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Posted by linds on January 12th, 2012

Lyrics

I’m feeling emotional and sappy today for numerous reasons… you have been warned.

“You’re worth every falling tear, You’re worth facing any fear…
I’ll trade the fear of all that I could lose for every moment I share with you”

There’s a new(ish) song on the radio (that I heard today which spawned this post) that has literally grabbed my heart. I have shed many a tear over these lyrics and they touch me beyond ways that I can explain. But, I’m going to attempt to try. The song is titled “All of Me” by Matthew Hammitt. He wrote the song for his son who was born with only half a heart and was not expected to live. They have endured life-altering things with this little boy who is now a healthy 1-year-old.

Now, Mason’s illness is far from the devastating (and constant) thing that these people have had to deal with, but to some level I understand. I think we all do as parents, as watching our children suffer in any capacity is gut wrenching. But, to those of us who have children who suffer from nearly fatal illnesses, or for those of us who have been in a situation where our children have been near death- they mean a little more.

Every time I hear this song, one image comes to my mind. It’s the image of my son gravely ill on my kitchen floor. I have an epi-pen in his leg with one hand and I’m on the phone with the 9-1-1 dispatcher with the other. I can still see in slow motion the paramedics grabbing him from my arms and abruptly leaving telling me nothing other than where they were taking him. Then there was the terrifying drive behind an ambulance that slowly slipped out of view as they drove my son to the hospital. I knew by their speed and concerned looks when they took him from me that he was not ok. I cried and begged God more in that 10-minute drive to the hospital than I ever have in my life. I pleaded with him to let my baby boy be ok. To let him be breathing when I saw him again. I begged God to give him life back. I didn’t want the last image in my mind of my son to be a blue, lifeless child.

While I had always lived in fear with his allergies before that day, every day since has been worse. But I’d truly trade all that I could lose, for the moments I spend with him. I’m glad to be in my shoes; to be his mom, to have him here. I’d rather have the stress of his illness in my life than not have him at all. My heart may ache. I may shed tears out of frustration, fear and concern for my little boy, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I wouldn’t have him any other way.

I think we all can agree as parents that our children are worth everything they put us through- the tears, frustrations, joys and heartaches.

Posted by linds on November 2nd, 2011

Turkey Time

Now that the worst “holiday” ever (aside from sweetest’s day… I mean, really?) has come to an end, it’s time to move to something really worth talking about.

Editor’s note: I hate Halloween. Mostly for its detrimental-waisteline effects.

Let’s think about Thanksgiving. The one holiday that requires so little, but so much preparation (if you’re hosting, that is). I don’t host Thanksgiving. Ever. Despite my inability to cook anything, I’m not hospitable no matter how hard I try. Not to mention we have one of the smaller houses of the family, which automatically makes us exempt of hosting.

So what else is there to do to prepare? Decorate? What can you even do? Put up a turkey poster? That’s just weird. It’s not like we slap cardboard hams on the windows for Easter.

Of course, there will be all those handprint turkeys to deal with, and every parent of a school-aged kid knows the handprint turkey that I speak of. There’s just so…many of them. It’s as if they bring one home then the next thing you know there’s another all-construction-paper bird lurking in the school cubby. Little by little they infiltrate, one oddly shaped thumb-head at a time. One on the window, next thing you know one on the fridge, the mirrors, doors. They creep up everywhere you turn- with their beady little bird eyes just staring at you.

They can only be disposed of (like all children’s school/art work) in the dark of night, stealthily and well past bedtime, lest a young but blaring voice announce, “HEY WHERE’S MY HANDPRINT TURKEY THAT WAS STUCK TO THE KITCHEN CABINET, RIGHT NEXT TO MY HANDPRINT TURKEY THAT WAS STUCK TO THE KITCHEN COUNTER, NEXT TO THE SIDEWAYS-ICE-CREAM-SUPPOSED-TO-BE-CONRACOPIA-THING? MOM!!!!! TELL ME!!!!

For parents of younger, non-school-aged children, you’ll be tempted to keep every piece of paper they doodle on. Who knows? They could be the next Picaso. From church bulletins to glimmering art projets of your aspiring little artist, the clutter will soon take over. Here me when I say, there WILL come a day when you look at it and think it’s just one more piece of paper that’s finding it’s way to the recylcing bin. The guilt of disposing of 15+ trees worth of art projects a year is relieved by knowing a few things: knowing that it can at least be recycled into paper for some other little artist. Or your napkin at McDonalds. Or a “green” grocery bag. Not to mention the fact that there’s always next year for the return of the little construction paper-handprint bird.

It’s like they can’t come up with anything more creative. From pre-school on, it must be written in public school ciricculum to make them. I think they just do it to annoy us parents. And creep us out.

Posted by linds on October 21st, 2011

Um, yeah…

It’s been over 5 months since I’ve posted and yet even with all that’s gone on, I feel like I have nothing to say. There’s no possible way I have the time to catch up here on the last few months of our lives, so we’ll just use the words hectic and chaotic and leave it at that. We’ve all survived, and that’s all that matters.

I will note a few highlights that have followed the craziness:
- my dog has developed an anxiety problem.
- our contractors and 24-hour emergency disaster clean up crew have made the speed dial list on my phone (the requirements for being on my speed dial include that I call you at least once a day).
-we have a dead squirrel on our back deck that we haven’t had a chance to remove so we’re turning it into a educational lesson on decomposition.
-we have no clean dishes because our kitchen sink won’t drain and we’re too worried about ceilings falling on our heads that we haven’t had the time to call a plumber. priorities.
-I lived on hospital food for a month and lived to tell about it.
-The word “permanent” address means nothing. In the last 3 months, we’ve lived with family, in 2 different hotels along with occasional nights in our own house.
-My kids would make great gypsies. They actually ask us where they’ll be sleeping tonight like it’s normal dinner conversation.

We’ve kept the humor going because when things get so bad as to not have ceilings, a roof or part of your walls in any single room of your house, and you don’t even budge when you hear things come crashing down anymore, there’s not much more to do other than laugh. So as Mike the contractor continues to rebuild my upstairs bathroom as we speak, I’m going to leave this be and just let you know that we’re alive. Until next time…

Posted by linds on May 19th, 2011

So Proud!

I’m so very proud of my momma! She’s always dreamed of being a nurse. She’s been a medical assistant, pharmacy technician and more, but after a lot of obstacles and trials to overcome, she finally chased her dream into Nursing School. Three long, hard years later of school and working both full time, she’s made it! Graduation is July 1 and I could not e more excited and proud of her for finally being able to accomplish her dream! I love you, mom!!!

Posted by linds on May 19th, 2011

CARS!

My boys are all boy. They like dirt, bugs and everything related to things with wheels. One wheel or 18 it doesn’t matter. We have more rolling toys in our house than anything else. So what better than to make your own?!

Pappy brought the boys some cars to paint and then assemble and they had a blast! It was so fun to watch them decorate their cars and then assemble them. Mason assembled his all by himself. He (and I) was so proud. Brody needed a little extra help, but we definitely had a blast. It was a 2-day event. Painting one night and letting it set out to dry them putting it together the next night.

It was a great family event. So great, in fact, that Pappy has now brought us some helicopters to start working on!