn a profit or, at the very least, make enough to pay your bills, you should not be in business. *Note: All you ag people quit huffing and puffing, I'll get to you in a minute.* I was in Kindergarten when my dad opened his own print shop. I watched it grow as I did, and then I watched it begin to level off as I did. But, before the shop started to decline, my dad did what any smart business man would do and sold it. And he IS smart, and I have faith that, with some optimism, he'll find a new niche and grow another profitable business. But that's the point. Do good, or don't do it at all. But certainly don't do bad then turn to the government for money. And if there is no market or no demand for whatever it is that you want to sell/grow/develop, the federal government should not be the bank you turn to for funding. If you can find some wealthy sap willing to foot the bill for your electric space ship, more power to you. But if tax payers don't want it, then they shouldn't have to pay for it. Risk and revenue do not make good bedfellows. Wall Street/Banks- This is where my expertise is lacking. But to be completely honest, I'm pretty sure no one really knows what's going on in the financial system, not even those people involved with it. Here's what I know and I'll just leave it at this: If you want to risk your life savings on something that's not guaranteed and you want to pay someone else to do it, then that's your business and you deal with the rewards or the consequences. BUT, said paid risk takers should be held responsible for obeying the law (i.e. Bernie Madoff). There's a difference between being a crappy trader and a thief. Thieves go to jail, crappy traders get fired. Banks should not be allowed to become "too big to fail". I realize that just because 100 people put $100,000 each into the same branch of BofA doesn't mean that all 100 people will be able to go withdraw that exact amount from that same branch all at the same time. BUT, banks should not be allowed to play a game of Risk with our money, investments and mortgages. Banks are supposed to be the safe place for money. So regulate the snot out of them. Also, all these fees are ludicrous. If an account only has $5 in it and the holder tries to buy something for $10, decline the card. If I don't sign up for overdraft protection and you allow me to make a $40 purchase when there's only $20 in my account, you shouldn't be able to charge me $35 per day that I'm overdrawn. That's on you, Mr. Bank. If you sign up for overdraft protection, then you agree to pay the fee. If not, you can't overdraw your account. Back in the day, we called that bouncing a check and it would earn you the privilege of having your name and your check stamped with "INSUFFICIENT FUNDS" taped to the cash register at your favorite neighborhood Mexican restaurant for God and all of your Friday night margarita chums to see, forever shaming you from that establishment. And why in the world are banks allowed to charge me a $5 fee just for USING my debit card?! Just because the banks decide to risk it all in the credit card game doesn't mean those of us who are responsible "debit card only" customers should have to make up for their lost revenue. Again, Mr. Bank, that's on you. So I guess the long and short of the Wall Street/Banks section of my fiscal policy is "Regulate, Regulate, REGULATE!"E Education- Again, this seems to me like a no-brainer. K-12: For public schools, use what's working. And the only thing working in public schools right now are charter schools. Take the leaders of the most successful schools in America, most being charter schools, find out what they're doing, and implement those ideas into the public school system. No, not all schools are created equal and I get that. But if a school is failing, give it an ultimatum. Fix the problem, or lose your school. If the problem is leadership, change the leadership. If the problem is teachers, change the teachers. If the walls are falling down, then fix the darn walls! Districts should be held accountable by the state and the state should be held accountable by the fed. If a district doesn't allocate money to replace broken toilets in an older school in a poor neighborhood, opting instead to build a new football stadium, then the state steps in, removes leadership and puts new, good ones in place. If a teacher has been there for 20 years but her kids aren't learning a darn thing, then fire HER, not the brand new, excited, enthusiastic teacher that all the kids love and can't wait to learn from every day. Teachers cannot be graded on tests alone. If that were the case, I'd be a horrible teacher. My daughter can't take a test to save her life. Looking at fractions on a piece of paper makes her head spin, but she can double the ingredients to a recipe with no problem at all, and she can measure me, create a pattern and sew me dress without ever second guessing herself. That's how I know I'm not failing as a home school teacher. Public school teachers are no different. A kid may bomb the annual standardized test, but their mom will tell you they've progressed SO MUCH since having Mrs. Smith. The kid will tell you they used to hate reading, but now they love it because of Mrs. Smith. And Mrs. Smith's grade book will show you that the kid, a third grader, has gone from an early first grade level of comprehension to a late second/early third grade level of comprehension, all in less than ten months. That, my friends, is good teaching. Standardized tests should only be used to make sure the school, district and state are not falling behind national and international standards. They should NOT be used to judge the quality of a teacher. *Note: I am a firm believer in the rights of a parent. Those rights should not be questioned or compromised, especially not by the government. If a parent, who works and lives in a home which provides revenue for the school district, wants to place their child in an alternate form of eduction (private, religious, specialty or home school) that is their right and it should not be questioned or the chosen curriculum questioned or dictated by anyone other than the parent responsible.* Higher Ed: College is expensive. Always has been. This is why parents used to have what was called a "college fund" which, in its simplest form, was a savings account parents would open when their kids were very small and they would deposit money into regularly until their child graduated. It's a simple concept, but with the introduction of this thing called "student loans" in the late 80's which turned into an epidemic of loan dependency in the 90's and early 21st century, parents no longer save money for college and instead strap their recent grads with mountains of debt without the guarantee of a pay check to get rid of it. My solution? Get rid of student loans. If your mom and dad didn't save for college, get a job and pay for it yourself. Or work hard in high school and get some scholarships. And a job. Because, like I said before, college is expensive. Also, go where you can afford to go. While I would love for at least one of my kids to graduate from the University of Texas at Austin, I'm very aware of how absurdly expensive it is, especially since it's out of state. There are hundreds of very good schools out there that will get you the exact same education, if not better, at half the price. Save your Hook 'Em Horns! shirt for Saturdays in the fall and go instead to a school that you can afford and whose colors actually complement your skin tone. The "Service for School" Plan: The military has been trying to resolve its budget and retention issues for years. Well, I have the solution. Four years of service for four years of college. No, not the G.I. Bill that's currently in place and needs to stay in place for people like us who enlisted in the military after we were married and had kids. No, this is for kids fresh out of high school who want to go to college but can't. Join the Army, get a roof over your head, three meals a day, free health care and dental, uniforms to wear for every occasion and a good lesson in leadership and personal responsibility. No salary. Instead, four years of college at the state school of their choice in their home state with room and board and books paid in full. They'll have to get a part time job if they want to eat out or whatever, but after four years in the service, they'll be disciplined enough to handle it and not flunk out. Problem solved. Medicare- Again, "Regulate, Regulate, REGULATE!" Billions of dollars in fraudulent charges are being overlooked and Medicare is collapsing because of it. Hire a group of people whose sole job is to seek out those who are screwing the government and go after them. Make them pay for it, then deny them the ability to accept Medicare. Just the thought of the possibility of this happening is enough to scare most people out of defrauding the government. Also, quit with the drug rights thing! Allow pharmaceutical companies to make generic forms of any prescription drug just 12 months after the boutique brand comes out. This will save millions. Social Security- I'm sorry, but if you pay into it, you should be able to get it back. BUT, if you choose to continue working until you're 90, then you shouldn't get SSI until you're 90. If you have millions of dollars just lying around for a rainy day, then you shouldn't get SSI. If you're like me and you have contributed very little because you chose to stay at home and raise your kids, then you better hope those kids love you enough to take you in and support you once your husband and his income can no longer do so. Social Security is just that, SECURITY. It's to make sure you don't starve to death at 87. It's not for paying a mortgage, cell bill, cable, groceries, gas and Christmas presents for all 37 grand kids. If you want to retire, save money for it, pay off your house and don't buy a new Audi at 64. Foreign Policy- 1) We don't negotiate with terrorists . . . ever. 2) Just because you have oil doesn't mean we have to support your decision to slaughter your own people. But Israel has our support no matter what. 3) The best offense is a good defense. The war on terror can't be won when the opponents have home field advantage. Bring our troops home, save money, save lives, build up your military, your weapons and your borders so that no one would dare enter our country by air, land or sea because they would know they'd never make it five minutes inside our territorial border. Illegal Immigration- The best way to put a halt to illegal immigration is not by chasing after illegal immigrants, but instead chasing after the people who employ them. Fine the employers $10,000 per person they hired that doesn't have papers. And the employer doesn't have to prove or not prove that the immigrant works for them. If INS comes in and there's illegals in your fields or in your factory, that's $10k per head. If they come back next week and there's new illegals, that's another $10k per head. Eventually, no one will hire them and they'll all have to go back home. As far as drugs and bad guys go, a fence will not stop them. Not even a 20 foot tall one with barbed wire that's electrified, Mr. Cain. Again, the best offense is a good defense. Since the border patrol is already part of homeland security, make them soldiers. Pay them like soldiers. Give them the same benefits as soldiers and arm them like soldiers. Problem solved again. The Obesity Crisis- Mandate that school lunches be healthy . . . and I mean really healthy, not this corn and chicken nuggets nonsense that's going on right now. Also, if an adult chooses to eat a quarter pounder every day for lunch, then they should have to pay more for health insurance. So should smokers, by the way. Give them six months to lose the weight, six months to keep it off, and if they can't, their premiums go up. Yes, there is a disparity when it comes to poor people and obesity. But the fact of the matter is that it's cheaper to be fat. Junk food is cheaper than healthy food. So tax junk food. Also, give a $30,000 annual allotment to farms that grow edible fruits, veggies and meat (there you go, ag people). That money can be used to support their families so that the money they make off their crops can be used to plant more crops and buy new equipment. If a farmer wants to grow corn for ethanol, let Conoco Philips pay them. Environment- Tax gas till you're blue in the face. The fastest way to get clean energy implemented and reduce our independence on foreign oil is to make gas too expensive to consume at the rate we are consuming it now. Also, invest in new roads, more railways for trains that actually move people (i.e. high speed rail) and cleaner energy sources. It won't make us any money, but the gas tax will pay for it and we'll benefit in the long run.
So that's pretty much it in a nut shell. No, I'm not running for office . . . I don't have the patience : ) But if I can sit down at my computer one afternoon with three kids running around all crazy and having to stop typing every five minutes to get chocolate milk or comfort a crying 4th grader who just got beat up by her 2 year old sister and still come up with all this, then why can't someone with a title and a much bigger pay check do it? I'm just sayin' . . . .
In my eleven years as a wife and mother, I've come to the conclusion that all wives/moms must be insane. We spend all day doing dishes only to find full sinks before we head off to bed. We fold mounds of laundry only to find full laundry baskets the next day. We pick up shoes, hang up jackets, vacuum, dust and clean bathrooms just to find everything back how we found it before we set out to clean it.
It's been a whole month since I started Week One of my Rita Project (I know, I know). I knew my resolution to boost energy and get healthy was going to be one of the hardest parts of my project, but I had no idea that it would take everything I had to just get the ball rolling and keep it in a straight line.
I never realized how much I used food to "feel better." When I would get behind on housework, I'd suggest eating out for two reasons: 1) the food would be good and I wasn't the one cooking it and 2) no additional mess! So if the kitchen was clean, I'd suggest dinner out so it might actually stay that way. Avoid insanity.
I was also really bad about using food to calm my nerves. Life in the military is stressful, to say the least, and when everything that civilians take for granted as "constants" in their lives are constantly changing in ours, food was my "constant." Food and family. I can't think of anything more comforting and reassuring than sitting down with Chris and the kids around the dinner table to smoked pork ribs or pulled pork sandwiches, mac-n-cheese (the baked kind with the crusty top) and a cold glass of sweet tea to wash it down. No matter what bad news came or what plans changed, after dinner I'd be calm and would be able to say to myself, "Everything is going to be ok." And what about when something would hit the fan in the middle of the day and there were no ribs or roasts in the smoker? That's easy! Dr. Pepper to the rescue! It cures knotted stomachs, massive migraines and rattled nerves. Pair it with a big bag of cinnamon bears or Twizzlers and you have the worlds cheapest, most readily available anti-anxiety/anti-depressant.
But the ultimate obstacle I have faced is the reason why America as a whole struggles with obesity and poor health: being fit and healthy takes time . . . and money. In order to reap the full benefits of fruits and veggies, they have to be consumed raw, fresh and organic. Organic in general is more expensive than the food that's been chemically treated with preservatives and pesticides. But buying fresh and organic means that, until you establish a new grocery shopping routine, you're going to be throwing out a lot of limp veggies. Add to that the cost (time and money) of driving to the grocery store three times a week. Sure we save money by not buying meats and dairy products, but until we figure out this new lifestyle (how long things last, what tastes good and what we just can't bring ourselves to eat), we'll be putting money in the garbage in the form of dead veggies. On top of the food itself, there are all these new things I had to buy to prepare the food. No more pots and pans, but instead we had to buy a mandolin slicer, a heavy duty food processor, a juicer and a wok. All I have to say is thank goodness for Ikea : )
We already broke our juicer, by the way. We can't afford the good ones, so we had to buy the best we could for under $100. Needless to say, I don't think you can actually buy a good juicer for under $100 and actually use it every day.
So where was I . . . . oh yes, time and money. Money for better quality food that will eventually even out once we learn how to plan better and aren't filling our cart with staples like nutritional yeast and grape seed oil. Money we'll save when we can eventually fork over the $2,500 for a Norwalk juicer. Spend now, save later (I could fill my closet with Fluevog's for less than that, but that's ok). And TIME, oh my goodness. Making humus takes over 24 hours doing it the right way. Pizza takes even longer. I've never been good at planning meals, so I've nearly thrown in the towel several times and just driven to McD's after realizing at 4pm that the dinner I want to fix takes eight hours to prepare.
And that's just the food part. Being fit is a whole other ball game. One big advantage of living on a large military installation is a free gym with free childcare. But they certainly don't make it easy to access.
One thing you should know about me is that, with exercise, motivation doesn't come naturally. And when motivation does come, I have to seize it and start using it immediately or it will fizzle and die, never to be heard from again. I was blessed with motivation in the form of a friend inviting me to spinning class last week. I didn't even know they offered it! I was super stoked and ready to jump right in, but . . . oh wait . . . my kids weren't registered with CYS (Child & Youth Services). If you're military, you're probably like "WHAT?! That's the FIRST thing you do when you move!" Yes, I know the only way for military kids to do ANYTHING is to register with CYS
Time. . . money. . . patience. . . persistence.
Let it go.
Do it now.
Told you those commandments would come in handy. . . I got this : )
At one point, I had about six different calendars in my house. Chris hated it, always being reminded of how busy we are, so I consolidated and now only have one monthly and one weekly calendar, both of which aren't really calendars at all. My monthly calendar is on my computer, which I love because I can color-code everything without fear of misplacing my one purple pen that Annabelle insisted would be HER color. Another great thing about having your calendar on the computer is that you can, with just one click of the mouse, make it disappear all together. Even though you're fully aware of all the goings-on that are right around the corner, there's no big giant reminder burning your eyeballs every time you glance in its direction.
My weekly calendar is also not a traditional calendar, but instead a big dry erase board that my lovely husband made to look all professional, with days-of-the-week columns and blocks for each member of our little household. This is the calendar that gets a little nuts at times. I write down everything from daily chores to school work assignments on it. I'm pretty sure Chris hates this one, but I did him and favor and blocked it from his normal line of sight with a bookshelf. To be honest, I've really neglected this one recently, being summer and all. I am choosing not to patronize the kids by writing down every little thing they have to do every day and instead just letting them enjoy the summer.
While getting rid of all the obnoxious calendars has helped to lower the stress level in our home, it's made me somewhat lost. I'm a tangible person. I like things I can hold and touch and, most especially, write on. If I write something down, I remember it. I used to copy whole chapters of school books into notebooks just so I'd never have to really study. I assumed the computer would work, but apparently my brain does not process typing the same way it processes writing. Long story short, I'm forgetting a lot.
For instance, when planning out my Rita Project (on my nice, tidy little $.79 spiral notebook), I forgot to factor in my kamikaze trip to Wyoming, the week needed to introduce the kids to their new diet, the MONTH (or more) needed to rehabilitate the kids after three weeks of spoiling by grandparents and aunts, the four weeks I'd need to take off from "exerting myself" after my little procedure, etc. On paper, taking one week to conquer one month of resolutions seemed doable. But, as we all know, everything always looks good on paper. Applying what you've written to real life is something else entirely.
If there is anything that the Army has taught me, it's how to be flexible. Plans change, problems arise. Adapt and survive . . . or resist at your own peril. So in order to avoid certain defeat, I'm adapting my project. Rather than fail due to frustration from missing deadlines I set for myself, I have chosen to move at the pace of the household.
That being said, we're still on Week One: Boost Energy/Get Healthy. And that we have! We are all adjusting to the raw vegan diet really well. I think the part that I love the most is that Chris is so involved in the process. He's helping me prepare meals, the kitchen is almost always clean with his help, and he's taken over the job of "Master Juicer". It's amazing how something as simple as changing your diet can benefit your marriage in such a huge way.
The kids aren't as enthusiastic about the new healthy eating plan, but they're coming around. I'm pretty sure part of the problem stemmed from someone back in Texas spilling the beans (pardon the pun) before Chris and I were able to explain the diet and why we had chosen to do it. When I went to pick them up in Wyoming, I was greeted with, "Are we really never going to eat pizza again?!" and, "But doughnuts and ice cream are my favorites!" Apparently, after they'd put food in their mouths, someone would say, "Enjoy that because you never get to eat it again." Awesome.
But we've overcome and they're enjoying more every day (especially once they found out that cookies and ice cream are actually acceptable if made from the right ingredients). I'd be fibbing if I told you that everything is delicious. As much as I want to be able to say that I like Dolse and kelp noodles covered in ground nuts, I just can't. But that, my friends, is why I have my first commandment: Be Acasha.
And being Acasha means not liking stuff that tastes like a piece of seaweed fresh out of the toilet bowl or has the texture of paper mache paste.
But again, progress is being made, just not on my original schedule. I'll take it though : )
This week's focus is on organization and clearing the clutter. My bedroom sanctuary has been achieved (now if I could only keep the toddler out) and I'm moving on to the rest of the house. The idea is purge first, then organize. Purging has actually been quite exhilarating, and I plan on sharing my "Secrets of Purging" at the end of the week so that you can be as productive and clutter-free as I will be!
Maybe my initial approach was too ambitious. After all, slow and steady does win the race, so maybe slowing down and focusing more time and energy on each individual resolution will help me to have a more enriching experience. Who needs schedules and deadlines anyways? Not this girl!
PS: I have lost an amazing 15lbs and Chris has lost 20lbs since starting this new diet just three weeks ago! And that's without exercising (since I can't "exert myself" till next week, according to my dr.)!
Ha ha! Made you look!
But no, really, this one's about bed, just not in the way you were hoping. Still in Week #1 of my little project and working on boosting energy and getting healthy. Day #5 of the raw foods diet is going swimmingly. Picked up a wonderful little uncooked book titled "The Everything Raw Food Recipe Book" filled with everything from veggie pasta (no, not vegan . . . no soy or tofu here) to key lime pie and mint chocolate cheesecake. The morning barley and alfalfa is getting easier to swallow, thanks to Chris' amazing juicing skills. We may have ruined Bonnie, though. She was drinking Odwalla carrot juice just fine a week ago, but once we got our juicer (not the greatest, but the it's what we could afford) there was pulp in her juice and now she won't go near the stuff, even when we strain it. We're considering putting her back on Odwalla until we're able to get a good juicer.
And speaking of Bonnie, she's really put a kink in my "getting better sleep" plan. Phase one was to tackle the bedroom itself. My bedroom has a tendency to be the catch-all for the rest of the house. If someone rings my doorbell, the dog and whatever laundry I was folding get rushed back to our room. Ideally, every one's shoes come off when they walk in the door. Unfortunately, this leads to the inevitable pile of shoes in the front hall. The kids are great about picking them up for me, but I trip over them later because they usually just toss them right inside the doorway. In my frustration (and usually because my hands are full), I kick the shoes to the side, building yet another shoe pile in my room. Things that don't match any other room of the house end up in there, that big box of outgrown clothes that needs to go to Goodwill got shoved in there. Like I said, catch-all. But no more! A master bedroom should be a sanctuary, a place for adults only. So I spent all of Sunday afternoon putting away that laundry, moving the boxes out and attempting to restore the calm to the master bedroom. With the bedroom in order, it was time to move on to phase two: getting to bed earlier. Chris and I have a very bad habit of staying up way too late. We've never been good at keeping schedules, so dinner all too often falls around 7pm, making bed time for Chris and I after 11. My new mini-resolution (as part of the larger boost energy/get healthy resolution) is to have dinner ready no later than 5:30. If we eat dinner early, we'll have plenty of time to go for our after dinner walk, get all the kids bathed and in bed by 9 and retreat to our little adults-only sanctuary by 10. With five hours between dinner and bed time, we'll have to go to bed early out of either exhaustion or just sheer boredom : )
While it all looks great on paper, even the best laid plans can be completely obliterated by a toddler. She has absolutely no desire to go to bed at 8:30 because it's still somewhat light out. At 9, when it's nearly dark, she starts to get grumpy. The more you try to get her to bed, the more she fights it . . . and the more she fights, the later we all end up getting to bed. It's a vicious cycle that I don't really know how to end. So for now, we will stick with the plan and hopefully she'll get the memo at some point. After all, shutting off the tv and just laying in darkness while she cries herself out is much better than falling asleep on the couch at midnight with the tv on and waking up at 3am and trying to haul yourself to bed.
A few months ago, I picked up a book called "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. To be completely honest, I purchased it intending to give it to my Co-Brownie troop leader for her birthday, but she mysteriously quit showing up for meetings and activities right around that time. By the time I saw her next, it was already two months past her birthday, so I just considered it a present to myself for all the hard work I had to do to cover for her : )
Back to the book. Just by reading the title, I assumed it would parallel and supplement my Rita Project, but it did so much more than that! I've decided to shape my Rita Project around the framework set by Gretchen in "The Happiness Project." The book is a set of 12 resolutions, a different resolution for each month. Since Gretchen and I seem to have A LOT in common (we're practically the same person), I'm making her resolutions my own. The great thing about reading the entire book before starting the project is that she's done all the research for me, so instead of taking 12 months to complete the project, I can warp speed it and complete it in 12 weeks instead.
What I love most about this book is that it's not about changing everything in your life (i.e. moving, quitting your job, leaving your husband to find "Edward", etc.) to create an empty, false sense of happiness, but rather taking everything you have right now and finding the happiness in it. Doing away with pessimism and negativity, finding the little things that REALLY make you happy and encouraging positive thinking are more what this book focuses on. It's for those of us who are happy with our situation, but just not happy with ourselves and really looking for the joy in life. That's me in a nutshell. As Gretchen puts it, "I wanted to change my life without changing my life, by finding more happiness in my own kitchen."
The first step is to lay down some rules, or commandments, that will help when I'm wrestling with keeping my resolutions. Again, Gretchen's commandments line up perfectly with mine, so I only had to make a few adjustments:
1) Be Acasha.
2) Let it go. (That's something I tell myself at least 100 times a day)
3) Act the way I want to feel. (or "fake it till you feel it" from my April 1st blog)
4) Do it now. Don't procrastinate.
5) Be polite, be fair, don't raise your voice for any reason at all.
6) Enjoy the process
7) Spend out, but spend wisely.
8) Lighten up, but sarcasm isn't always the answer.
9) Identify the problem.
10) Do what ought to be done.
11) Don't over think.
12) In the end, love matters most.
So now that I've conquered my commandments, it's time to tackle Resolution #1: Boost Energy/Get Healthy. This is probably the broadest of all the resolutions and most likely the hardest since I'm a junk food eating, movie watching, anti-running couch potato. Not that I don't LOVE to be outdoors, because I do, but I like doing stuff for fun and exercise just never sounds fun. And don't get me started on food. I could eat a steady diet of Dr. Pepper, cinnamon bears, cheeseburgers, cherry pie and coffee for the rest of my life and be perfectly content (aside from all the health issues I'd encounter). So week 1 will certainly be the most difficult.
But I have motivation, and a good one at that. I don't want to go anywhere near chemotherapy and I was recently blessed by a new friend who brought me a book detailing the benefits of the Genesis 1:29 diet, the biggest being that it's cured cancer. Who'da thunk it? Of course when I told my oncologist that I'd be skipping chemo and opting for a raw foods diet instead, she just looked at me funny and said "See you Tuesday." I'm sure we'll talk more about it then ...
So today Chris and I officially started the diet. We got up and made fresh carrot juice, fought through a glass of barley and alfalfa (it was AWFUL) then snacked all day on fresh fruits and veggies. Tonight we're making pizza ... no cheese, no egg, no meat pizza. Should be fantastic! (Really, no sarcasm in that one. I know, total shocker.) I know this diet will be super hard to stick with for the first couple months, but it's what I need to do and Chris and the kids are doing it with me, so that should help.
So Week 1/Day 1: Diet is in the books. Tomorrow I'm tackling the bed. Probably both literally and figuratively. Chris and I have a bad habit of staying up late, waking up still tired and totally blah. Makes for a very long day. So not only will the focus be on getting to bed earlier, but also getting better sleep.
By calling these resolutions instead of goals, I'll be making a permanent change each day and building on that. If these were goals, then I'd simply accomplish them and move on to a new goal, making it easy to forget about the last one since, technically, I'd already reached it. This way, I never lose sight of the resolutions I make early on, always focusing on what I'm doing rather than where it's getting me.
So here's to veggie pizza, carrot juice and a healthier, happier me : )
Question: What could you take out of your normal diet that could make you happier and healthier? Comment below!
It's officially week two of being a single child household and I must say that it's definitely different. My days are incredibly quiet, which I didn't expect. Bonnie is usually the noise maker in the house, so I assumed taking Luke and Belle out of the picture wouldn't change much. I was wrong, which is a good thing : ) Bonnie hasn't had to fight for or demand my attention, she hasn't been bossed around and told to "stop it" every five seconds, and she can play whatever she wants and she's not annoying anyone. She's calmed down so much that she's like a whole new kid sometimes!
On the flip side, while it has certainly been quieter and calmer, it hasn't necessarily been easier. There's no one else here during the day to play with her and entertain her . . . just me. While I absolutely love having all this Beezer time, my productivity hasn't exactly sky-rocketed. Take this blog, for instance. I had hoped that I could write at least every other day, but the second I sit down to the computer, she's climbing all over me or darting back to Luke and Belle's room to try to sneak some of their toys. When I try to fold laundry, there's no one to keep her from unfolding it. I have to get up before dawn if I want a shower, or else wait until Chris gets home.
So while having a temporary three person household has been a nice respite from the normal chaos, I'm really starting to miss my other munchkins. Luke always greets me with a hug and Annabelle lives in this zany alternate reality that makes for interesting and hilarious conversations.
So, T-minus ten days and counting . . .
Over 4th of July weekend, I embarked on a journey I will not soon forget . . . though I'd like to. As you may have read in previous posts, my mother so generously offered to take on our two eldest children for a few weeks in July. After what seemed like and eternity, July finally got here, so last Friday morning I woke with the sun (it starts rising at 4:30am here) and got ready to hit the road.
First things first, I knew it would be a long trip and was very prepared. I was driving solo since Chris wasn't able to take leave (LOVE the military when civilians are involved . . . but that's a whole other story). I had three kids crammed into the backseat of a little Mazda 3, one in a car seat monstrosity and one in a booster. Poor Luke was in the middle, squished beyond all recognition. I have two girls that are prone to car sickness and three . . . that's right THREE mountain passes to go through. A grand total of 14 hours and 29 minutes according to Google Maps.
And did I mention Chris? Yeah he was worried sick. How do I know this? Because he told me so . . . on a note . . . that was taped to the inside of the driver's side door . . . with military issue 100-mile-an-hour tape (that's olive drab duct tape to those who aren't privy). On this note was a reminder to lock the doors but take the keys out first, a reminder to shut the lights off, a reminder as to which side of the car the gas tank was on . . . I could go on but I think you get the point. And the last little bullet said "I love you so much, Princess! And I'm worried sick!" Literally. My husband is the only person I know that can worry himself into 24 hours of mandatory bed rest and an lethal cocktail of TheraFlu and NyQuil. He even printed maps and driving directions and stuffed them in the visors. These, of course, were just back ups though. He had pre-programmed my phone and locked it in navigation mode so that Sadie the Nav Lady would be there to guide me in his place. And speaking of phones, he also installed a GPS tracking ap so that he would be able to watch my every move. He knew I was pulling in to a rest stop before I was even able to get my blinker on.
So anyways, back to the trip. I assumed that leaving early meant the kids would sleep for the first few hours, getting us peacefully and puke free through the Cascade mountains. Wrong. They were so stoked about seeing their GG and Papa that they were wired to the max. Bonnie was grumpy and unhappy with their movie choice. She didn't even make it to Snoqualmie. Car sick stop #1.
(Side note: Portable DVD players are excellent for traveling, but when you're looking at a 15+ hour trip, not even a Harry Potter marathon is appealing.)
We cleaned up and hit the road again, only stopping for potty breaks and the occasional stretch of the legs at road side rest areas. Snacks and Lunchables were packed away in the cooler in the passengers seat so that we wouldn't even have to stop for food. That may be why they call me the Road Trip Nazi .... hmmm.
Bonnie napped (thank God), Luke and Annabelle watched movies and listened to their MP3 players that Chris had loaded with pre-approved music the night before. We made it all the way to the Idaho border (the second time . . . weird, I know, but look at a map and you'll see) before Bonnie woke up. Car sick stop #2. This one was slightly more dramatic because Luke wasn't able to move out of her line of fire. That, and where I pulled off to clean everything up was in the woods right next to a river so we were getting swarmed by mosquitoes the entire time. The rest of the trip was creeping towards a 10 on the stressometer. Bonnie's seat was beyond roadside repair, so I had to cover it with a beach towel and put the regular seat belt on her. She refused to stay in her seat, the other two were fighting over movies and the last bag of apples and elbows invading "bubbles". Not even my headphones could drown out the chaos. I know, Parent of the Year award right here. We approached Idaho Falls as the sun began to set and made it to the last winding pass just as darkness fell. I hate night driving, especially when on a narrow, unfamiliar two lane road that has steep drop offs and large bodies of water just past the non-existent shoulder (all of which you can't see because it's pitch black in the middle of nowhere). All hope was not lost, though. Bonnie had fallen asleep and the other two were engrossed in whatever movie was left after 14 hours of viewing, so I made it onto familiar roads and eventually to Grandma's cabin. I didn't even bother unloading the car. We just went in and crashed. The rest could wait till morning.
Saturday and Sunday were very pleasant. Mom and Dad got to the cabin around 4:30 Saturday afternoon. They're not suicidal so they stopped and spent the night in Loveland, CO. We went out for pizza, helped put up a canopy for my grandma's friend and received fresh watermelon and ice cream for payment, went on lots of walks and just hung out. Pleasant.
Monday morning came and I had high hopes for a quieter and cleaner trip home. I had picked up some Dramamine at the grocery store to hopefully take care of the car sickness and there were no older siblings arguing and tormenting the Beezer with their movie picks. She could watch Open Season (which she calls Yogi Bear for some reason) as much as she wanted.
I got the car all loaded up, tried to sneak off a few times so Mom and Dad would be stuck with all three but they caught me every time, then we headed to the gas station together for the traditional "parting ways" tank filling. I gave the kids their last hugs (Luke will miss me WAY more than Annabelle will) and Dad gave me the obligatory $20 bill "just in case." It drives him nuts that I don't like to travel with cash. We waved out the back windows as we pulled off in opposite directions and suddenly it was very quiet in the car.
As we headed towards Alpine, it was 6am West Coast time and Bonnie's internal clock made it so that I didn't even have to bother with the meds. She slept until about 10, we stopped for a late breakfast at a rest stop in the barren Montana lowlands, then I felt it necessary to take advantage of the Dramamine. Beez didn't like it so much, hacking and coughing and spitting trying to get the taste out of her mouth. Lucky for me, it kicked in just as we were coming into the mountains and she slept all the way to Spokane. I was making record time at this point. Unfortunately, luck would run out as the sun slid lower on the horizon. Bonnie kept crying because the sun was in her eyes and I did everything in my power to block it, but it's kind of hard to drive with the wind shield completely covered. For those who aren't familiar with Eastern Washington, it's very much like the Texas Panhandle. No trees, hotter than blazes and lots of grass and farmland as far as the eye can see. I hauled as fast as the law would allow (ok, maybe a little faster) to try and get to the trees, hoping they'd block the sun a little so Bonnie would stop crying about her "eyes melting." I breathed a sigh of relief as trees began to dot the country side. The road began winding and we began climbing. The sun was going down and we were going up, so Bonnie and I could finally see again. Our relief was short lived, though. Car sick stop #3. Just as Sadie the Nav Lady informed me that we were only 2 hours from our destination.
Did you know regurgitated bananas smell like cheap beer? Well they do, so now you know.
After the clean up, I took it easy on the pass. I had made such good time up to this point that I'd still get in early even if I slowed down for the curves. As we came up to I-5 South bound, it was just dark enough for people to begin shooting off fireworks. Bonnie was in awe of all the pretty "sparkles," so the last hour of the drive was filled with laughter and wonderment.
I came home to a spotless house and a relieved and happy husband. All in all, a decent trip : )
A few things I learned:
1) I have a new appreciation for the Seattle area. The temp still hasn't gone over 80, the air is moist but not humid and I've never had scrape layers of bugs off the front of my car.
2) No amount of movies and snacks and books and music can keep three kids happy if they're squished in a tiny back seat for 15+ hours.
3) Driving off into the sunset isn't as romantic or exciting as it sounds. Staring straight at the sun starts to suck pretty bad after the first hour (or less).
So not long after I started my little blog, I began realizing that I should set some rules for my self. Of course, this realization only came after saying a few things I wished I hadn't, but hindsight is 20/20. While my rules are few, number one is certainly the most important: Don't write about a problem until after you've solved it. Some of you may disagree, explaining that sharing your current predicament with the world would give others the opportunity to provide an unbiased perspective on the situation. While this is true, I can't agree that it's helpful. Just because something works for someone else doesn't mean that it would work for me. And while I could say that I wouldn't let others opinions influence my choices, I'd be fibbing. Once you read something, especially when it relates to you on some level, it's stuck in the back of your head and will be recalled whether you intend to or not.
That being said, now on to why I've been on hiatus. It wasn't a problem, per say. More like a situation. One that I was having a little trouble dealing with.
Right after I had Bonnie, I went in for my post-baby removal (she was removed, not spit out) and had the normal girly tests done, only the results didn't come back so normal. So they did biopsies and discovered that I was in the early stages of cervical cancer. Since this is a military facility, they are very vague and not helpful when it comes to offering up explanations of findings and such. So naturally, I went home and googled the heck out of it. At the stage I was at, it was very easy to get rid of with something called a L.E.E.P. procedure (I'll spare y'all the details). Chris and I had already remedied the hyper-fertility problem, so since we didn't plan on having more little imps running around, there should be no reason to not do it, right? WRONG. Before I could even get a call back from my doctor after leaving several messages, I got a letter from the OB/GYN department saying they decided on a course of action . . . or lack there of . . . and that they'd see me in a year to see if I'd progressed. I finally reached my PCM (primary care manager for those of you who are lucky enough to not have government-run insurance) and she said that TriCare (government-run health insurance) won't allow any procedures until you've reached Stage 1 and are sent to oncology. The girly doctor department is so backed up with post-deployment pregnancies that being seen once a year is about as good as they can do. So can I get a referral to go off post? Nope. Can I get a second opinion? Nope. Can I pay for an off post doctor to do a second opinion myself? Well sure! If you have the money (which I didn't) and if you're prepared to get the door slammed in your face when you come back to Madigan. Apparently, Madigan (or maybe this is all military medical facilities) doesn't take too kindly to us not liking their diagnosis and going elsewhere on our own dime. They absolutely WILL NOT consider any and all anything from an outside physician. Period. So I waited my one year. I went back in, had another biopsy and guess what . . . I got worse. Not bad enough to warrant treatment of course, but bad enough to need to be seen in six months rather than twelve. Yay. So helpful. So I waited again, got yet another biopsy (considering the location I'm sure you all can assume how NOT FUN these appointments were), then got the same news again. Getting worse, but not bad enough for treatment and not fast enough to need to be seen anytime soon. At this point I'm begging them to please just take all the girly parts out. They're all messed up anyways and I don't need them anymore. Of course they would absolutely not even consider this. Because after all, I'm only 29 . . . with three kids . . . and a messed up cervix . . . and I may change my mind and want to have even MORE kids. So dumb.
(Side note: Why in the world is the military not encouraging sterilization? They won't allow anyone under 26 to be "fixed" no matter how many kids they have. They won't allow anyone under 30 to be "fixed" if they only have one kid and are content with that. They won't allow single parents to be "fixed" and they will pay for you to get a boob job to attract a mate, they'll pay for you to get in vitro fertilization if your mate can't do the job, and they'll pay for you to get gastric bypass and psychotherapy when said mate bails on you for gaining too much baby weight . . . . but they won't pay for preventive medicine . . . so stupid. Ok, off my soap box)
So anyways, somewhere in the middle of all this, my PCM had prescribed something to fix my other girly problems (told you they were all messed up) and come to find out, one of the side effects of that particular medicine is that it can accelerate the growth rate of cancerous cells. Genius. I'm sure you're all jumping off your chairs to go sign up for Obama-care.
Long story short, the last time I went in for yet another biopsy, the doctor's tone made me realize that it finally had gotten bad enough. When the lab results came back, she called me to confirm the assumption and to let me know that oncology would be handling my appointments from now on. And that I'd finally be getting that procedure I'd been asking for. I think she was a little put-off by my not upset-ness. After all, I'm supposed to want to NOT have cancer . . . and to continue with the uncomfortable biopsies every three to six months for ever and ever. No thank you.
Get worse to get better, that's what I'd been telling myself for some time now. But I wasn't better. I was actually much, much worse. I woke up the next morning with horrible stomach and chest pains, aching in all my joints and my hands were shaking like I hadn't eaten in a week. Poor Chris didn't know what to do with me. I didn't feel sick, so I didn't want to go to the ER (since with government care you can't get a same-day with your PCM). I just felt like the whole world was collapsing down on top of me. Apparently, there's something called Sudden Onset Hyperactive Stress Disorder. It's what happens when a person copes well under constant high levels of stress but experiences a "trigger event" (my cancer call) that causes a break. Like a normal person's panic/anxiety attack times 1,000. Come to find out, constantly needing to control the chaos is actually a bad thing. My new life motto needs to be "Let it be."
I got over my ordeal in a couple days, constantly repeating in my head that I had to get worse to get better. But I still had to tell my mom, among other things. Then the "Welcome!" letter came from the oncology department. That was so weird. Like they have to be friendly but serious. I deal much better with sarcasm and inappropriate jokes. So anywho, that's where I've been and what I've been doing. Making the day to day more important than what's going on inside. Going on field trips with the kids, putting together Annabelle's bridging ceremony for Girl Scouts, going to my favorite little beach, Solo Point, with the whole family, taking lots of pictures. I know what I have is not near as bad as most I'll see when I go up to oncology in a couple weeks, but it's still a big deal to me. My procedure is July 14th. The kids will be in Texas with Mom and Dad suffering from heat exhaustion, Chris used me as an excuse to get off work so he'll be bringing me fresh fruit and keeping Bonnie busy. I plan on milking it for as long as I can : )
Get worse to get better . . . . and get better, I will.
After being married to the military for the last eight years, I'd have to say that some of the biggest stress factors are the unknowns. Knowing you'll have to move, but not knowing where to or if there will be housing available and what the cost of living is (realistically). Knowing he's deploying but not knowing where to or for how long. We've had one very big unknown weighing us down for nearly a year now. Knowing Chris would be leaving the military, but not knowing when he'd be done with the disability process or how hard it would be to find a job and where that job would be. We knew what we wanted out of his future place of employment and where we'd soon be calling "home," but were we really going to get to be that picky?
Excellent news came last week in the form of an interview. Chris had applied for a job with Saint David's in Austin, TX and had been contacted by two different facilities there who were apparently fighting over him : ) He got all kinds of nervous when he found out he'd be flying down for an interview. Regardless of how much I tried to calm him down by insisting that they wouldn't be spending all that money flying him down, putting him up in a nice hotel and getting him a rental car if they weren't seriously considering him for the job, he was still a wreck when he boarded the plane last Thursday. So much so that he nearly made himself sick and spent all of Thursday afternoon and evening passed out in his hotel room.
Friday morning came around and my day started off horribly. My phone died in the middle of the night so I missed Chris' phone call before he left for his interview and I slept right through Bonnie's 8am doctor's appointment. It was a beautiful day, so of course both kids wanted absolutely nothing to do with school and what I was trying to teach them. Just when I thought all hope was lost and I was about to give up on the day all together, the phone rang.
"You're moving to Austin!"
After all that stress and worry, Chris' interview went swimmingly. Everyone loved him. In fact, they liked him so much that they drew up the papers right there on the spot so that he could take them home to me (I love people who value the wife's opinion). We couldn't be happier! Finally some things can be moved from the unknown to the known column. And how appropriate that we'll be heading to the Seattle of the Southwest. A city with a passion for the arts and culture but with the down home feeling you can only find in the Lone Star State. While we still have no ETS (end time in service) date, just the fact that we're knowin' where we're goin' is enough for me : )
Plus, I'll be able to say y'all without someone looking at me funny and saying, "where are YOU from?"
We've been trying very hard recently to cut back on our eating out. Besides the insane amount of money we save by eating at home, I desperately need to lose weight and there's nothing healthy about ordering pizza or picking up Chinese.
So anyways, last night as I was doing my best to get Bonnie to wind down for the night, a commercial for Pizza Hut came on and both Chris and I started salivating. We don't order from Pizza Hut, but just the thought of a piping hot pepperoni with pineapple and extra cheese being delivered to my door without any effort on my part was enough to make me want to start digging for my debit card. Then they started talking about their current special: Any pizza, any size, any toppings . . . just $10 bucks.
I looked over at Chris and said, "Sweet! I'd get a Big New Yorker."
"They haven't made those in forever," Chris said. Then he started laughing a little and said, "Remember when we first got married and we were so poor and we ordered one of those with extra sauce, knowing full well that by the time it got to the house that all the toppings would have slid off and they'd have to give us a coupon for a free pizza? That was awesome."
Yes, I do remember the time we beat the system and for six months or so . . . until the Big New Yorker was discontinued anyways . . . we used our free coupon to order yet another extra large with extra sauce and never spent another dollar at Pizza Hut.
Karma did come back around in the form of a Pizza Hut delivery driver illegally crossing five lanes of traffic and crashing into us, ruining my Maxima and our Super Bowl Sunday. . . . Lesson learned : )
My poor kids. No one really gets them. It has seemed for a very long time that they didn't have many allies in their little worlds. Luke and Annabelle started off with kids for parents. Chris and I had barely known each other a year when Luke came along. We were trying to balance college, work, marriage and munchkins. My kids got so used to the answer, "We can't because we don't have the money" to anything they asked for, that they eventually started answering themselves (funny how they never quit asking though). We moved around a lot, dealt with deployments and other things the military does to separate families, changed schools, quit school to home school, etc. They were both bullied by classmates and made miserable by teachers who didn't like the fact that they were smarter than the curriculum.
Long story short, there are few people in this world that my kids can count on, but one of their biggest supporters is my little sister. Though she may have been a pain in my rear end during our teen years and regardless of whether or not she's mentally unstable (she knows I'm kidding), she has always stood up for my kids and been there for them through all the tough stuff.
One would think that family support would be unwavering, but unfortunately my kids are often treated like outsiders. They have been ridiculed by relatives when we were thousands of miles away and unable to defend them. Thankfully, my sister is not one to guard her words and never hesitates to stand up for my kids, no matter who it is that's running their mouths. The only thing my kids have ever been guilty of is living outside the circle. Well that, and they're super smart and really good looking and well behaved, too : ) They've dealt with more disappointment than any nine or ten year old should ever have to. We can't do this, have to cancel that, so and so's not coming to visit after all, Daddy's deployment is going to be a little longer than we thought. I know kids need to learn that life's not fair, but seriously. . . I think they get it.
The most recent blow came just last week. My mom had mentioned to them during her visit this past winter that she wanted to try to see them this summer. Knowing full well that plans change and things don't always work out, we didn't mention anything to the kids until we knew it was official. Lucky for me, I was able to announce to them not long after that we were going to meet G.G. in Wyoming to drop them off and they'd be going back to Texas with her to spend a couple weeks. They were over the moon! It is the only thing they've talked about for the last few months (it also gave me an awesome threat to use when they act like punks). Something like this means the world to my kids. Unlike most kids their age, they don't get to see their grandparents but once or twice a year, their aunts, uncles and cousins even less. Getting to go back to Texas for two whole weeks is a BIG deal. They even passed up summer camps and sports so they could go. To be honest, I think Annabelle's bag has been packed since March. But as it happens more often than not, plans change. I didn't say anything to them right away, and I called my mom first to let her know what had happened and to see if she had any other ideas for shipping them home other than UPS (we called . . . they won't). She tossed a few out and said she'd talk to my dad, but the future looked bleak. I decided to prepare the kids for the worst. I really hate giving them bad news. I know and they know that it's not my fault, but since I'm the one that always has to tell them, I'm the one that has to deal with the tears, and the whys, and the that's not fairs.
But a week later, when I thought all hope had been lost . . . dot da da DAAAAHHHH! Sister to the rescue! I don't know how, but my sister (who is a single mom, has a new job, and can barely make ends meet) managed to come up with some money, find a travel companion/co-driver and come up with the cash to make the trip so that my kids would get their dream summer. My rubber-made kids bounced back and are all psyched up again, counting down the days till July. So thank the Lord for the forgiving nature and resiliency of children, and for sisters who are just plain awesome : )
