Family is such a treasure!

This lovely couple, my grandparents, have been married for over 46 years!

  I am one of those blessed people who has been able to witness my kids love on my grandparents and hear the same stories they told me as a kid through fresh ears as they share them with my kids.

2011 Tea Party with Danae

2002 Roughhousing with Allison

I've been able to "turn the other way" as my Grandpa eats the vegetables off their plates so they can have dessert and hear the rhythmic sounds of the rocking chair as my Grandma rocks my babies.

2011 singing & rocking Danae

2002 Playing & Rocking Allison

I've gotten to see my grandparents faces light up with love and delight as my kids walk up to hug their necks and hear the joy in their voices as I share the antics of my kids during phone calls.

Three Generations in 2002 (first grandchild/great-grandchild)

I got a "late for a grandparent" call from my grandma around 7:30 Monday night and I hesitantly answered, expecting bad news. It was just my grandma calling to talk but she also mentioned her nose bleeds. It turns out she's been having problems with high blood pressure that have caused nose bleeds that go on for days, despite packings, clips and new blood pressure meds. While on the phone with her, I could here my grandpa, who has dementia among other issues, in the background reminding her not to touch her nose. It amazes me the things that he remembers and the things that slip his mind. But here he was reminding her not to cause the 4 day nosebleed to get worse as she subconsciously touched her face. We had a good conversation!

Attitude of Gratitude

I love Fall and I love November!  The cooler weather and in my part of the South, the leaves finally start to change to their brilliant oranges, reds and yellows.  But the main thing that makes November so great is THANKSGIVING!  It's my favorite holiday....and it has yet to be stolen by the commercialism that surrounds so many other holidays.  I like doing the 30 Days of Thankfulness in November, but to be honest, I rarely make it all 30 days.  I tend to stay focused and remember my daily posts and notes until Thanksgiving and then I get too distracted by Christmas to finish out.

This year I'm also focusing on Scripture too.  Today's verse on Thankfulness is Psalm 107:1

How Many Kids Do You Have?

I couldn't let the month of October go by without talking about a topic that changed my life.  For many, it is a topic not discussed either due to embarrassment, shame, because it feels taboo, or just because you don't want to make others feel uncomfortable. In 2011, I wrote an article to share with my MOPS group that I wanted to share with you.

How many kids do you have?  A simple question for the average person, but if you know me very well or have even just had a conversation with me, you already know that I’m not normal!  Actually, for anyone who has lost a baby through miscarriage, stillbirth or even as an infant, this question isn’t easy to answer.  While that question has always been a bit tricky for me ...(I’m a step-parent but my son doesn’t live with our family most of the time), it became much harder to answer in seven years ago when my infant daughter died.  We found out at 28 weeks gestation that our daughter would be born with a three-ventricle heart, a chromosomal abnormality and might have some other health concerns as well.  When Emma Grace was six days old we found out that she wasn’t going to live.  We thanked God for the time we had with her, and took her home.  God gave us the most wonderful gift of time and our family was able to travel to see her and spend some precious time with her.  When God decided it was her time to go be with Him at 19 days old, we were grateful for the time we had been blessed with.  I was however left with the new problem of answering that dreaded question, “How many kids do you have?”  Do I answer two, and not count Emma?  No, to me that would diminish her life and how important she was to us.  Do I say three but one died? That didn’t go so well.  Seeing cashiers break down in tears gets old real quick and the older kids are quick to share the WHOLE story before the groceries are even finished being bagged in the check out line.  I got tired of the pity look too along with the “I’m sorry.”  Why are you sorry…you didn’t do anything wrong. 

    I’d had several years of practice and found my answer when my world got rocked again.  Six years ago (almost a year to the date of Emma’s birth) God blessed us with another daughter. A few years later we wanted to add to our family again and got pregnant right away.  I had always waited until the second trimester to share the news “just in case,” but thought, “we’ve already had our tragic event and lightening can’t strike twice.”  I was quickly put in my place, realizing that God is in control, when I had a miscarriage.  Surprisingly, this hit me harder than the death of Emma.  Maybe it was because I had time to prepare for Emma’s death, or got the chance to meet her and spend time with her, or maybe it was because I had gotten complacent and had forgotten who was really in control, or maybe it was just because it was a loss.  I kept quiet about my miscarriage for several weeks, except for those couple friends who came over to help with my foster son, take my daughter out to have a good day since it was on her birthday and to pray with me.  I was so upset with myself for not being able to just “get over it” and move on.  We could have more kids (like that line helps).  I was only a few weeks pregnant (like that made a difference in my level of pain).  I had other children to love and care for, didn’t I appreciate them (that doesn’t make the child I was carrying any less important).  I finally broke down at a leadership meeting with my MOPS group and asked for prayer.  Admitting that I was sad, hurting, couldn’t control what had happened or the feelings of loss I felt helped in and of itself.  I slowly started to heal, but was humbled by how secretive I felt about my loss despite being an advocate for pregnancy and infant loss as well as being part of the pregnancy and infant loss support group in my town.  I wasn’t embarrassed, I just didn’t want to talk about it, get those pity looks or have people treat me differently.  I remember feeling the loss and sadness all over again on what would have been my due date and having this gut feeling that the baby had been a boy.
                                                                                 
     That year in October, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I shared a little bit with my MOPS group.  We lit a candle representing the life of each child lost and listened to “Held” by Natalie Grant as the women came up one at a time, until 43 candles were lit, some women lighting three or four.  We had the lights turned down and I was in awe of the glow of the light that represented these children.  Moms at the table started to share with each other about their loss and some spoke about their loss for the first time.   It was closure for many and helped us to see that we’re not alone.

    

God blessed us again with another daughter the following year (just shortly after the anniversary of my miscarriage).  She is now two and a half and while I don’t think about my miscarriage very often and I feel “healed” and “whole” again, that didn’t happen overnight.

The Struggle Bus

Have you ever been on the Struggle Bus?  You know what I'm talking about, right?!  Things are tough, but not catastrophic.  You're able to manage the circumstances, although they exhaust you and wear you out, but you can handle it.  Sometimes the ride is short and sometimes it's a long haul.  

Well, I was talking to my Little Middle this morning about how I've been distant from God lately. I told her being on the Struggle Bus lately seems to have distanced me from God.  She's been on the Struggle Bus lately too and I don't know that I've been a very good example of how to handle life.  I talk the talk but we parents all know that our kids learn more by our actions than our words.  I was having a moment of clarity and reflection.  Are you with me?

My relationship with God is probably much like that of a close girl friend in many ways.  I love that I can talk to Him anytime I need or want to talk to Him.  Something comes up and I stop mid-sentence to handle the mini-crisis and then pick right back up where I left off.  Other times He seems to sit on hold for hours while I go about my life, and then I suddenly start talking to Him again and I just know that He knows the background of the situation and I don't need to explain it all.  A close friend understands when a phone conversation gets interrupted a million times because you have to handle the kids, drive thru order, husband calling on the other line and can't seem to talk and chop the veggies at the same time so you pause for a few minutes.  A good friend remembers what's going on and understands you enough that you can call in the middle of the day to talk about an issue without needing a background story and likewise, she's there to let you vent and give you words of inspiration to pick you back up so you can "suck it up, Buttercup" and plug along.  My relationship with God has been much like that in many circumstances. 

I didn't always have a close relationship with God. You know when you've been introduced to someone, but they're not quite your "friend?"  You say a few kind words, you are nice to them and include them in the conversations because they're friends with your loved one and that's what is expected and what good people do.  That's probably the best description of my relationship with God during my youth. As a teen, I turned my back on God and walked away from my faith.  I knew I believed in God and I believed in Jesus, but the differences within Christianity itself was confusing and intimidating.  It was easier to just not be a part of it than to try to figure out what I believed and how I fit into it all.   Years later and with the a set of glasses no longer clouded by teenage hormones, I can see how much harder my life was because I tried to do it on my own.  I pray that my kids have His Word hidden in their hearts and are building a relationship with God that allows them to hear that prompting of the Holy Spirit calling to them when they start to stray of His path. That ride on the Struggle Bus is one I wouldn't want to take again and I pray that the don't go through the pain that I suffered on that long winding road of loneliness (when I felt all alone because I forgot He's always there with me). 


At other times in my life, my relationship with God is much like a traditional Daddy-little girl relationship.  I've come to Him crying so hard that I can't even get words out through my tears, sometimes followed by questions of why and how or other times with anger of my lack of understanding. In these times, I curl up in a ball, feeling as if I'm on the lap of My Almighty and envision Him wrapping His arms of love around me in comfort and peace.  Sometimes I'm there for a few minutes, sometimes hours and at others times it can take a while before I feel the strength to pick myself up and take the next step.  I've also had times when it was blatantly obvious that HE CARRIED ME through the storm.  In my mid-20s God brought my soul-mate into my life and in one short year after meeting we were married and had a baby and then less than a year later, I saw him off to the Middle East for a war and an unknown future. After years of doing it on my own, I started turning back to God in those times.  The next year of marriage saw my husband return from war, start a new career in the oilfield and the blessing of a new baby on the way, but then another bump in the road brought both of us even closer to God.  When we found out our baby had a chromosomal problem and life-threatening heart defect, God began to carry us.  He carried us through our daughter's difficult birth, six minutes of CPR that she endured and the miracle of her short life.  He gave us peace that surpassed all understanding, wisdom for decisions we had never thought to discuss and gave us comfort of knowing He is in control.  He then gave us the strength to plan a memorial and console others as we said a precious goodbye to a beautiful soul.  He continued to carry us through the months of grief afterward, followed by major damage to our home and repairs along with a surprise pregnancy that gave us a beautiful rainbow after the storm.  When friends said they couldn't understand how we did it, we answer that it wasn't us.  When I look back now, I am amazed at what I was able to handle and accomplish.  I still don't have the strength to handle all that was thrown my way, even with more years of motherhood, life experience and a more mature Christian relationship I'm not able to see with my human eye how I made it.  It was God carrying us through that season.  That was a long ride on the Struggle Bus but I'm so glad I was on that ride.  I also know without a doubt that if we ever faced another storm like that, that our God would carry us through it as well.

Fear of Failure & Judgement

In February 2016, I decided enough was enough and made some life changes! As of October 2017 I have lost 90 pounds!  

I have had a lifelong battle with the scale and size.  SOME of you know how this goes... dieting, losing weight, falling off the wagon, giving up and having regain.

 The list of factors contributing my obesity is long but here's a small glimpse:

• weight gain as medication side effects 
• hormone imbalance 
• mental health battles 
• inability to recognize what "full" feels like in my body
• portion control (distortion of serving sizes) issues
• deciding to just be comfortable with who I am (giving up)
• coming to terms with just being a "fluffy girl" (defeated feeling)
• even eating disorders(anorexia and then anorexia/bulimia) 

 I had gotten to the point that I didn't even climb on the scale because I told myself I wasn't going to let the number on it define me.  Honestly, the number alone wasn't what left me feeling defeated but my general unhealthy feeling, lack of energy, and many other things brought me to this turning point.

How did I lose this weight?

COUNTING....lots of counting was involved.  Steps, miles, minutes, ounces, grams, teaspoons, tablespoons, cups, pieces, bites, and even sips were tracked (and still are being tracked on good days).  Months, weeks, days, hours and even minutes were counted too.  SUPPORT....the people who've supported me in this journey and the strength from God have counted the most though.

But that's not all. In February 2016, at a high weight of 243 pounds I had an appointment at Bariatric Solutions to discuss the options of weight loss surgery.  That started a 7-month long journey of meeting with dieticians, nurses, surgeon and other doctors, counselors, various tests, lots of research and hoops to jump through. I lost 20 pounds by October 18, 2016 when I had Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy (VSG) surgery.  WHAT??! 
 
Fear of Failure and Judgement meant most of this journey happened with little knowledge or support from those around me. 

I've said, "Enough is enough!" plenty of times in my life, lost some weight and then regained all I had lost and then some.  At first I wasn't sure if my insurance would even approve the surgery, so I used that as an excuse.  Then, I let fear of judgement jump on board.  "I knew she didn't do it on her own!" "I sure hope this isn't like every other time she's lost weight."  "Tssk, Tssk!  All she has to do is put down the fork and put on some running shoes!"  "I know So-And-So who had surgery and...."  If you've gotten this far into the post, there's a chance some of those thoughts have already crossed your mind, but would you have been one of those people in my life who voiced those thoughts?  Would you have said it to me or just others?  Have you asked yourself why you feel the need to judge? Change is hard and being under a microscope while making change is even harder. 

I'm sure you have many other questions, 

so read on and maybe some of them will get answered.

Don't get me wrong...I had support on my weight loss journey, but not the huge cheer-leading squad I might have had if I'd have gone public before this point.  My husband has been my biggest support and I eventually told my parents & sister too.  Many family members and friends don't even know all that has happened in my journey to get me to this point.  I've had some success, but my journey isn't over.  

Here's a few pics to show you how far I've come though...

October 2016

 April 2017

 October 2017

Random Ramblings....

Not exactly the planned "First Post of the Year," but some thoughts came to mind and I figured I might as well put it in print before they leave my head....

1.  Headaches, especially sinus headaches, suck!
2. When said awful headache is gripping your head, you desire slightly more space from your lovely loud family.
3.  Ear plugs and hearing protection (ear muffs) are not enough to drown out noise from said loud family.
4. It is interesting what noises your body makes that suddenly become noticeable with ear plugs and ear muffs. No, I'm not talking about gross stuff, but rather how loud swallowing seems when drinking, and apparently "slurping" the coffee.  I didn't even realize I was slurping, but apparently drinking normally sounds like slurping with your ears plugged.
5. I wish we had some rugs in our rather large, hard floored kitchen to help absorb some sound.
6. The kids and Hubby always seem to need something right after I get my ear plugs tucked in just right.
7. Much like anytime a mom goes to the bathroom, if you leave a room to get away from the noise, people follow you, suddenly needing something.
8. Sudafed and ibuprofen don't seem to work fast enough when my head is throbbing this much.

The End.

A Christmas Story....

After several years of being encouraged by my friends and husband to start a blog, I finally decided to take the plunge and God gave me just the situation to write about today.

Our Christmas morning started like most others in our history….kids waking up, getting excited to find the wise men and baby Jesus and then handing out the presents to open.  This is the first time in about 6 years that we were able to put the presents under the tree ahead of time without fear of our youngest spoiling the surprises with some early opening.  Hubby and I decided to play a little trick on the kids though.  We mislabeled all of the gifts and had a cheat sheet for getting them to their proper receivers.  In our home, each of us gets three gifts since Jesus got three gifts, so this took a little planning since there is a predetermined amount.  Instead of our usual youngest to oldest order, we let the kids try a game of paper, rock, and scissors to determine who went first in opening a gift.  Lala one the game and started to open her gift from Jesus (traditionally things you need like socks, underwear, clothing and hygiene items).  As she gets the paper about half way off of the box I said, “Wait….whose name is on that label?” After double checking that it is in fact hers, she continues to open a little further before I “recognize” the box and say, “Wait….that’s not yours. It’s Red’s present.”  Surprisingly Lala plays along and gladly hands the gift over and trades with her older sister, assuming that gift is her gift.  Again she starts happily unwrapping the gift and is halfway done when I say, “Wait.  What name is on THAT present?”  She confirms it is her sister’s name and then goes back to opening it.  Again, I “recognize” the box and say, “Does that label have a puppy dog sticker on it?”  She confirms my suspicion and I let her know that the gift is in fact her younger sister’s present.  In an out of character moment, she happily switches boxes again….mentioning that she wondered about the cat label on Nanae’s box.  As she’s opening what is REALLY her present this time, Red cracks the code!  Apparently she had spied the cheat sheet my hubby insisted we make (since he was so sure I’d forget which one went to which kid) and used the clues of the puppy and cat labels to figure it out.  We all had a laugh and Hubby and I were excited to pull one over on the kids. 

We enjoyed our breakfast of homemade orange cinnamon rolls and then went out to deliver some baked goods to the local sheriff’s department and fire station.  This task took a little more forethought since we are surrounded by volunteer fire departments.  We decided to go to the nearest town, which happens to house our sheriff’s department as well, and deliver our goods.  Surprise, surprise!  In a community this small, or could it be that we’re still not used to living in the Bible Belt, but the sheriff’s department was CLOSED!  I’ve never heard of such a thing….but then again, I did most of my growing up in the city or at least a suburban area.  We went next door to the Detention Center figuring it had to be open…and we were just as appreciative that they were keeping tabs on the bad guys.  After a few buzzers and a perplexed worker, we managed to deliver a package of baked goods (although a signed card probably would have made a better impression).  She asked who they were from and it suddenly dawned on me that maybe not everyone is as appreciative of the workers as we were.  Hubby and I figured the nicely decorated cookies, thumbprint cookies with homemade jam, and candy and nuts probably got dumped in the trash as a safety measure.  Note to self: Next year enclose all gifts for community workers with signed card…maybe even address.  Sadly, we also found out that the fire department for the “larger city” was also run by volunteers and likely closed so we were back at ground zero in our effort to show our love and appreciation until we passed Walmart.  Not what you’re thinking because even Walmart is closed on Christmas in a town like this, but Waffle House isn’t.  Anyway, I digress….my observant hubby notices a city police car parked on the sidewalk by the door.  YES!  Mission salvaged.  As I walked to the car, he rolled down the window and had a rather curious expression on his face.  With what was probably too many words and too much information, I explained that we were trying to show our appreciation for those who work on holidays year round to protect us and were glad to stumble upon him after realizing most departments were closed.  I even asked if he needed me to sign something or give him our names so he felt safer eating the cookies. LOL….I have many moments when I think AFTER I speak.  Anyway…I hope he enjoyed the goods and didn’t throw them away thinking they were from a bunch of loons.  At least I know our lovely mail lady enjoyed her cookies as she ate one while we discussed life.  Lesson learned.
I learned another lesson today…..and it involved our Christmas turkey.  While we were given a lovely ham from my grandparents and another lovely ham from my hubby’s work, I truly love turkey…as does my family.  This year’s Thanksgiving had a seafood take which was pretty darn neat, especially since we don’t eat crab very often (seriously…this was the third time in my life I’d eaten crab!), so I still had that craving for some mammoth poultry that takes hours and hours to cook and leaves loads of glorious leftovers for sandwiches and to create alternative meals from as well as great bones to make stock.   I managed to score THE LAST TURKEY at a local grocery store and spent the last week thawing it and planning my menu.  I was stoked!  I had done the prep work of making my mashed potatoes and dinner rolls yesterday, so I was already a step ahead of the game when I woke up this morning. While I lacked the energy to brine the big bird last night, I knew it’d be juicy and succulent anyway…after all, it’s a Butterball!  I chopped my herbs, peeled and chunked my onions, carrots and celery to go along with my peeled garlic in the cavity and I have my oven ready to go…..blazing hot at 500 degrees.  Several years ago, I learned a trick from Alton Brown on the Food Network about putting the bird in feet first for the first 30 minutes at 500 with a triangle of foil over the breast meat, then removing said foil and dropping the temp to the standard 350.  It leaves the skin so brown and crispy and really seals in all those juices.  I’ve used this method successfully for the past eight years or so.  I occasionally check the bird for temperature to gauge the timing of starting my side dishes.  When my trusty meat thermometer read 145 in the breast and 150 in the thigh, I started my side dishes and at 160 in the breast and 180 in the thigh I pulled my beautifully browned bird from the oven to rest while the sides cooked in the oven.  After 30 minutes, my sides were done and it was time to carve my bird.  I was just making the beginning slices to get the large breast cut away from the bone so it could be carved easier (again…a trick learned from some respectable chef on Food Network).  As I remove the meat to a plate I notice pink. On top of that, I notice that there is a little extra something remaining in the cavity after I had pulled out my veggies.  No… I didn’t make a rookie mistake of leaving the bag of “inards” inside the bird.  I am a nice pet parent and simmer those parts along with the neck for my furbabies.  But somehow I failed to notice that whoever had scraping detail failed to get all of the intestines out of my bird.  YUK!  I had already flipped this bird to move it from pan to carving board, and all the juices had run all over my beautifully browned bird. On top of that, what was obviously an undercooked bird had “rested” for half an hour prior to carving.  Now might be a great time to mention that I’ve never cooked a bird over 15 pounds before and this beast weighed in at a mammoth 21 pounds.  Even though the thighs were completely cooked to the 180, apparently I had not pushed the thermometer in deep enough on the breast meat.  DOH!  I’m not an amateur cook here.  I love cooking; I do it pretty much every day; I watch cooking on TV and collect recipes as a hobby.  I was thinking that I was glad this wasn’t a year that we had company because this was EMBARRASSING.

I looked at my hubby and said, “I bet all of the Chinese restaurants are closed too.”  No duck for us while being serenaded with “Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra….Ra Ra Ra Raaaa.”  So our semi-vegetarian Christmas dinner consisted of mashed potatoes and gravy, dressing, green beans and dinner rolls.  It was a carb-a-holics dream!  Despite the great dinner and company, I have to admit there was quite the list of all the dishes I wouldn't be able to create with my turkey.  Hopefully this will one day be remembered as the “Great Turkey Debacle of 2014” and I will push the thermometer much further into the breast meat next time to ensure that I’ve gone through ALL OF THE LAYERS OF MEAT!  Hey…it could also be known as the year I saved our family from food poisoning.