Murphy’s Law is not Mine


I sit here in an ER, all by myself.  I checked in and realized my wallet is not with me: my husband graciously took pictures of my documentation and the kind folks at the ER let me in.

I am waiting to get my stitches from this morning redone.

They weren’t stitches I was expecting – I ended up getting a biopsy on my finger when I went to the dermatologist.  

So distracted was I by the biopsy and to some extent annoyed, that on the way home from the appointment that I didn’t notice that I was doing 70 in a 55 until I passed the cop.

The cop, of course stopped me.  He told me he’d got me with laser far exceeding the limit. I smiled sheepishly.  When he asked me where I was coming from I showed him my bandaid.

He took my License and insurance back to his squad while I tried to keep from panicking.  After what seemed a long time, the kind officer told me told me that he had no idea why he felt compelled  to do so, that he was letting me off with a warning.  I thanked him profusely and pushed onward. 

Tonight I dragged myself to the gym even though I didn’t want to go.  I made commitments I wanted to keep: I wanted to be a trooper.  I worked hard but tried to be smart about it – that said, I don’t know how but I busted my stitches wide open.  After failed attempts on the way home from the gym to McGuyver the wound  and leaving my husband home with the kids at 10:30 at night I left to go to ER.

There was a time I would be angry and impatient and yelling at something like this:  there was a time I would naturally conclude the world conspired against me.  

But today:

  1. I had a car to drive to the doctor,
  2. I had money to pay for the doctor,
  3. An officer showed me mercy when I did not deserve it,
  4. The ER let me in without ID or question,
  5. My husband ran around and took pictures of all my information and sent it to me without complaint,
  6. Someone is going to take care of this hand eventually, and
  7. Of everyone here I am in the least discomfort with plenty of entertainment.  My ouchie is more embarrassing than painful.  I’m not the helplessly watching mom with the violently ill little girl who is crying between bouts of vomit.
  8. The doctors didn’t laugh at me or my Rudolph band-aid.

Thank you, I am just fine.   God is taking care of me. Some nice nurse just brought me a warm blanket.   And I don’t mean to sound Hallmark-y but I’ll take the ER any day as long as my kiddos are safe and warm in the home I will eventually return to sometime in the next few hours.  I will have a comfortable bed to sleep in once I get there when for some the ER cots are luxury.

I will count my blessings today and call out my miracles when I see them…and be grateful that I DO see them, everywhere, not the least of which in my own perspective. 

 Thank you God.  Thank you God.   

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The Parental Juggling Act


 

Parenthood: More than just juggling hearts and flowers!

When you have two working parents, and two children, there are many different things you have to try to balance. It’s not easy. It’s exhausting. It frequently requires a tag-team effort.

Yes, there are the meals that go uncooked, the house that goes uncleaned, and mass chaos but on top of that there are other considerations:

  • Determining which of us is less likely to face career retribution from staying home or leaving early to take care of kids;
  • Figuring out which one of us is actually more tired and frustrated (competitive self-pity);
  • Delegation of triage procedures for toy-related injuries;
  • Which series on the DVR to delete because we’ve never managed to catch up;
  • Which children’s program is the least annoying;
  • Setting a date and time to actually have a conversation not involving scheduling, kids, or finances…
    and the actually managing to do it;
  • Locating and/or remembering what presents were hidden where and who they were for in the first place;
  • Figuring out who gets to eat the treats we deny our children for health reasons (aka taking one for the team)!

Can you relate to any of this?  Parenthood:  a wonderful journey requiring frequent comedy breaks and a massive sense of humor!

 

True Confessions: I want to be like my Mom.


I hear all the time how women don’t want to become like their mothers. I feel sorry for them.

Don’t get me wrong: my mama isn’t the cuddly, Hallmark type. She can cut you down into shreds with words if you get on her bad side, she can talk you into doing things you would never in a million years otherwise consider, and I would pit her against Mike Tyson any day: the power of her stare would make the guy quiver and shrink into the fetal position in a heartbeat.

  • She once tackled me, sat on my stomach and put gum in my hair when she caught me chewing it with my braces on.
  • She abandoned me post-surgery in the food court of a shopping mall because I couldn’t keep up. (Notably, I had had my wisdom teeth removed and couldn’t eat either.)
  • She cancelled Christmas one year on us because we were such naughty kids.

In essence, my mommy is one tough b*tch. She is the badass of motherhood. And I want to (mostly) be just like her when I grow up.

My mama can out-cook, out-clean, and out-organize just about anyone that I know. She will give the clothes off her back to someone in a pinch. She has raised most of her grandchildren for free. She is an artist, a poet, and an accountant, and had she had the opportunity to go to college, she would have pulled straight “A’s” out of pure determination.

BKS would put any executive to shame with her ability to understand the bigger picture of a situation. She will go a week without sleep preparing for a party and making it perfect; she is relentless in her diligence to everything. She never forgets (although she may occasionally get confused) and she is always prepared.

She is the strongest woman I know, and can simultaneously be trusted with your deepest secret and depended on to help wherever she can. She is ridiculously self-less. She has bailed me out of my own messes so many times I cannot even count, and she loves the heck out of me even if I make absolutely no sense to her.

And believe me, I make little to no sense to her. It’s not that I’m so complex, it’s that she thinks I am completely ass-backwards in most respects. She’s probably right.

  • She told me not to move to the City – I did so anyway.
  • She told me I was a fool to go on vacation on my own to the Pacific Northwest, renting a car and staying in hostels up the Pacific Coast.
  • She yelled at me when I called her from the side of Multnomah Falls, telling me not to use the cell phone because I could be lynched or fall.
  • She has told me on numerous occasions that I have far too much fun and that I should work harder. She’s probably right.

Truthfully, my mother’s not entirely sure how I’ve survived this long. I’m not entirely sure how I’ve survived this long either – except by the Grace of God and the help of friends and family.

Anyway – even if I don’t make sense to her – my mom has pushed me to do something with my writing for about 25 years now. I think she knows that inside, that’s what I really want to do, if I can only figure out how to do it. I haven’t managed it yet, but I am trying: if I had half her moxie and drive, I am pretty sure I’d have managed a book or six by now.

I love her dearly, respect her more than anyone, and hope someday to do as I am told like a good girl and to make her proud.

So, Momma, it’s not a book, and I doubt you’ll ever read it – but this Blog’s for you.

Friday gratitude list


Not only am I grateful this Friday that it IS, in fact, Friday, but also for the following:

  • The Chicago Blackhawks convention is only one weekend long. My husband will be in a good mood for weeks afterwards and be extra kind. It is worth the price.
  • It finally rained, and there is an outside chance that not every single flower in my yard will be a crisped husk.
  • The dog may have pooped in the house yes, and even pug poo is gross, but at least he chose a brown rug. Ahem.
  • Some really cool chicks commented on a few of my blog posts and passed them on, making me feel ridiculously warm and fuzzy inside.
  • I have been writing for a whole three weeks now, longer than I manage most diets.
  • My mother-in-law is MY mother-in-law and my kids are MY kids.
  • Today is yet one more chance to greet the dawn and kick some azz! (insert theme to ‘Rocky’ here)
  • What are YOU grateful for today??

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    I absolutely HAD to repost this: this is the type of thing that should go viral, not the latest escapades of the various Kardashians.
    I can truly appreciate this – with especial love for “The clothes that fit a little too snug because it means I have enough to eat”. Never in my life have I looked at my weight with such a perspective – I am apparently a living, breathing dead-sexy testament to a Horn of Plenty. I’ve never gone hungry unless I’ve chosen to – and there are many who are not lucky enough to say the same.
    Thank you so very much for this post today. I needed it, and I love that I get the opportunity to pass it on.

    nevercontrary

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