May is Preeclampsia awareness month..

So I decided to share my birth story with my youngest son. It's very sensitive to me. I wrote this shortly after he was born. I'll add updates at the end.
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It started on Monday, Dec. 6 at 4:30 a.m., when my water broke. At 7 I called my midwife, D, & told her. She told me to keep an eye on it & she'd be over later. When she arrived, all looked fine. But no contractions. Tuesday baby had turned posterior. I ended up having back labor all day. We went to the chiropractor trying to get baby to turn back to proper position. It didn't help. We tried some other methods, they didn't work either. He was staying posterior, which accounted for all the back labor. After all day Tue. & into the wee hours of the morning on Wed, & still no “real” contractions, we decided to try castor oil.. Vile, nasty horrible stuff.. Which my body rejected. I threw up most of it. By 4:30 my 48 hour time limit was up and real contractions still hadn't started.. A decision had to be made. We decided to head to the hospital for a c-section. Due to my prior c-section, going to the hospital automatically meant another one. By that time, I didn't care. I was done & wanted baby out. NOW. And I didn't care how. So we headed to the best hospital we have nearby, a 10-15 min. drive. That's when things got interesting......

They sent us to the ER to register first. The whole way I had to urinate, but couldn't. Come time for a urine sample for the ER & nothing. A couple of drops, maybe. They send me to labor & delivery & hook me up to monitors & all looks great with the baby. Then they insert a catheter to get a urine sample. They got 2 drops. My kidneys had shut down. Blood tests then showed that my platelets were dropping, my iron was super low & my whole body was shutting down. And my blood pressure was dangerously high. We didn't even have time to finish registering when I was wheeled into the OR. On the way there, Dr. P asked “so, are we tying tubes?” I looked at him like he was crazy & said no... I'm wishing now I had said yes.. I just didn't realize how bad off I was at the time..

In the OR, all got started as usual. Everything went smooth. At 10:31 a.m. On Wed. December 9th, Samuel Michael was born. The anesthesiologist was standing behind my head narrating for me while they pulled baby out. It was so nice to have him there. One of the first things he said was “wow, look at that hair!” and I said “Hair??? My baby has hair?? No way!”. I was shocked b/c Cias was totally bald at birth. They pulled him out, cut the cord & he started crying.. A beautiful sound.. I asked to see him and they brought him around the curtain for just a second.. The sight of his perfect, messy self made me cry.. I couldn't believe he was finally here.. It was wonderful. I listened to him cry while the dr. finished his stuff.. Soon Dr. P says “are you a praying person? Because if you are, you're prayers have been answered”. I said “yes, I'm a praying person”. He then went on to tell me that I had a VERY thin uterus & one real contraction would have caused it to rupture. God has saved our lives by turning baby posterior & thwarting our efforts to start contractions.

When I got back to my room, after only an hour in recovery(vs, 2.5 hours in recovery when I had Cias), baby was already waiting for me in my room. Mike handed him to me & I got to hold him while he was still alert & awake. It was wonderful. We were given the opportunity to opt-out of the eye-goop, so he could see clearly. It was amazing. He was perfect. He looked like Cias, except with hair. Beautiful blue eyes. Fuzzy little head of hair. Perfect round head. 10 fingers. 10 perfect toes. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I asked Mike “so, have we figured out a name yet?” and he said “I was thinking of Samuel.” I said “Samuel sounds good.. It sounds perfect”. And so he was named. Later that afternoon Mikes parents brought Cias by to see us. Cias was thrilled, but still not too sure.
But he liked the name. Now to figure out a middle name. Thursday I decided on Michael. It just sounded good to name him after his daddy.
There was some concern about infection because my water broke so early & there was meconium in it. His white count was high initially, but he wasn't having any other symptoms, so they just kept a close eye on him. It went down to normal by the next day and he was out of the woods.
We were also given the choice of what we wanted done. Did we want the hep. B? Did we want him to have a bath right after birth? Vitamin K? Did we want him in the nursery or in my room immediately after surgery? In my room, of course. It was wonderful to be giving the choice. The hospital was wonderful, as was the staff.. Even the food was delicious there. And the sound proof rooms were GREAT.

Sadly, that wasn't the end though.. I was put on magnesium sulfate to bring down my blood pressure. It's horrible stuff.. Made my mouth dry up, I stopped producing saliva. I was groggy. It was horrid. I felt terrible. But apparently it worked. A little bit anyway. By that night I was producing urine again. By Friday they took the catheter out & I was able to go on my own.. I forgot how nice it was just to be able to pee again. I hadn't done it in so long. But I wasn't quite out of the woods just yet. *edited to add: My hemoglobin was only 6.2 when I was admitted. Friday I had a blood transfusion & after 2 units of blood, my level was 8.4. It's been slowly rising since then, I hope.. I've been on iron supplements since then. My blood pressure was still up. My legs were still VERY swollen. So swollen that when I walked, they didn't even feel like they were connected to my body.. It was scary. By Saturday some of the swelling had gone down. I was able to walk better and I was urinating on my own and doing very well at it. By Saturday afternoon, we were home. What a wonderful place to be.

Too bad that still wasn't the end. Sunday night I couldn't breath. Just could not catch my breath, mostly while lying down. Off to the ER we go. The closest one, which is 5 min. away, not the good one up the hill where I delivered. There we find out my blood pressure is dangerously high(165/110). They run a bunch of tests to check my lungs & many other things. Things like a chest x-ray, ct scan, etc.. Then they decide it could be my heart & they want to do a cardiac echo. And they want to admit me. Since I had barely been home with my boys, and it was Cias' first night home in almost a week, I refused. I wanted to be home. That was the longest I had been away from my newborn & I didn't want to be there any longer than I had to. So we went home. By 5 a.m. Monday morning, we were back. Yep, should have just stayed. This time I felt like I was having a massive asthma attack. They determined that it was fluid on the lungs & they started diuretics to drain it. It worked, eventually. They also gave me meds for my high blood pressure. They hooked me up to an EKG machine to check everything. The EKG showed all was fine.
This time we agree to be admitted. At least 24 hours. It was devastating, but I knew it was necessary. They admitted to the post-postpartum unit, so I at least had a breast pump. I had been breastfeeding Samuel until I went to the ER on Sunday night. I also had the choice of having Samuel room-in with me, but due to the fact that I had a massive headache, was extremely tired & that Mike would have to stay too, we decided he would be better off at home. My mom, Mike's mom & Mike were there to take care of him. He would be in good hands. Plus I knew there was no way Mike would get any sleep there & he was going on almost a week of very, very little sleep, lots of stress & lots of emotion. He also needed to be home so he could rest. I spent all day Monday fighting a headache, desperately wishing for sleep & being hooked up to a blood pressure cuff every hour, sometimes every 15 min. They gave me IV blood pressure meds, which helped some. But they needed to find an oral medication for me to go home with. They also did the cardiac echo that day, which showed that my heart was pumping great. Nothing wrong with it. There was a little bit of fluid around it though. That was something that would have to be watched. Tuesday at 1 a.m., I started an oral medication. It worked! My blood pressure went down. Not to normal, but it wasn't at super dangerous level anymore. About 145/92 or something. Not great, but tolerable. By that afternoon, after having several good readings, I was allowed to go home. Praise the Lord!

On Thursday I went for a follow-up visit with Dr. P. He raised the dose of my high blood pressure medication & put me on bed rest. So far, that's where I am now.

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So, updates:  It's been 5 years and that baby is now a precocious, wonderful, brilliant, clever, loveable 5 year old. I can't imagine life without him.  As for me, I'm doing better. I get dehydrated extremely easily and I can tell when I am because my kidneys start hurting. I'm still on the same high-blood pressure meds, which I'm not thrilled about. I'd love to be off of it. Maybe one day I will be able to. I'm also still anemic, and have been since then. 

   It's taken a lot to process everything that went on during that time. I realized that this didn't start suddenly like we thought. It was something that had started weeks before and was missed. My midwife didn't do routine urine checks. If she had, she may have caught that I was spilling protein. She brushed me off when I told her I wasn't able to urinate.  When I brought my concerns to her, she kind of brushed them off. I am not happy about that at all. Dr. P also said that if we had waited 24 hours longer(if that), we wouldn't have made it. I was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome, an extreme form of toxemia. Click here for more information about it.

I used to be strong.

Physically, I used to be strong.  I used to go to the gym a few times a week. I could do over an hour on the elliptical trainer.  I did weights. I used to be strong. But that never mattered, because I wasn't skinny. It didn't matter that I could carry 2 toddlers with no problem. It didn't matter that I could help him lift that jet-ski into the back of the truck. It only mattered to him that I wasn't skinny. After years of hearing this, I think I finally just gave up. Stopped going to the gym. Stopped caring.  Sadly that means I have gained more weight and I am no longer the  strong woman I used to be. The one who could easily move heavy furniture around the house.

I'm glad I finally came to this realization. Because it shows me not only what a jerk he was(and is), and how stupid his beliefs on body image are, but also so that I can start healing myself. I want to be that strong woman again. I need to be that strong woman again.

Growing and changing

I realized this morning that my blog had been neglected. Yes, I added new posts to it sometimes, but it hadn't actually been updated in a while. So this morning I went through and deleted links that no longer lined up with my current beliefs. I decided not to follow some blogs that I was following. One I was following only because she was a friend of mine, even though she was posting stuff I didn't believe. Another one I am no longer following because we are not longer friends.

I went back and read some old posts I had written.  I was a bitter, angry woman. I lashed out at anyone, and hated people who had things that I wanted. I won't make excuses, because that would be stupid. There is no excuse for my immature, inappropriate behavior. It takes growth and learning in order to get out of that ugly place. Over the years I have grown and changed in many ways. My beliefs, my attitude, my whole way of thinking. After my divorce, I had to find myself. Figure out what I believed, versus what I was told to believe. I had to get those ugly voices out of my head that told me I was stupid and fat and ugly. I am still learning to believe that I am not stupid and ugly, and that being overweight isn't the most horrible thing in the world. 

I also believe losing my dad has forced that growth I needed. It's been 9 months since we lost him, and it has changed my life in ways I would have never imagined. Everything seems so petty and crazy. Little things that bothered me before no longer bother me now, or they bother me less.

I'm not the person I was 10 years ago, or 5 years ago, or even 1 year ago.  I'm growing. I'm changing. And I like that.

Please donate to the Out Of The Darkness Suicide Prevention Walk

On September 27th, 2014, my mom, my eldest son, and I will be participating in the Out of the Darkness suicide prevention walk. We are raising funds to help in awareness and prevention of suicide. Which is where you, my wonderful readers, come in.  Yes, I am asking for donations. Any donation, no matter how big or small, is greatly appreciated.   To donate, please click here.

For more information and a backstory, see this post: The Day My Life Came Crumbling Down

This is the last picture ever taken of my dad and me together. It was taken less than a month before he died.

The day my life came crumbling down around me.

 July 4th, 2010, my dad started having seizures.  He was eventually diagnosed with  epilepsy and put on many medications. The doctor was hesitant to take his license for a long time. Unfortunately that also meant she wasn't willing to help him get disability. Over the years, the lack of work, the medication, the depression, and everything else became too much for him. One day in October, he was driving to do a job, blacked out, and crashed his truck. Thankfully he survived with nothing more than a scratch on the leg.  Or so it seemed. I believe that crash did more than we realized.  In November, I moved myself and my 2 boys to the town he lives in so we could be near him.  It was also in November that he told me that he was having trouble remembering things. Simple things. Things he had known for years. He needed a map to get around the small town he had lived and worked in for years. He was a self-employed plumber, so he knew the streets of this town backward and forward.  Suddenly he needed a map to get around. He was also diagnosed with early-onset dementia, because of the head injuries and epilepsy. He wasn't able to drive anymore. He had to have people drive him to jobs. That was a massive blow to a man who was always self-sufficient and able to provide for his family. Suddenly he couldn't. And on top of that,  the government said he couldn't get any help from them.   He didn't want to be a burden to anyone, and the depression took hold.

 On Monday, Dec. 16th, he and my mom went to the doctor for a routine MRI. He needed to be sedated for the MRI, but the technicians were not informed of this. So they had to reschedule.
When they got home that afternoon, my dad decided to go for a walk. My mom had no idea that he had taken the gun from the nightstand.  He was gone for hours, which wasn't unusual for him. He often took long walks by the river to think. The river was one of his favorite places.
I knew that my dad had the MRI that day, so that night I texted my mom to find out how things went. She said she would talk to me about it tomorrow.  So I figured that my dad had 'chickened out' and decided not to do it.  If only it were that simple.


December 17, 2013 started out as any normal day. My son woke me up about 7. We got up, made coffee, and started our day. It was a cheerful day. It was my nephew's 15th birthday and I sang Happy Birthday to him(though he couldn't hear since he lives 3000 miles away). Little did we know that it would soon end.

I waited that morning for my mom to call me and tell me how the MRI went.  I never got the call. Instead I got a knock on the door. She opened the door and said "hi, I have people with me." Those people were Pastor H and his wife.  They walked in and smiled and said hi and asked mom how the MRI went. She woke up my 12 year old and told us to sit on the couch. I could tell she had been crying and that something was seriously wrong. My first thought went to my 83 year old grandpa who also lived with them.  I'll never forget my mom saying "honey, your dad shot himself." I screamed "NO" and asked her if she was joking. Of course she wasn't. She would never joke about something like that. I immediateley buried my head in her lap and cried. I didn't get to say good-bye. I didn't get to give him one last hug and tell him that I loved him. I didn't get to thank him for being such a wonderful daddy to me, and an amazing grandpa to my kids. My just-turned 4 year old buried his head in the couch and kept saying "this is a horrible day. This is a very, very bad day!". My then-11.5 year old cried and snuggled up next to my mom.  I remember the 4 us snuggling on the couch together, crying and saying "it's not fair! It's not fair!!!!". 6 months later and we're still saying that. It's not fair. And it sucks.

After a while, Pastor H and his wife left.  My 11 yr old sat on the couch, not sure what to do. I went and set up my 4 year old  with a project. I informed people on Facebook. My mom made phone calls. Those are some horrible phone calls to make. How do you call people and tell them someone they love has just shot themselves?  The Sheriff in town, whom we know, called the local Suicide Prevention group and they came up to talk to us. They gave us some information and made sure we were okay. They made sure to tell us that there was nothing we could have done. Quite honestly, it did little to reassure us that day. We were all so numb. We finally had to go up to my parents house because family members were arriving to be with us.  Walking into that house and seeing my dads empty recliner was horrible. I remember curling up in and smelling it because it smelled like him. I wanted to yell at everyone not to sit in it.

That day was a very, very long day. The weather was beautiful, which at one point prompted one of my aunts to say "it's a nice day." To which my 4 year old again replied "NO, it's not! It's a bad day! A very, very, very bad day!!". Out of the mouth of babes, right? It was, indeed, a very, very, very bad day.  We spent the day talking to people, but I have no idea who. Family members came over and gave us hugs and condolences. I'm not completely sure who. It's kind of a blur.   The rest of the week was spent trying not to lose our minds, planning my dads memorial service, and visiting with family. My sister, brother-in-law and their 3 kids flew into town a few days later. We cried together and made a wonderful memorial video for our dad.  He was 3 months shy of 63 years old when he died.

The last 6 months have been a blur of grief and moving and craziness. I can't believe it's been 6 months. I can't believe my daddy is gone. He was my daddy. My fishing partner. The man who taught me about plumbing and how to cast a fishing pole. He was the man who smiled so proudly each time he held his grandchildren for the first time. Or any time, really.  He was the man who everyone in town loved and admired. He was the man that you could look up to to be a good role model.

I know my daddy would never, ever, ever purposely hurt us if he had been in his right mind. Never, in a million years, would he do anything to hurt us. That is how I know that the illness he had completely taken over and he just didn't want to hurt anymore. He was in pain all the time, physically and mentally. He wanted to be done with it. He wanted to go home. He wanted healing. And dying was the only way to get it.  I know that my dad is in heaven, and he is partying with Jesus, and his mom, and his dad, and his step-dad, and his grand babies that didn't make it to earth, and with his brother, and with my grandpa, who joined him in heaven just 6 short weeks later.

But that doesn't make us miss him any less. I miss him constantly. I want to give him a hug. I want to feel his arms around me as he kisses my head and says "love you, Punkin'." I want to see him playing with his grandsons. I just want HIM.


I don't know how to end this, so I'm just going to leave you with this video that we made for his memorial service:

It takes a village to raise a child.

We hear this all the time.  "It take a village to raise a child". For the most part, I will say, yes, it does. It takes loving people to support the parents and help out when they can.  Some people have apparently taken this to mean that it is okay for a stranger to discipline a child that they don't know. That is false. It is never, I repeat never, okay to discipline a strangers child. If a child is being noisy, talk to the parents. If a child is doing something you find unacceptable, talk to the parents. It is their right, not yours, to tell the child to be quiet, or to stop doing the thing that is unacceptable.   There are few exceptions: If a child is running into the street, it is acceptable to gently stop the child and keep him safe.

So, does this mean a person shouldn't help out a mom or dad in the grocery store?  It does not mean that at all. That is where the village comes in.  To support the parents.  Instead of telling the child to be quiet, play with the child. Entertain the child so the parent can do what he/she needs done.

Example: You are in line at the grocery store, and your 2 year old is being, well, 2.  Wanting everything, screaming, the whole works.  Instead of scowling at the parent for "not controlling her child", a better choice would be to help.  Talk to the child. Try to make him laugh. Entertain him. Make funny faces. Offer to help the mom or dad with the groceries so she can tend to the screaming child.  Be creative.  Just don't judge.  Don't scowl. Don't be mean.  The parent is doing the best he/she can, and  smiles and support go a long way in making life better.

I'm still the mom...

This just came to my mind. I was going to make it a facebook  rant, but decided that blogging would be more productive.

I am the mom!  Me! I am the one that makes the decisions.  You can give me all the advice you want. You can be horrified and appalled that my child is still using a bottle, or that he's not potty trained, or that my children have a TV and a blu-ray player(with WiFi) in their room.   But guess what, at the end of the day, I'm the mom. I know my kids are fine. I do not feel guilty  about my decisions.

So, go ahead. Be appalled. Give your unasked for advice.  I'll continue on parenting the way I am, knowing that my kids are doing just fine.

Because Captain Jean Luc Picard wasn't awesome enough..

Right? The man is awesome. Star Trek wouldn't be the same without Captain Jean Luc Picard, played by the amazing, the awesome, the wonderful Patrick Stewart.   Well, the world is a becoming a better place because of him too.  Patrick Stewart is an advocate for Violence Against Women.  He is extremely vocal about stopping, and preventing violence against women. Not just physical violence, but the kind not many people are aware of. The emotional/verbal/sexual abuse that is often hidden in homes so well.

What is abuse?  Below I linked to a blog that was written regarding how the church covers up abuse(often blaming the victim) and how to deal with it. There is also some beautiful videos of Patrick Steward talking about violence against women.

What is abuse?

Here is how the website defines abuse on its home page.

Abuse is fundamentally a mentality. It is a mindset of entitlement. The abuser sees himself as entitled. He is the center of the world, and he demands that his victim make him the center of her world. His goal is power and control over others. For him, power and control are his natural right, and he feels quite justified in using whatever means are necessary to obtain that power and control. The abuser is not hampered in these efforts by the pangs of a healthy conscience and indeed often lacks a conscience.

While this mentality of power and control often expresses itself in various forms of physical abuse, it just as frequently employs tactics of verbal, emotional, financial, social, sexual and spiritual abuse. Thus, an abuser may never actually lay a hand on his wife and yet be very actively terrorizing her in incredibly damaging ways.

Abuse in any of its forms destroys the victim's person. Abuse, in the end, is murder.

I encourage everyone to read the blog I linked to and especially watch those videos of Patrick Stewart..  

Happy 4th of July!!!!

I hope everyone had a wonderful 4th of July. I know I sure did, despite the intense heat and exhausted 3.5 year old.   It was 109 degrees at 7:30 last night. Thankfully by the time the fireworks started at 9:45, it had cooled off quite a bit.

The whole day was great.  My mom left her house about 9:30 and arrived at ours at about 4.  While she was traveling, the kids and I went to a friends house for a BBQ and some fun.  We spent a couple of hours enjoying water balloon fights, squirt gun fights, good food and wonderful company.  Then my mom arrived in town and we headed home.   Where we hung out, played in the sprinklers,  and BBQ'd the BEST steak and corn-on-the-cob.   Best ever, if I do say so myself.

At 8:00 we headed over to a local park to watch the fireworks from a distance.  We realized that we arrived super early, so we went to Dutch Bros. for smoothies and coffee. When we got back to the park, we found a perfect spot to sit. We tossed down our blankets and chilled out while waiting to watching the fireworks.    That was most definitely the best part of the evening.  My mom, my children and me sitting on a blanket in a park playing and laughing and having more fun than we have had in a long time.   We sat there and watched Samuel run around in circles around the blanket singing a song about how his shirt glowed in the dark.  We took tons of pictures, some of which are below.  By the time the fireworks actually started, it was way past Samuel's bedtime and he was more than ready to go home and sleep.  But I held him and convinced him we would go home soon. He wasn't interested in watching the fireworks, so he lay in my arms as I watched them and rocked him.   Cias turned some music on my phone and was listening to it as he sat with Mima and watched the fireworks.

When the fireworks were over, we headed back to the truck.  As we walked up, Mima told Samuel to turn on the truck lights.  I told him to use his Jedi powers to turn the lights on.  So he put his hands up, wiggled his fingers, and the truck headlights magically came on!  He is now convinced he has Jedi powers and can always turn on the truck lights.  I really wish I had power locks in my car so I could that with him too.  He was so excited.

I wish I could think of the words to express how wonderful last night was. I hope the pictures can express them instead.

How am I doing?

It's been a year since the split, and people are asking me how I am doing.  My answer? GREAT!   And yes, that is the truth.     I have my moments where I want to throw in towel and call quits. Hey, who doesn't?  That's pretty normal.   But I'm healing, and I'm learning that I'm not crazy. It's amazing!  I'm not the crazy one!! I never was!!!  It's mind-blowing.   I just finished reading Why Does He Do That? by Lundy Bancroft and it confirmed that I'm not crazy. I'm not stupid, I'm not crazy, I'm not lazy, I'm not a horrible person. I've just spent years either being told I was, or being made to feel like I was.


So now when I'm asked how I am doing, I can say GREAT.   Yeah, we're broke, we struggle with things that I hate struggling with, but really, life is great.    I can say that Life's been good to me so far(Thanks Joe Walsh).  :)   I haven't started dating, but I do have some prospects. I'm making some cuts to improve the financial situation and make things better.  Things are certainly looking up for all of us.

Just another day....

I saw this and felt the need to share it..

School's Out For summer!!

Sing with me!  School's Out For Summer!!!


Okay, okay, not until tomorrow.  Tomorrow is the last day of school. Super happy dance!!  Tomorrow is my son's last day of school. And his last day at this particular school, since I will be homeschooling him next year.  Yes, we are both very excited about that. He still wants to attend jr. high with his friends though, so he'll head back to public school in 7th grade. Unless things change between then and now.  The youngest is attending preschool, but only for a little while longer. Sadly I have to pull him out because I can't afford the cost of it.  We are all pretty bummed about that. Well, he may not be. I think he's tired of going.    My sweet children are ready to relax and sleep in. So am I. This getting up at 6:30 a.m. thing is getting really, really old.

So, we are ready for fun.. I hope I can dig up enough money to take the kids on vacation this year. We want to take our annual trip to my parents house, so hopefully we'll be able to do that this summer.  And if we're really lucky, maybe we can spend a day or two at the beach too.  But that's another 2-3 hour drive away from my parents house, so we may not make it.  That's okay. We'll have fun hanging out in the mountains and fishing and swimming anyway.

Have a great day everyone!!!!!!!

Boy, do I know how to pick them or what?

Men.  Apparently I suck at choosing them.

When I was 16, I met SH.  He was nice, sweet, great kisser.   For a while he was really nice.  They all start out that way, right?   But he spent our whole 3.5 year relationship treating me like a 2nd class citizen.  Everything he did was better. Everything he had was better.  He told me i was beautiful. Until I started putting on weight.  I remember one time he was sitting in a chair and I was standing in front of him. He told me i was beautiful, then pinched a roll on my stomach and said "well, that isn't."  Gee, thanks.

At 20, I met TO. He was nice. Treated me well. We had fun together.   But we pretty much used each other for companionship and sex.   Sad to know the only man that treated me well didn't actually love me.

At 21 I met M. At the time I thought he was the best thing to happen in my life.  13 years later and I we are divorced as I learn that he has been emotionally and verbally abusive the whole time.  I had gained a lot of weight by the time we met, and he spent 13 years berating me, criticizing me, and making me feel less than human because of it.

So, now, at 35, I am 90 pounds overweight, a single mom to 2 boys, and a college student.  My self-esteem has been ground so low that I see no hope of ever recovering.  I don't see any man ever wanting me until I lose a ton of weight.  And God only knows when that is going to happen.

In the past 20 years, it has been proven to me that a  man only wants skinny girls.  It's been proven that I am nothing until I am skinny.  I think it will take many years of therapy to get past this.  Too bad i don't have the money for therapy.  The biggest question I have is will anyone love me even if I am skinny? Does it matter?   Should I just not care? Give up and live life alone forever?

Happy Valentine's Day..

Or, not..  I hate this day. Always have. Mostly I hate the expectations that come with it.  I hate that all the beautiful stuff I have done for the man I love was never reciprocated.  I believe I once got a box of chocolate tossed to me across the room as he walked in the door after work.  Or maybe that was Mother's Day..  I don't remember. Heck, could have even been a birthday.  Once or twice he bought me truffles, knowing that they were my favorite.  He then proceeded to eat them so I would get fat, and complain if I ate too many.    But mostly, it was a day of expectations and hopes dashed.  I would get my hopes up because he said he may or may not have something planned.  He never did.  I would plan things. He'd complain about them.   I think you can tell how Valentine's Day is going to go by a man treats you the rest of the year.   He was selfish and unromantic. Why on earth did think that would change just because it was Valentine's Day?  Or our anniversary for that matter?    Oh sure, we went on dates. Once or twice a year. Always with a stipulation though.. "Lose 5 pounds and I'll take you out".  Ahh, gotta love conditional love. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, doesn't it?

So, why do I hide all the Valentine's stuff on facebook? Not because I'm jealous(okay, maybe teensy bit). Not because I think it's cheesy or I'm bitter or anything. It's because it's a reminder of what I have never had.  A reminder of the love that wasn't shown to me, on pretty much any day of the year. It's a reminder of how hurt I felt when I was rejected so much.  So, what is Valentine's Day to me?  A crappy day of watching other men show the women they love  how much they love them in a cute romantic way.

My testimony, my marriage, and my life today.

I was raised in the church. Accepted Jesus at age 7. Baptized about age 9. Went to church faithfully.  As a teenager I went through the typical 'questioning my faith' phase.  I remember an atheist friend saying "aren't you supposed to be trying to convert me or something?"  I replied "Yeah, but I don't feel strong enough in my faith right now to try it."  Wow, that was humbling and horrifying.   I wish I could say it changed me, but it didn't.

So I went on like that for years.  Coming and going. Straying and coming back.  At 21 I got married.  8 years later, I was questioning my faith even more. Wondering what the point of it all was. Wondering if God was just something we made up to make us feel better.  I was having a hard time seeing him work in my life. Instead, all I saw was how crappy my husband made me feel.  The put-downs. The "teasing" that was actually bullying. I would later learn that all of this was emotional and verbal abuse.   I remember thinking that God wasn't helping me in my marriage, or my life, so what was the point?   Last year my marriage started going south. Worse than ever.  We had had our fair share of hard times. In 12 years of marriage, we had almost separated 3-4 times.  Last year it all came to a head.  I decided to work on my relationship with my husband. I figured it was worth trying, for the sake of our 2 boys. But in trying to work on my relationship with my husband, I discovered that I was working on so many relationships, that something had to give.  I was trying to build a great relationship with my young boys.  They needed me a lot. After all, they are only kids.  I was trying to repair a relationship with my sister, my husbands parents, my friends, on and on it went.  So many.  God took a backseat to this.  My relationship with him faltered, and I just couldn't fathom trying to work on yet another relationship. It was exhausting. Overwhelming. And crushing. 

Well, last May, it all broke down.  My husband and I decided to either split up or try counseling.  The night before our counseling session, I went to church.  I sat there listening to the sermon, my heart heavy.   I poured my heart out in every song I sang.  I begged God for help.    And he answered. More clear than he has ever answered me before.   I saw him, with his arms out open, and he said "It's okay. I'm here for you, when you are ready."  I was blown away and immediately burst into tears.  He sounded so much like the wonderful, loving father everyone had told me was.  And he sounded like me telling my kids "when you are ready to talk, I'm here for you."    I held that with me as we went to counseling the next day.  The counseling session wasn't as productive as I had hoped.  The day after counseling, my husband came to me and said he agreed it would be best if we separated.  I agreed with him. My heart was less heavy as I realized that I would be free of his put-downs, his criticisms, his crap in general.  It was as though a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. 

Soon I began the process of finding my own apartment and figuring out how to live on my own, how to be a single mom, and that goes with it.  During this process, I saw God work in ways that I never thought possible.  He led me to the apartment that I loved.  I consulted a lawyer, just to get an idea of what I needed to do.  I had to take my then 2 year old with me. My 2 year old who didn't nap anymore.  I was shocked to see that he had fallen asleep on the way to the appointment, and even more shocked when he stayed asleep as I moved him from car seat to stroller and then into the appointment. He slept through the entire consultation.  Yeah, that was God.  Over the coming months, I saw God work in so many ways. He eased my transition into single motherhood, the divorce, going back to school, and gave me a total and complete peace about all of it.   And he hasn't left me since.. And I know he never will.  He has provided for my children and me these past 6 months in ways that I can't even describe. Financially, spiritually, emotionally.    And I know he will forever. Because he is just that awesome!

Bullying.. A rock-Awesome story by my 10 year old.

*have I mentioned my kid is AWESOME? :)


My 10 year old is in a public school where bullying is not tolerated at all.  There is a huge no-bullying campaign that goes on all year.  I think it may even be part of the curriculum.  I don't really know. Anyway, here is a story that my son wrote about bullying.


     If I saw someone being bullied I would tell the bully to stop picking on the person. if they still didn't stop then I would go tell an adult. If the person was sad I would tell him to cheer up because the bully was gone. I have never been bullied. I have seen other people get bullied. My little brother has never been bullied either. Sometimes I see my friends get bullied. When my friends get bullied I stand up to the bully. Then when i get bullied they will stand up to the bully. I am glad my little brother has not been bullied. If someone was bulling my brother I would stand up to the person that was bullying my brother. I see bullying  at a lot of places. To me the worst type of bullying is physical bullying. Bullying with words is till bad. I think everyone should stand up to bullying. I think it is good stand up agains bullies. in my opinion bullies are weak people. Most bullies just want to have friends. it is good to have friends, but people do not have to fight for friends. Many bullies are really weak people. I think that bullies should stop picking on people. I think that bullying should be stopped.

A story my 10 year old wrote..

My son's assignment for school was to write a story in which he was a superhero.  Being the extreme Mortal Kombat fan that he is, he drew from that.  This is his story.
I fixed most spelling errors when I typed it, but grammar is his.

 My name is Stryker. I can spit grenades as powerful as a nuke. Explosives do not hurt me. My hand is a gun because I am a cyborg. My best ability is to shoot blue fire and fly. I can also shoot missiles from my stomach. I have a robot form and a human form. I can also trap people in radioactive nets. Stryker can also teleport. In my cyborg form, I can self-destruct. I can shoot lasers from my eyes. My other power is to turn invisible. I have a blade connected to my hand. I can freeze people by looking at their souls. I can also shoot ninja stars from my stomach. My cyborg form looks like a bee colored robot. My human form looks like a swat team member. Stryker is avery powerful. He defeated 100,000 people. He is the champion of fighting. He collects diamonds, rubies, marbles and pearls. If he collects all of the jewels he gets his super form. His best form is my super form. As you can see, Stryker is a very powerful person.

Ahh, gotta love the creative, morbid mind of the 10 year old..

Choices in disciplining my toddler...

Yeah, I'm just going to focus on my toddler today.  But first  let me add a little background. I used to be pro-spanking.  Until my oldest was 3.5, and I decided I needed to find something better. I never felt that spanking was appropriate. I never felt like I was doing the right thing, and I didn't think that it was biblical. I mean, how could a loving Jesus possibly tell me it was okay to hit my child?  Never made sense to me. The problem was, I didn't know any other way of disciplining.   I had always been taught that children who we not spanked grew up spoiled, horrible brats.  Turns out, it was the permissive parenting that caused that.  Not lack of spanking, but lack of discipline completely.    So, when Cias was 3.5, I found a wonderful message board that introduced me to the wonders of gentle/positive discipline. Meaning, I could discipline my child with out spanking. With out fear.  With out shame. Without humiliation.  I was skeptical at first. I said 'right, you all have easy, compliant kids who listen all the time. This wouldn't work for MY kid.'   How wrong I was.  God softened my heart and made me see that it would, in fact, work for my "strong-willed" son.   So I began to put it into practice.

Fortunately, I had time to learn more by the time my 2nd child came along.  He is more "strong-willed", spirited, and stubborn than my oldest ever was.  And he is fiercely independent.   He's just like me.  I call him my clone.    My poor parents......  :)

Background over:   I realized recently that I have a choice in disciplining my 2.5 year old.   I can force my will on him and spank him for not doing things exactly how and when I say, or I can teach him and guide him to do what is right.

An example:  Sammy, acting as a typical 2.5 year old, dumps cereal on the floor.   Age expected, but not okay.     So the conversation goes as follows-
Mommy: Sammy, you may not throw cereal on the floor.  Please pick it up.
Sammy: *does nothing*
Mommy: Sammy, can you do it yourself, or do you need mommy to help?
Sammy: I do it myself!!!!  *and proceeds to pick up the cereal*
 OR!
Sammy: Mama help me! *and we pick up the cereal together*

He learns that throwing cereal on the floor is not okay, and that he has to clean it up.  He also learns that mommy is willing to help him and mommy is there for him.

The phrase "can you do it yourself, or do you need mama's help?" has been wonderful.   We use it when we are leaving places.   When we need to clean up. When we need to buckle into the car seat.

So, choices in discipling my toddler? I'll choose gentle discipline, and give him the opportunity to make choices.

The Pearl's Excuses(A satire)

After reading an article by Debi Pearl, Titled "Mama's Excuses", my friend Linsey Grant, decided to write this as a response.   A Pearl Follower’s Excuses “We are so happy to be at this play date with you. I hope it’s understood that while at my home you relinquish all discipline to me. What do you mean you’re not comfortable with that? Don’t you know the Pearl’s book has been using proof texting and twisted logic to sell thousands of copies for years now? No, they don’t take responsibility for all those deaths of the children who’s parents were using their specific recommendations. That’s absurd that you would think they should… those parents obviously didn’t read the book close enough.” “Oh I know Johnny didn’t actually do anything wrong but this is a training exercise. You have to give children ample opportunity to fail so you can train them and let them know how inferior and stupid they are. What do you mean Paul tells us not to provoke our children in Ephesians? Well that doesn’t apply here. Why? Because it just doesn’t.” “Come let me wipe your nose, Johnny. Oh yes, it’s normal for children to flinch when you raise your hand. No, it doesn’t mean he fears me. It means he respects my authority. The psychology of fear? No, I don’t believe in that. 75 years of research has nothing on the Pearls’ divine inspiration. “Why yes, 4 mo old Hannah has been crying for half an hour. She doesn’t want to take her nap and she’s trying to manipulate me into going in there and picking her up. She will learn soon enough. What do you mean she sounds terrified in there? Young babies aren’t capable of feeling fear. Now, where did I put that switch?” “Of course we use a switch on our children. If I use my hand to spank them they will grow up to fear me. Well I know he flinches away from me anyway, but he’s flinching from the switch, not from me. He only knows love from my hands. What do you mean that doesn’t make any sense? It makes perfect sense. Children are too stupid to know that it is a person using the switch.” “How can you not believe in using a switch? The Bible clearly says ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child.’ What do you mean that is from a medieval poem and isn’t in the Bible? Of course it is. The Bible says whatever I want it to to make whatever point I’m trying to make right now. No, I’m not open to any logical interpretation of Scripture regarding the Proverbs. Solomon clearly commanded we beat our children and babies with sticks. Well of course the Proverbs are commandments. No, I am not taking one obscure verse out of context and ignoring the entire message of Scripture. My husband told me this is true and I believe whatever he tells me. “Okay, you clearly aren’t understanding the the Proverbs are commandments. Well of course I have never slit my throat after eating too much. Only certain Proverbs are actual literal commandments, most of the others are figurative proverbial sayings. I KNOW WHICH ONES BECAUSE MY HUSBAND TOLD ME, aren’t you listening?!” “Oh, don’t worry about Johnny’s hand. He’s not supposed to get the bandaging wet, but it will probably be okay. Of course I’ll tell you what happened. He was showing a little too much curiosity about the stove, so my husband gently touched his hand to the burner to teach him about ‘hot.’ Now, don’t get upset, I said ‘he gently touched.’ Okay, now you sound like the emergency room nurse. Don’t you think I know child abuse when I see it? It’s only abuse if you hate your children. When you burn them in love, that’s called training. At least he knows the difference between hot and cold now. No, we couldn’t have used something other than the absolute extreme to teach him. Children are stupid, remember?” Goodness, Hannah is still crying. Has it been an hour already? Babies will just do anything to get what they want, won’t they?! Can you believe how early the selfish sin nature shows its ugly head? No, she doesn’t need anything. Babies only have physical needs and those have been met. No, she doesn’t have emotional needs, only adults have those, and the husband’s are the most important. I really can’t stress this enough. When daddy’s needs are met, then we can all be happy. We are happy, see?? Well, Hannah will get there. She’ll be more happy after I scourge the sin from her with this switch. Excuse me, please.” Oh, I know I said children don’t have emotions, but what I meant was that cheerful and happy are the only acceptable emotions. There is no excuse for feeling sad or angry. Well, of course sometimes I feel this way, but that’s different. I don’t know why, it just is. My husband told me it was okay for me to feel bad sometimes, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of his needs. Don’t you know the Bible says that children are to be cheerful and obedient at all times? Showing anger is a gateway to becoming child molesters and rapists. That’s the way I was raised and I turned out just fine. Well, yes I know I have trouble relating to people and I have an intense fear of being vulnerable, but that has nothing to do with this. Yes, I suppose it’s true that Johnny still acts up in spite of our training efforts. He is still a child, after all. The wonderful thing is, I am able to discern childish behavior from foolish behavior. That’s what’s important, really. The Bible says it is the parent’s job to judge the child’s heart and punish accordingly, so that’s what we do. No, I don’t have a reference for that, I’ll have to ask my husband. Well of course I realize how ridiculous I sound… I wouldn’t expect you to get it. We spank now so our children don’t end up in jail. Well, yes I know 99.99% of people in jail were spanked as children, but isn’t it obvious they weren’t spanked correctly? It is a fine line of spanking to produce child molesters and murderers, and to produce happy, productive members of society. Why do you look so incredulous? There you go, using facts and logic again… well that’s just not going to fly around here, Missy. Anyway, I need you to go now. It is almost 3:00 and my husband will be home in 2 hours. I have to have the house perfect and supper made for when he gets home, lest he decide to find a proper wife elsewhere. I am so lucky to have a man that has put up with me for this long… he really is a saint. No, he’s not spending time with Rita from work anymore, that’s over. It’s completely understandable, though. After little Hannah was born I had a medical condition that prevented sexual relations for several months… a man has needs, after all! I’m just glad I prayed for his speedy return and God answered my prayers. The Lord is so faithful to those who pray patiently for their husbands. Well, goodbye now! __________________

Why must people be in such a hurry for their kids to grow up?

I often hear "just think, only 16 more years, then he'll finally be gone."  "Only 10 more years.  I can't wait."
Yes, those are their children(or grandchildren!!) that they are talking about.  Does it make you sad to hear that? It sure does me!        Are children really so horrible and inconvenient  to people that they are counting down the days until they finally move out of the house?   So they're noisy, they're crazy, they cause more messes than you can clean. They're also wonderful, snugly, exciting. It's a joy to watch them grow and learn and become strong, independent adults who go off to make their way in the world.   But why the rush? Why the rush to force them out into the world.  The more we rush them, the harder it will be for them to be strong and independent in the world.

I guess what I am trying to say is slow down! Take it easy.  Enjoy them, no matter what.  Whether they are 2 and destroying your house constantly, or they are a tween who is creating his/her own drama all day, they are still your babies.  Treasure them. Enjoy them.  No matter what they are doing.  Or saying.

So give them hugs, extra snuggles, and enjoy them for who they are right now.