Okay, I don’t do “selfies”, but occasionally I make an exception. Today is one of those days. After months of frustration with an aging and mostly useless phone, yesterday I became the happy owner of a new-to-me Samsung Something Or Other. It is taking some time to get set up and working for me, but I am pleased with the upgrade. And now for your viewing pleasure (be kind, it’s my first attempt, but note I’m holding the phone! At the same time!):
Last night the local Parks and Recreation held a daddy/daughter dance. Mike and Natalie were signed up to go. They were both pretty excited about it, and I was excited for them.
And then, our daughter decided to “accidentally” steal two cell phones from the adults at school (one teacher, one parent).
Part of her punishment was that she would not be attending the dance with her dad. And that broke our hearts. It would have been lovely, getting them all dressed up for a real date. Daddy and his precious little girl. She was devastated to learn they would not be going, and we were too. We want to do nice things for our children, and to make memorable experiences. But not at the expense of teaching them they can get away with lying, stealing, or cheating.
I believe this is a lesson – an experience – Natalie will remember for years to come. Of course as a parent you would rather your children only have warm, fuzzy memories of childhood, but that doesn’t necessarily prepare them for life on their own out in the real world, does it? They will have it all: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I know there are a million worse things, but right now this feels like the ugly. This morning I saw other dads had posted pictures with their daughters, all dolled up and ready for the dance. My heart broke all over again.
We want to bless our children. We want to give them good things. But when they go and make mistakes like lying or stealing, they ruin it for themselves, don’t they?
This is not a new concept. This theme, this story, has been occurring over and over and over again, since the very beginning of time. Ever hear of Adam and Eve? Wow. God had so much to give them. They were living in paradise. No worries, not a care in the world. God looked forward to blessing them. He wanted so badly to give them good things.
And then they listened to that damn snake.
I think I now have an inkling of what God was feeling at that moment. His heart was broken, just as mine is over my daughter stealing. Dang it girl, why did you have to go and do that? You would have had such a wonderful time at that dance. I’m just heartbroken. And angry. But angry FOR her, not AT her. It’s an anger that comes from a place of deep, deep love. Wanting to give her good things. Just like our Father God. He wants to give us good things, good experiences, and it breaks His heart when we screw it up.
But! We get second chances, and thirds, and fourths, and so on. God’s grace is endless. I am so grateful for that. Do-overs are the best! In fact, we decided to give Natalie a do-over. We are giving her the chance to earn a night out at the movies with her second favorite person: Momma.
I had one busy weekend, and while I would love to tell you all about it now, I must be responsible and get to bed before midnight. Oh, I can almost literally hear my bed calling my name.
Nah, it’s probably just the tinnitus…
Where do I begin? I have been writing this blog post in my head for the last three days, but now I don’t know where to start. Let’s just say I’m channeling my inner Gilda Radner lately – “It’s always something!”
Seriously. It’s Tuesday night, and already it’s one of the worst weeks I’ve had in a long time. Comical, in hindsight. At least, I hope so, because what follows here for you lovely readers is a recap of all the crap that has gone down in Mindy’s world for the last three days. So yes, this whole post will basically be one Long Whine, but hopefully a comical one. I know I’m almost laughing. Almost.
WARNING: If you are squeamish about women and their girly issues, just stop reading. This post is not for you.
It starts with Sunday night. Super Bowl Sunday. We stayed in and watched the game at home, while the kids went across the street to join the neighbors for their Super Bowl party. I had been having some trouble throughout the day, increasing pain with urination. I am no stranger to this pain, as I had lots of urinary tract infections (UTIs) as a child, and even some in adulthood. I have a high pain tolerance, but this is a special kind of pain that cannot be tolerated. First of all, it’s in the most sensitive area possible. And now that I’m reliving it, I remember that it actually started Sunday morning, around 3 am, and kept me awake and UP (because it’s unbearable to SIT with something akin to razor blades in your hoo-ha) until around 7 am when I was finally able to lie down and sleep.
The pain became more bearable throughout Sunday so I hoped it was getting better. By game time, I realized it was not. So around half-time, Mike dutifully drove to the pharmacy – in a snow storm, no less – to buy some AZO. Oh, and the snow storm meant that Monday would not be a day of rest for me as the kids would be home. I really look forward to my Mondays. They are kind of like a working woman’s Saturday. And this one was especially coveted because we had a full and busy weekend of floor hockey, pinewood derby races, and time with friends. All that, piled on top of MS fatigue and anemia, and the UTI: yes, to say I needed a break was an understatement.
Monday came, and I thought I had it covered. I had a lot I thought I needed to get done, but almost all of it could wait another day. It was going fine. The kids were occupied, and the puppy was cooperating (mostly), I think I even managed to feed myself. And then Aunt Flo decides to show up early. Because I just didn’t have enough going on. I was beside myself. Nearly in tears. How on earth was I going to keep up with the kids and the dog while I’m a mess?
I don’t know how I made it, but I did, and everything was fine. My mom, who lives in Oklahoma, had a pizza delivered to our house so I didn’t have to worry about lunch. Piper slept in her crate and Grandpa took the kids sledding, so I was able to take a nap. I survived Monday, and looked forward to Tuesday, a full day of rest and recovery.
And then they declared another snow day.
Tuesday, today, started off with a bang. Mike trying to get ready for work, kids and puppy running around, THREE puddles of pee to clean up, and me a bloody mess, all before 8 am. It gets better. By 10 am the house was running smoothly until I went downstairs to do laundry. That’s when my daughter called down needing help because there was “too much water and pee in the toilet and now it’s all over the floor!” Needless to say, the bathroom got cleaned today.
So, I don’t know. I guess it felt worse than it sounds, but we had some issues with Luke as well. The boy can’t seem to focus on a task and do what he’s told. Which is frustrating on its own, but feels unbearable when coupled with ungodly pain, overflowing toilets, and all varieties of messes to clean up.
My New Year’s Resolution to not yell? Epic fail these last two days. Tomorrow is a new day, a fresh start, and it’s right around the corner. Thank you Jesus, praise the Lord.
I am in some super slow recovery type mode, so writing (book, blog, Facebook, journal) is not really happening. And that irritates me, but then I get irritated that I am so irritated. Vicious cycle. So today I am just going to bore you with this…
I had a rough walk to the bus stop this morning. I think the dog has gotten too big for me, and with her energy and drive, I can’t hold her back. She throws me off balance constantly. And with my balance issues, that’s a recipe for disaster. So I think we’re done with that program until she gets a little older and can be trained to behave better while walking. That is a thing with dog training, isn’t it?
So after the rough walk I put the pup back in her crate and went back to bed. The sleep probably helped, but I can’t tell. I’m still struggling with fatigue. However, I have managed to do the dishes and make dinner. Chili in the crockpot, and it smells delicious so far. Ground venison, onion, diced tomatoes, black beans, and chili powder. A simple recipe I don’t remember ever trying before, so I hope it turns out ok. We will have cheddar cheese, sour cream, and Fritos to top it off, so that can help with flavor. I thought about adding the can of spicy chili beans that has been in our cupboard forever, but the kids really don’t like spicy, and neither do I. We’ll see how the chili tastes in a couple hours, and I may still decide to add some.
I mailed an application today for the local public transportation service for disabled people. They drive the van right to your door and take you where you need to go. I’m excited about it. As my husband put it, it will give me a level of freedom back. I wouldn’t need to rely on him to take me grocery shopping, or to my umpteen doctor visits. It’s hard to describe how helpless it makes me feel, not being able to drive. I don’t miss the driving so much as I miss being able to go where I want to go. I am an introvert, so one of my favorite things is to go do things alone. Sit at the coffee shop and read or crochet, walk around a bookstore or mall just to browse the merchandise. But if you always need a driver, someone is always waiting for you, and that’s pressure I don’t handle so well. I HATE feeling rushed.
But this Spec-Tran, you plan each ride one-way, so no one is waiting. You tell them when you need a ride back, and they’ll send another driver. At least that’s my understanding. We’ll see how it actually works, but regardless there is no cause for guilt because this is their job, and they aren’t just doing it out of the kindness of their heart. Why is it that we feel guilt when someone does something for us out of the “kindness of their heart”? I mean, by definition they are doing it because they want to, not because they feel obligated. I know it’s not just me. But that still doesn’t make it rational or right.
Oh well. I declare that today is not a day for solving things. It’s a day for reflecting briefly and moving on! Coffee is waiting!
I say that while completely understanding the irony here. I’m not shy.
But seriously, what the hell is up with my hair? I washed it about two hours ago, towel dried it, and have been sitting and reading a book since then. And now there is this:
…which may not be a big deal relatively, but I’m not used to it. Mostly because once it fully dries it tends to calm down, and I generally keep it up in a half-ponytail so it doesn’t interfere with my cochlear implant. However, they tweaked the magnet on the headpiece last Tuesday at the audiologist’s office, and it is staying put much better now. The first magnet was strong enough, but caused pain. The second one didn’t cause pain, but kept falling off. This third time is the winner, apparently. I think only other CI recipients can understand the joy in being able to keep this thing stuck to your head. And oh, being able to style your hair in more ways than just the half-ponytail is pretty thrilling too.
The excitement never ends around here. Ha! Good night, my dear bloggy readers!
I’ve been really tired lately. For the past couple of months, actually. I just kind of assumed it was circumstancial, or due to the m.s., or a combination of both. It would make sense. Fatigue and balance issues are par for the course with m.s., and we have the new puppy, and we’ve had lots of travelling and family events with the holiday. So I had been telling myself that’s what it was, and it would ease up.
Only it wasn’t easing up, and I was starting to get very discouraged. I just couldn’t get back to that place of feeling like you have sufficient energy to move. And no amount of caffeine or sleeping seemed to help.
I went to see a new neurologist yesterday, and shared all of my concerns with her. She said I’m doing all the right things (though I am under orders to stop climbing on chairs) and I’m on the best m.s. treatment with my monthly Tysabri infusions. She ordered a gang of blood tests, since I hadn’t had one in quite some time.
She called this morning with some of my test results (while we were at the pediatrician with my son, who has been complaining of headaches and was up last night with headaches and vomiting. She was still waiting on further test results, but the one she was most concerned with was my vitamin b levels (or hemoglobin, or something). Whatever “they” are, they should be at 12. Mine are at 8, which means I am very anemic. Their words, not mine. The lucky thing is that my primary, who my neurologist was advising me to see regarding the anemia, is located on the second floor of the building my children’s pediatrician is in. So Mike called to see if they could see me right then and they were able to! So I left Mike with Luke and took the elevator to the 2nd floor. The primary doctor ordered more blood testing to get a better sense of what might be causing the anemia, prescribed some iron pills, and is setting me up to see a hematologist.
What FUN. After everything I went through last year with the trip to Mayo Clinic, hospital stays, plasmapheresis, etc., I was really hoping for some time off from doctors and testing. That’s clearly not happening.
I’m not exactly looking forward to more medical drama – not to mention the frustration and guilt I feel for needing my husband to take time off work to drive me everywhere – but I am somewhat relieved to learn that I wasn’t just making this up. I wasn’t just becoming a lazy person. There is a reason for this fatigue, and the headaches and dizzy spells. More importantly, there are solutions. Before today I didn’t know the first thing about anemia, but I know now that it is treatable, and depending on the cause, can sometimes even be reversed. That’s a hell of a lot more than I can say for multiple sclerosis. And compared to all of the mess I’ve been through with m.s. for the last 5 years, and the mess I go through daily with hearing loss, anemia looks like a walk in the park.
Now I just have to find the park!
My daughter, she volunteers to wash dishes, wipe the counters, set the table… I’m enjoying it while it lasts. And look at that fancy dress! Housekeeping never goes out of style 🙂
Also, she’s singing Run DMC. It’s tricky!
Grandpa agreed to come and watch the kids (and the puppy) after church so Mike and I could go on a date. Where do we go for fun? The shooting range! Mike shoots competitively (and does quite well for someone who doesn’t get a lot of time to practice), so when he gives me a fist bump after I’ve shot a few rounds, I feel pretty proud of myself. See for yourself in the picture below, that hole right in the middle, dead center? That was my first shot. I thought at the time I should have stopped right there, but I’m glad I didn’t.
I was shooting my Sig Sauer P238 (with new paisley decorated grips… I really ought to have a picture), my Glock .380, and Mike’s Glock .45. We had a blast, and it is such a great way for both of us to relieve stress. We were wrapping things up when Mike started chatting with an acquaintance from a couple lanes over. I think Mike must have shared how much I was enjoying shooting the .45 (cuz I was, you know?), so the man offered to let me shoot his gun: a Desert Eagle .44 magnum. This gun was a monster. Not too heavy to hold, but it was almost too big for my finger to reach the trigger. I had a hard time managing the recoil, so I was pretty surprised when I saw I hit the bullseye. I told the guy after I shot three rounds – with his super expensive and impressive gun – that I didn’t do so bad for having low vision! Maybe I should have mentioned that first? Oh well, I shot well and he seemed mostly humored that I was having so much fun with it. (He even accepted my friend request on Facebook!)
We didn’t get a picture of the target I shot with the magnum, but the one below is from the rounds I shot with the Sig P238. I think. Maybe it was the Glock. Anyway, not too shabby for someone who only gets to the range a handful of times throughout the year. I can’t drive a car, but I can shoot a gun! 🙂
>>>Insert delicious dessert photo here
I am in the process of making a dessert for the family gathering tomorrow. This is my third time making it. The first time I made it, it turned out fabulous, and I brought it to my mother-in-law’s for Christmas. It was a huge hit. The second time I made it for another family gathering, which was cancelled due to weather. It was a good thing though, because I totally screwed up the marshmallow element. So the family gathering was rescheduled for tomorrow, and that brings me to my third attempt.
While I like recipes, they bore me at times, and I like to take a risk now and then. Attempt #1 involved a makeshift double boiler to melt down giant marshmallows we had left from summer camping trips. Attempt #2 involved skipping the makeshift double boiler method, which proved disastrous. If you’ve ever hated getting taffy stuck in your teeth, multiply that experience by 38. It was bad.
Attempt #3 is still in progress. I plan to come back and add a picture, but we’ll see. The twist on this attempt can’t be seen in the picture anyway. I won’t really know how it turns out until it’s done, but I can tell you the batter was amazing. What is the twist? Haitian Vanilla. Straight imported from a friend of mine who visits there often to do mission work. I absolutely hate using store-bought vanilla, as all I can smell is the alcohol (and not the good kind). I have always loved using Mexican vanilla. It’s a much smoother, purer alternative.
But this stuff from Haiti? A totally different animal. Simply sinful. I get high just sniffing it from the bottle. It’s amazing. And adding it to the brownie batter (did I forget to mention this dessert involves brownies?) seemed to work very well. I tasted it and it was heavenly. A perfect blend of bold sweetness, but rounded out with a darkness that is just, well, sinister. That’s the best way I can describe it. I’m not so good at the putting the words together thing. 😉
I realize I never mentioned what the dessert was. The recipe I found on Allrecipes.com calls it Krispy Brownie Delights, but that name seriously doesn’t do this creation justice. It’s just too awesome for words. So that’s what we call it! Too Awesome For Words.
*On a side note, my daughter actually doesn’t like it (what?!%?@!) so my husband has been calling it Too Awesome for Natalie. I reject that title because that doesn’t even sound like something you would want to eat.
So, batch #3 is chillin’ in the fridge. We will find out tomorrow how it turned out, and maybe we can get some suggestions, take up a vote, and find this delectable dish a proper name!
Little M.S. Runner 