Into The Thick of It

We ' ve come a long way...

I've had a difficult day. I dread going to the doctor because I'm always going to get more bad news. Ick poo!

So I am taking a quick look back to this photo, and seeing how far we've come in the past 12 months as a family.

This was in the spring. Less than a year ago. I'd say late May. It was obviously after the hair that was incident, where Melanie shaved herself half bald because here hair was crunchy. It was when Brian was at his most sick, I think. These were hard months.

This was Christmas morning. Amazing, the difference.

She has hair. Not as much as she'd like yet, but it's coming. He has facial hair - more than he wanted, because either that day or the day after he swiped it all off with a razor. They're both healthy and happy and beautiful.

Today, I am thankful for these good things. One day at a time for now, and then in a year, I can look back and see the good changes. This is good.

Reverb10 - Make

December 6 – Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it? (Author: Gretchen Rubin)

(Another aside: I was researching The Happiness Project before I knew about Reverb10. Isn't it a small world when all of these good things come together?)

I used to be very crafty. As a matter of fact, I taught other people how to be crafty. I was a Stampin' Up! demonstrator for 6 years or so, and the living room of our house (the biggest room) was the craft room. We had big ol' cabinets lining all the walls, bookshelves, tables in the middle, and the supplies. Oh, the supplies. Every once in a while, I miss having all of that at fingertip.

However, with all the supplies comes ALL of the mess. I hated cleaning it up. I hated being sticky. I hated having paper cuts all the time. Ick poo. So, I went digital! No glue. No mess. I can print them all, or I can print pieces and make my own mess if I get the hankerin'.  But that brings me to what I've made this year.

I made LOTS of digital art. Stuff I'm really proud of. Some of it sold like hotcakes, and some of it didn't move off the shelves at all. Here are a few of my favorites.

I made LOTS of scrapbook pages. I love preserving memories this way, and I'm really lucky that I get to basically use the stuff I've made to make pretty things. That's a good deal right there!

I've also crocheted. I made some scarves, and I'm working even now with stuff for Christmas gifts (so I can't post pictures of that). I made a hat, but then I cut one of the threads wrong and half of it unraveled, so now it's a Webkinz bed for Melanie's dog. (A lot of my projects end up that way.)

I've made drawings - lots of them. Some of those are private. Some of them I've turned into elements and papers and pages and patterns and the like. I need to sketch more often. It uncorks my creativity constipation.

I've made memories. I've made me more me. I've made good choices and bad choices. I've made messes. I've made love. I think each day, every moment, is made up of things that we make.

I like making. Art is in the living.

Live! from Beatrice...

So if you've been around me much at all, you'll know that for several years (going on 4), I've had a good friend and laptop named Clevis. He and I have had some most embarassing moments together, have learned new skills, have crashed, have fought with profiles, and basically had a good relationship.

Until recently.

When Clevis (flimmin', flammin' no good varmit of a computer!) suddenly started shutting down programs with NO warning. Including - you guessed it - Photoshop.

I lost hours of work in the last month. I don't even want to venture how many. Suffice it to say that DAYS total of work were lost. Because even if I did save the files (which I was doing more and more frequently), when Clevis did his dive of death show, the files that were open were suddenly corrupt and could not be reopened. You should have seen me weeping openly over a pinecone and a hiking boot (long story).

Fast forward to the time when we decide that this is crap. That I cannot work - especially with the blessing of the work that I have - with a computer that's going to dump things and cost my over half a day of work almost every day. Enter Beatrice.

Beatrice is a Toshiba Satellite L670. She is a thing of great beauty. She has a quiet, flat keyboard that frickin' flies when you type. She has a shiny high definition 17 inch screen. She has fingerprint proof finish. She has a NUMBER pad (Clevis lacked in that department, and as I have to do ALT 0233 to get the é in my name, it's important!). Her touchpad is the same color as the rest of the laptop, it's just a different texture, so it's taking me a little time to get used to that part. She has a webcam (Hello, Skype!). She has 500 GB of memory. (Did you even read that correctly? Cause it took me about 6 times to type it because I kept backspacing thinking it was wrong. That's over 7 times what Clevis had. *7* times!). She has an upgraded graphics card. She has an awesome sound system.

She has CS5.

*swoon*

Now, I'm not saying that this transition between computers has been all bliss. I spent 3 hours this morning trying to recover passwords for my server and website. That was not fun. I still haven't imported all of my styles and actions and everyday stuff that I had programmed into hotkeys in CS3 into CS5. (I'm not 100% sure how to do that, actually). But most of my major files are moved, my programs are all (I think) installed. iTunes is up and running and making beautiful noise. We're slowly adjusting to each other.

I am pretty sure I can live without having a boy computer. I have theories on boys and their parts that mess things up. Clevis officially fits into that category now.

So, welcome, Beatrice! May we make lots of pretty things and tell lots of fun stories together.

In other news - I have a new hat :)

Cosmetics...both facial and bloggal...

I'm not sure bloggal is a word (as it is underlined in red I would assume not - but well...it's my blog and I can occasionally make up words if I want to. I am the author) but it works for what I mean here. As you can see - new header. Love this collection. It took me WAY too long to finish - but hopefully my muse is back firmly planted next to my backbone and things can continue to run smoothly. There are still things I want to do with the header/buttons/etc, but I'm working on that. I also found those cool widgets over there --->, one for music (which ROCKS - it lists them and links them to videos and albums and websites and everything!) and also one that lists my books and stuff. I love the info on the book one too, although I order mainly from B&N because I have a nook, which I love almost as much as I love my cats. (I'll do another whole post about my nook and it's accoutrement soon. It's on my list.) I'd like to mess with the looks of things a little bit still - I'm working on that as well. As for cosmetics of the facial type, I actually purchased a few things of makeup this past week, and used it. And, I did my eyebrows. Guys, you have NO IDEA how badly this needed done. It was...sad. And a little gross. I feel like a different person with shaped brows. I need to just keep up with it instead of having to go around looking like Lurch for an extended period of time. Makeup. Right. (Sorry.) My face has gone thru "the change" recently. I don't know if it's my age (which we are not going to discuss today) or if it's the change of season or local or what happened there, but it went from having slightly-oily-everywhere-and-very-oily-tzone to flaky-dry-everywhere-but-especially-the-tzone almost overnight. I ran out of my foundation from Mary Kay, which I liked but didn't really *love*, so I wanted to try something I wouldn't feel guilty buying if I didn't LOVE it. I ended up with this in the 720 Creamy Natural color. I really, really like it. It felt like it was powdery-smooth going on, but didn't leave me feeling like a ghost or anything afterward. Wasn't heavy or greasy, and was a really nice finish without being cakey. I also picked up this eyecolor line. (I picked up the shadows, mascara, and eyeliner for brown eyes, and will probably get the green eye set as well - since my eyes sort of go back and forth in their hazel-ness.) I have to say that eyes are probably my favorite part of makeup, although I know it takes the whole to make it work. But eyeliner...I love eyeliner. Anyway - I loved these eyeshadows. The colors were not ones I'd probably pick out to go together, but on the eye - they were GREAT! I loved the gold that was the highlight color, and when I placed that in the inner corner of my eye, it really did make my eyes pop. As I am currently sans contact lenses, and am hiding behind my specs, I need all the help I can get. The eyeliner was soft and smooth, but not mushy or crumbly, and the mascara covered great without getting gooky. All in all, a successful trip to Target was had. I still need an eyebrow comb (mine broke) and maybe some eyebrow primer stuff. I temporarily forgot how much fun it was to at least attempt to look good. :) Perhaps I should keep it up! Lots of fun stuff coming up this week. New blog changes and updates, fun posts, themes, new products. Just lots of goodness. Hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed getting it all ready! Stay tuned for some fun Melanie stories too. That kid is a hoot as always!

It ' s definetely Monday

I say that with tongue in cheek, because really overall - it's a pretty good morning for me. I'm settled in here at school getting comfortable for several hours of work on this rainy morning. I have a seat in my regular spot, I have my tea, I have my laptop and my headphones.

It's just that...they moved my chair.

Now, I know. Just move the chair back, woman! But you see, it's not a "chair" chair. It's more of a mass-produced sectional piece complete with hook thingies hanging out of the sides and really bad upholstery and the square table that does not fit with the sort-of-half-circle that the seating is. Observe:

The problem lies herein: This seat is heavy. And this room is crowded with people that I do not want to interrupt. Unlike me, who sits here every day and mooches off of the school's cheap seating and internet activity, they pay (or at least their parent's do) to be here and these kids, it appears, are attempting to study. They must be the ones that actually want to graduate and make a career for themselves. And who am I to let my OCD distract them from their pursuits?

I am the woman whose chair is facing the WRONG WAY!!

I'm not looking at the wall anymore. That's what I normally look at. It's nice. It's private. It's non-distracting. Now, I'm sitting here looking at people. The whole crowded room of them.

I'm watching the little geeky couple get to know each other. (I was SO this girl in highschool.) And the guy thinks that he has struck gold. I'm rooting for them - because they seem so sweet and sincere as they are exchanging phone numbers and email addresses, and as he walks away, she covers her mouth and giggles and turns red. Horribly sweet. Reminds me of school. But am I working? Nope. I'm helping her doodle their names on her notebook.

I'm watching the Asian boys who carry their school supplies in a plastic shopping bag from the WSU bookstore. They carry around clipboards in there because it's a good way to work. The other guy carries his laptop in his hands, not in a bag. And they are NOT messing around, people. They are firing off challenges and questions to each other in their native tongue (which I am clueless to) and they are not distracted by anything else around them.

Like the janitor who is on a break next to the windows, drinking coffee from The Hanger. He is mostly watching the group of 'popular girls' in the corner who are so NOT studying but whom are observing the cute guy at the next table who IS trying to study. The janitor is trying to be sly about it - but seriously, if I can see it, I'm pretty sure other people can too.

Then there are the group of desks in the corner over there with little dividers in between them so that people can seriously work. There is no talking in that area. There is no SOUND in that area. If you make a noise over there, 5 other sets of eyes peek up over the divider and glare at you. (I know this because I mistakenly thought that this would be an excellent, no distraction way to work one day a few weeks ago. It's not. The pressure of being completely silent totally outweighs any of the benefit that might be there from sitting in an enclosed area with no distractions. The fear of being a distraction is paralyzing.)

How am I supposed to get any work done here, people? This is a smorgasbord of blog fodder! One that the people person in me loves a whole lot. I will really have to try to get into the zone and finish this collection in spite of the inspiration around me. Talk about a trial!

Also, I can pretty much guarantee that the person who sits here after me will take one look at this, our favorite spot, and say, "Hell no!" and move the seat back. That way when I get here on Wednesday morning, I'll be put out because my seat is moved again and I can't see all the people.

That's just the way that Monday works!

Hope yours is great :).

Ah! My Eyes! (the story of the ER)

Well, it finally happened. Melanie had to go to the ER. Fortunately, there were no broken bones or blood gushing...well. There were no broken bones.

I should set the stage.

Brian and I are at school. It is a lovely, blustery Friday afternoon. He has finished two out of three classes. I have finished a few things in Photoshop and a morning of waiting on YouTube to finish buffering videos that I wanted to watch (which never really happened). We had finished our lunch, after it had been blown about by the winds of change - err....- the winds of Central Ohio outside (including plopping my delicious sandwich meat side down on the ground and scattering my olives and mushrooms in the wind). We were back inside the building, and had found decent seating. Brian was doing his math homework, and I was getting ready to go to the bathroom.

A slight aside on the bathroom thing.

The reason I must needs go to the bathroom when Brian is there is because I need someone to watch all of my stuffs. It is not because I am afraid to go on my own; it's that I have to take both bags - the bag with my 17 inch beloved laptop, my Bamboo touch tablet, my hard drives and notebooks and assorted goodies in it, along with my purse (which should probably just be called a carryall, because well - I carryall sorts of crap in there) into the stall with me. Both bags being on my shoulder, I then have to try to turn around 180 degrees to get my tushie towards the toilet and put the bags DOWN on the ground, because I fear that they will break either the strap of the bag or the hook on the door should I try to hang them up. Then it's a matter of trying to get the bags to stand up against either the stall or the door and not fall down, risking scaring the person in the next stall or the person standing right outside my door (although I guess sitting on the toilet is as good a place as any to be scared...) or even worse - presenting the strap to a thief who may then steal my laptop or my purse and ascond with it while I am in a compromised position. Going to the bathroom at WSU is not my favorite thing to do, and this is all BESIDE the fact that I have a public bathroom "thing".

So, this is why I try to go to the bathroom when Brian is there to babysit my stuff.

Back to the story.

I go to the bathroom, and I have my cell phone in my pocket (which is another fiasco all of it's own, because if you leave it in your back pocket it falls out when you try to go to the bathroom, but if you hold it in your hand, you have to put it on the toilet paper thingy and risk forgetting it).  Today it was a little funny though, because the stalls were pretty full in there (not uncommon) and I could hear all these girls sitting on the toilet texting. I don't know if they were texting each other or people that did not know that they were in the bathroom. I'm guessing the second, because well - it's weird to text when you're knowingly texting from the toilet. Anywho, I set my phone on the toilet paper thingy to go about my business, and it starts ringing - which vibrates the entire thing and shakes ALL of the stalls. I quickly try to silence it, and look at the number, but don't recognize it. I figure that if it's important someone will leave me a message and I finish what I was in there to do. (And that's all I'm going to say about that.)

So, I start walking back to Brian and the phone does it's "you've got a message" thing to me. I listen to it, and it's the nurse's aide from Melanie's school. "Hello, Melanie's mom. This is Cindy, the school nurse's aide at blah blah blah school. If you could please call me as soon as you get this message regarding Melanie I'd appreciate it. Thank you." At first, I thought that it was something to do with her falling, which she is doing all the time, and that she had a scrape or some sort of something or other. I didn't panic, just decided to go ahead and call the lady back.

So I got a hold of Nice Cindy. Nice Cindy tells me:

"Mrs. Edwards, we have a problem with Melanie. She is here in the nurse's office with me."

"What kind of problem? Is she ok?"

"Well, she was down here a little after 12:00 saying that she did not feel well and had a stomach ache. She laid down for a little while, but then went back to class before I had the chance to call you."

(There is a long pause here - so I guess I had to say something.)

"I see." (It sounded maternal.)

"Well, she is back now. Miss Teacher sent her down here because Melanie came to her out of the restroom in the classroom and told her that there was blood on the toilet paper. Melanie says that she is also in a pretty fair amount of pain in her stomach region."

"Oh my. Okay - is Melanie there? May I speak with her?"

"Oh. Well, I guess that would be ok."

(As a side note - why would it NOT be ok for me to talk to my kid on the phone? I want to ask her questions and see what the story is - I mean, who is going to know if she's faking it or not better than me? I was a little annoyed at Nice Cindy at this point.)

Melanie gets on the phone (after I hear Nice Cindy say "Your MOTHER would like to speak to you." "Mother?" good grief - she's not in trouble!)

Melanie says:

"Hi Mommy!"

"Hey sweets! Are you ok?"

"Well, you know when you told me to do the thing if I had problems with the thing? Well I had the thing so I did the thing."

Blank silence.

"Melanie, you're going to have to be a little more specific."

"Mom, I *can't*! There's someone IN here!"

I hit myself in the forehead with my palm.

"Ok Melanie. I'm going to ask you some questions ok? You tell me yes or no."

"Okay, thanks Mom."

"Ok. No problem. Nice Cindy tells me that you had some problems in the bathroom. Is this true?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Does your tummy still hurt?"

"A little bit - not as bad as before, but it does still hurt."

"Does it feel like you're going to throw up, or like it just hurts?"

"Both."

"Was their blood?"

"Yes."

"From which hole?"

Silence.

"Melanie?"

"Mom, I can't answer that."

Oh. Right. Saying "my butt hole" in front of Nice Cindy would be a little obvious. Duh, mom!

"Ok, Melanie. Was there blood when you went to the bathroom on the toilet paper?"

"Yes."

"Did you go pee?"

"Yes."

"Did you go poop?"

"Yes."

This does not narrow anything down.

"Ok Melanie. I'm going to come and get you and we'll see if we need to go to the doctor, okay?"

"Mom - do I have to miss school?"

This is when I know that my kid is not faking this. I mean SERIOUSLY - if you know my kid AT ALL, missing school is tetra-mount to almost death. She hates Saturday and Sunday because she does not get to go to school. The one day that she did miss last year when she had a fever, you'd have thought the world had ended.

"Melanie - if this is a problem in your tummy, then we need to get it looked at. I'll be there in 20 minutes, ok?"

"Ok Mommy. I'm sorry!"

"Dude - don't apologize! We'll take care of it!"

Nice Cindy returns to the phone.

"Cindy, thank you. I'll be there in 20 minutes to get Melanie and sign her out of school."

"Okay! Thank you! Have a nice day!"

How does one have a nice day when one has a child that is bleeding from either Hole Number 1 or Hole Number 3? (Hole Number 2 only entered my mind for a brief second, and I dismissed it immediately. She is only 7, and I do have to keep my brain from imploding.)

So, Brian and I race from WSU to the elementary school, discussing along the way what the plan will be. We will go home after we retrieve Mel, because I want to....erm....observe the situation for myself before I go rushing off to a hospital or something. We discussed a few different hospital options, and ended up saying that we would go to the one closest to us because if she indeed WAS bleeding from somewhere, then well - getting lost downtown was probably not in our best interest.

We pull up at the school and went in to get her. She was waiting in the office with her stuff, and Brian signed her out while I introduced myself to the secretary (not Nice Cindy - I didn't get to meet her). We walked out to the car, and Melanie asked us, "Do we have to go to Urgent Care?"

I told her, "I'm not sure yet. I want to check things out first at home."

"Check things out?"

"Yes. I have questions and I want to look at things."

"Things?"

"Yes. I need to make sure that there is nothing that looks strange and see where the blood is coming from."

"Oh, great."

That last statement was said with a red face and a lot of sarcasm, in case you can't read it in those quotes.

During this point and time, I am trying to save a little dignity for Brian. You see, he does not like to errm...blur certain lines. Seeing Melanie sans clothes - not his thing. Peeing with the door open for any of us - not his thing. Talking about poop or other bodily functions - not his thing. (Can you imagine when this kid starts her monthly friend? Heaven help us all.) Anyway - I was trying to save Brian from being really embarrassed and Melanie from the same situation. This turns out to be a moot point later, but I don't know this at the time.

In Melanie's room, she had to disrobe and I had to look at her tushie. (We call anything that is covered by underpants "tushie". I figure she does know the real names for all her "parts", but we don't need to be throwing them around - nor do I want her throwing them around in public. If she is in a private conversation with me, she'll use the afore mentioned "Hole Number 1, Hole Number 2, Hole Number 3" reference. It works for us.) I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the tushie region - but then again, I am no expert. However, she had to pass the wiping test, so we went into the bathroom to try that one. Wipe from the front - no blood. Wipe from the back - blood.

"Okay. We're going to the ER."

So, back in the car we go, and down the road to the hospital. We walk into the ER, and the nurse behind the desk asks if he can help us. His name is Tony. Brian and I have seen Tony so many times that I know Tony by name, and he at least knows that someone in our party is named "Beck". I say that my daughter needs seen because she has rectal bleeding.

You could have dropped a pin.

"Rectal Bleeding?" (the B was capitalized in his head. I know it was.)

"Yes. She was sent home from school with rectal bleeding."

"It is still bleeding?"

"It was just now at home."

A beat of silence.

Two beats of silence.

"Okay then!"

People, those nurses started moving - and I do mean moving. One was filling out paperwork, one was punching in things in the computer. We were led straight into the triage room, and Melanie was hooked up to a BP cuff and assorted other machinery. She was holding her stuffed owl, looking SO red in the face. They were showing her the little page with the faces on it asking her to rate her pain - and she kept telling them "It doesn't hurt now - but it did earlier." I'm not sure why they couldn't comprehend that it didn't hurt now, because they kept asking her over and over. Anyway - she was all triaged and ready to go, so they led us straight back into room 17. We (Brian and I) had been there before.

We're closely acquainted with the ER rooms.

So, we get in there, and the nurse goes off to find a gown that Melanie can wear. She comes back with this teeny tiny thing with pink animals on it - I thought at first it was pigs, but it was elephans, dinos, fishes - just a bunch of pink animals. Her tushie is totally hanging out, so she is covered with the sheet too. Melanie says after the nurse leaves:

"Mom, is it going to be a girl doctor?"

"I'm not sure kiddo. But either way it will be someone who knows what they are doing and they are a professional. They'll take good care of you, and I'll be here the whole time. So will daddy."

"Okay."

So, Brian and I are situating ourselves. Melanie is comfortable in the bed, watching the Disney channel on TV. Brian sits closer to the door and pulls out the laptop, and I sit up by Melanie's head and am talking to her about Phineas and Ferb. The nurse comes in, and is shortly followed by the doctor. He's an elderly older chap with next to no hair, and he starts asking me questions as soon as he enters the room.

"So, how long has this been happening?"

"Well, they called me from the school and told me about it. She has had this issue once before, and I told her that she needed to tell me if it ever happened again, so here we are."

"Well, things like this are normally not anything serious in children her age. It's probably a small tear or a hemorrhoid, so it will just have to be something you'll watch. But we'll need to take a look."

"Oh, good!"

(This relieved my thoughts of my baby having to have A) a colonoscopy and B) an IV. Both were freaking me out.)

The doctor turns over to Melanie and says:

"Ok, dear. Let's have a look."

The nurse is Suzy Helperton, and she helps Melanie turn with her back facing us, towards the wall, and pulls the sheet up. There are two little tushie cheeks peeking out. The problem with all of this? They are peeking out straight towards Brian.

Brian is looking at me with his eyes as big as balloons and not making a sound nor a move.

The doctor walks over and well....

Let's just put it this way: in order to examine a rectal area, one must be able to clearly see the rectal area. The doctor had lubricating gel and gloves on, and did what he needed to do. The problem was? Brian had no gloves for his eyes.

The good news? Melanie had no clue that her daddy saw her tushie that way. It's better left that way, in my opinion.

I was DYING. Trying to hold it together and think about the subject matter at hand, but good gravy. Brian's face was priceless. If I had been thinking at all, I would have pulled out my iPhone and snapped a picture.

Doctor Grandpa:

"Sure enough, Mom. It's just a small tear. She needs to keep the area very clean - flushable wipes are a great idea. Also, some warm baths several times a day for the next several days. Lots of fiber. Fruits and veggies. Keep everything soft in there while things are healing."

"Great. Thank you so much!"

Doctor Grandpa and Nurse Helperton leave. Brian is still looking straight ahead. I'm trying to hold it together and help Melanie get dressed. Suddenly, Melanie asks us...

"Guys, is this hepatitis?"

Both of us:

"WHAT?!"

I am now doubled over laughing. I mean DYING. Brian does not find this as funny as I do.

"Melanie, this has NOTHING to do with hepatitis. You should not even think that. You should not even SAY that. Where did you get hepatitis?"

We didn't ever figure it out while we were there - but I think now that she got hepatitis and hemorrhoids mixed up. At least they're both H words.

Glory.

We made it through our first ER visit. We'll be laying low for the next couple of days with lots of warm baths and relaxing with fruits and vegetables.

I'm pretty sure that Brian needs a new set of eyeballs, though.

This stuff cannot be made up, dudes.  Heaven help us all :)

Back in the groove

Melanie started school today. Second grade - can you believe it?! It seems totally unreal to me that this tiny little pixie of a girl is 7 years old and in 2nd grade now. She has a brand new teacher today (new to the school, not just new to her), and most of her friends were in different classes when I took her in, which made her very apprehensive. This of course, made me feel like dog dookie on the bottom of someone's shoe.

I remember going to school each new year and wishing that most of my friends would be in my classroom with me. I also remember wishing that some of those people would be in other classrooms instead of mine!! Do you know (you probably don't since I'm just now writing this out and telling you)  that I wished EVERY SINGLE YEAR that one girl would be in a different class as me. And EVERY SINGLE YEAR from Kindergarten to 10th grade she was in every single class with me. I mean, think about it here: we're talking in high school, every time the bell rang and we switched classes to another one, she was in EVERY class with me. Walking the halls. Sitting pretty close to me in the room. Getting better grades than I.

School is not always easy, friends.

Anyway, back to Melanie.

I really look forward to getting to know her teacher. It may be the teacher in me from homeschooling her for Kindergarten and the first part of 1st grade, but I want to know who is teaching her things. How she plans on helping her excel. Last year, she was in a special reading group of only 5 first graders that left class twice a week to read at their level, which was higher than the rest of the first years. She LOVED that - it was called Book Club, and they got to write about and draw pictures of and read books that were at a more interesting reading level for her. I hope they offer something like that for her this year as well; she has been reading for as many hours as she can each day, including over half of the Harry Potter series, which we have loved talking about together. She read some 3000 pages this summer of chapter books - not picture books. I love that I have a little reader. Makes me silly proud!

We were getting out of the car this morning to walk in and get her in the right place, and I was doing the anal mom thing: "Do you have your lunch money? Do you have your pencil case? Do you have all the classroom supplies?" (Which I KNEW she had, because I had checked her backpack twice yesterday and then once this morning.) She calmly answers me, "Mom, I have everything in here, including my dignity." *SNORT* I said, "Dude, you better put your dignity in your back pocket. You'll be hanging that backpack up on the hook, and you don't ever want your dignity that far away." "Good point, Mom. Thanks."

I love this kid!

Chokes & the Choker

I have a kidlette with Strep. She is not a happy camper. This particular strain of strep includes vomiting and rash and headache. None of those things are fun, really. Sick kids are a lot of work, and they whine a little too.

Mel was irrationally emotional about this entire thing this time though. She was just heartbroken to be sick. And then, the vomiting started.

On the futon.

Next to Brian.

I ran for a plastic bag as she is holding both of her hands over her mouth to try to keep things in. Got back with the bag, and thought for sure that Brian would run for the vomit-free hills. He didn't. He sat there beside her, and consoled her. He didn't even gag.

I was impressed.

In the midst of this illness, she has come up with lots of new "chokes". Chokes are jokes, but with the wrong first consonant, and well...not as funny. We have been told several in the last few days though. Here is a short sampling.

1. Why did the bee get married? --- Because he found his honey.


2. Why won't a bear wear socks? --- Because he likes to walk on his bear feet.


3. What do you get when you cross a camera and a mouse? --- Cheese!


4. What do basketball players and babies have in common? --- They both dribble.


5. What happens when you illegally park your frog? --- He gets toad away

You see what we deal with.

There's also a small problem of the Choker. Now, to me, someone who is actually "a choker" would be scary. I just finished a Nora Roberts book called The Search and it was about a man who choked his victims. It would give me the heebie jeebies. Melanie has the heebie jeebies from Brian's comforter, which has Batman (shock, surprise) and the Joker on it. To hear her tell it though, that Choker has an evil side.

It would seem to me that all Chokers have an evil side, but that not all Jokers do. I mean - look at my kid! She certainly doesn't have an evil side.

Unless you count that getting up at the butt crack of dawn thing.

Or the taking the last of my emergency stash of chocolate.

Or the putting her cold little hands on me in the middle of winter.

Ok, maybe she does have a little streak.

Now if we could just get those beginning consonant sounds correct, there would be a little less confusion involved :)!

Stoney Creek

We live in a neighborhood with no name. It's got several streets and curvy windy cul-de-sacs, but there is no placard anywhere that says "Welcome to Willow Heights" or "Entering Garden Hills". I'm starting to feel lost, so I started to look around my neighborhood and figure out what kind of name we need to have here.

Every house here is brick, so I thought of doing something with that. But well, brick brings to mind some songs that I really don't want to be singing every time I drive into the neighborhood. As I drove around though, there were certain things that were starting to become the norm in front of all the houses.

*Note: these pictures were not taken in my neighborhood in order to protect the insanity innocent.

The people we live around have an obsession with animals made of stone. The most popular seems to be geese. I can relate to this somewhat. When I was growing up my grandmother had a goose and a gander - and they had new outfits for every season. They sat on our front porch steps proudly. It was often my job to dress them. Creaped me out.

The stone dogs are a little nerve-wracking. I don't know if these are just random dogs they picked up at "We R Stoned Animals", or if they are like stone-enhanced taxidermy for their own precious Fido that has passed on. There are people here who dress their stone dogs too.

There are stone cats of the regular variety - as in non-Budda like - but there are a few chubby little fellows like these two with their japa mala's too. The Budda kitties do not normally get dressed - they are content in their nakedness. The real kitties have a harder time of it though. They get dressed in baby dresses and little tuxedos and the like. Disturbing.

I know that stone lions at the end of the drive are pretty norm. I mean, not in every neighborhood or anything. But here, they don't sit at the end of the driveway. They sit on the porch. Or on the sidewalk right in front of the front door. They are never dressed. The king of the jungle needs no adornment. He's pretty popular in this area.

We are the only people in our block who do not have a stone pet of some sort. I've spoken to Brian about it, and although I really don't want to try to make clothes for a stone goose (the only one that I know how to make clothes for), I don't really want a stone animal in my yard. There are a few reasons why. First of all, I'd stub my toe on it every single time, no matter what. Second of all, it would get covered up in some sort of mud or moss or something, and I'd have to give said stone animal a sponge bath. Third, I don't think I want to fit into the neighborhood quite that much.

So, Stoney Creek it is. I'm not sure if it refers to the animals, or to the people. It may be a 50/50 split.

Welcome to Stoney Creek.

Emotional and Mental Constipation

I have too many thoughts. But I can't get any of them to come out clearly.

I assure you that this isn't a normal situation for me. The too many thoughts thing. And it's especially not the norm for me to not be able to express myself, either verbally (no comment from my brother), in writing, or through my art. I'm attributing it to the following three things:

1. I read Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It has really pushed my thoughts beyond their normal everyday scope, especially in light of my own recent spiritual crisis, as it were. Thoughts about balance, spirituality, and basically figuring out who I am are always present in my mind. I think it bears another reading, and perhaps a listening or two, and continued thoughts.


2. My CFS is really stretching me to my limit. I do believe that it's all intertwined; the more physically tired I am, the more mentally strained things get, and also a very direct vice-versa. I do have a doctor's appointment on Wednesday, to see if there is a way to try to get a grip on things.


3. There are so many legal matters going on that I am covered with hives and itch all the time. This is making me irritable and cranky, which is in turn making me doubt all the thoughts that I've been thinking which could in turn be positive.

I can't create anything. My art looks like a huge mess. I have all these ideas I want to write about (more than I care to admit here on a blog), but I feel ridiculous and just stunted when I try to do anything with words - including speak them.  My communication with my family is all wonky. I have phone calls and appointments coming out of the wazoo with lawyers and representatives this coming week that could drastically change my life forever.

Plus I need to work in order to keep my family able to live in this house and eating with electricity. No stress.

I want to write about my thoughts on the books I'm reading - and the fact that I'm actually reading. I want to talk to someone about the change that music makes when I actually get to listen to it and pick my playlist. I want to rhapsodize about the Bermuda Triangle (the one in West Carrollton, not the one in the ocean) and my deep fondness for Sonic's Cherry Limeade. I want to tell people about my iPod, and how even though I love my iPhone, I still think my favorite is the iPod and it's never-ending supply of music and audiobooks.

But it all seems stuck after that first sentence.

I need an emotional enema.