The World's Smallest Violin Needed Please...

Yesterday I woke up to Derrick's alarm clock, going off every five minutes from six o'clock until seven when he actually decided to get up. I laid there in the dark awake, and I could feel myself becoming increasing unhappy. Yes, I know there are reasons for my sadness at this particular juncture in the month, but that doesn't make it any easier to take, month after month after month.

I laid there thinking, "I really wish we could go to the Clumsy Lovers in Spokane this Friday with everyone, then go to the big wedding in Yakima on Saturday, and then have the big finale of skiing on Sunday with all my pals." The only problem with this is that all of the people going to do all of the fun stuff are either single, just dating, or married without kids. They have asked us a hundred times to go hang with them this weekend, and even though I would absolutely LOVE to, it is not going to happen.

Even though I love being a mom and having a family, these are the times I wish I was 21 again, free to come and go at will. I still have as strong of a desire to go to fun things as I did then, only now any sort of fun has to be managed. A babysitter for a three-day weekend only comes once a year for us (during our anniversary), and I know that is more than most parents get.

That is what kills me. I sit around and get sad and weepy (although I will blame hormones too), over something as stupid as not getting to do what I want to do for the weekend. Why can't I choose something more vital and noble to cry about, like the fact my mom is sick, or how horrible the world condition is? There are people who have so much more to be sad about.

When Derrick woke up I told him he should go with everyone to Washington, and I would stay home so at least one of us could go. I didn't say it with a pure heart. My heart was aching with self-pity when I spoke the words. He didn't get too excited. I don't even know if he is going to take me up on my offer. He just said, "K, I'll think about it", and got ready to go to work.

I still couldn't sleep so I logged on to myspace and saw Shannon was there. We chatted just long enough for me to grumble about the general unfairness of life. Then I got into the shower and allowed myself to really wallow in some self-pity. I shook my fist at the shower walls and gently plummeled them in anger. I wept at the unkindness of life. When my eyes were good and puffy (but the rest of me was clean), I got out, put on my robe, went to the kitchen and made coffee. Today was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, whether I was hormonal or not, and I needed to get going.

When the puffiness receded, I put on some makeup, got dressed, dressed the kids, and drove them to the daycare facility I use sometimes. Then I drove to the hospital and parked in the special area reserved for cancer patients, and went up the elevator to where my mom was, in the common chemo room. They were just putting the two chemo drips in her port when I arrived.

Mom was in a good mood, as always. She doesn't ever seem to feel too sorry for herself. She sat there and told me about all of the family and friends who are helping her. She pointed out a couple different people in the room that she knew. There was a woman named Jo that my mom wanted me to go say "hi" too. I didn't want to. I knew Jo had worked at my high school when I was a kid, but I didn't remember ever actually talking to her. I was letting myself off the polite hook because I was still feeling a little weepy, and I just didn't want to extend myself.

I looked around the room at different times while Mom and I chatted, and I noticed an older gentleman sitting behind me receiving chemo too. He didn't look like he felt too good. I glanced at him a couple of times, just kind of seeing how he was doing.

Eventually Jo came over to say goodbye. Mom gave her a hug (even though I know she doesn't hardly know her either), and wished her well. I watched Jo go over to the older guy and help him up. As I watched them walk out the door, I finally understood who he was. He had been my algebra teacher in 8th grade. He was a nice man. He was sitting there, fighting his cancer with chemo, the same as my mom is, and I didn't even go to say hi to him. My mom, sitting there, getting her first chemo treatment, had kindness and politeness to spare but I had let myself off of the hook because I had pms. My heart still hurts when I think about it now. I hope they are there next Wednesday so I can at least go over and acknowledge him.

Mom's First Round, First Week

Today was Mom's first chemo day. We found out that instead of three rounds of five weeks, it is instead going to be three rounds of six weeks (four on, two off). Mom didn't seem too upset by this, however.

It took about three hours. They gave her a steroid at first to help with any nausea. Then they gave her two drips, one with a chemo (the name of it I can't remember), and the other with a vitamin (related to folic acid) that helps her body use the second chemo(5-FU) they gave her after the first two drips were gone. Dr. Nichols said that until a couple years ago they gave all patients with colon cancer the 5-FU, with only about 10% success rate. Then they found that people the chemo wasn't working on had a vitamin deficiency that made the cancer cells resistant to the chemo, and ever since they started adding the vitamin, their success rates have gone up to 90%. Good to know!

Mom looked and felt fine throughout the chemo. The nurse said if she does get any fatigue or any other side effects (apparently there will be some side effects, regardless of what we were told before), that they will appear the day after tomorrow. But most side effects start after about three weeks of chemo. So, we will just have to wait and see what happens. But so far, so good.

Playing in the Snow

We planned on going skiing today, but alas all of our "fun" money got sucked up by the Purple Bomb (insurance deductable and car rental... don't get me going, I could gripe for HOURS about this), SO, we instead decided to go up to Lolo Pass and take the kids sledding. It turned out to be a fun day for all.

Shortcut Memories

Today I remembered something about myself and where it came from. This happened at a green light on South Street, the one that turns into the mall. I was sitting in the back seat of my parent's car with Kloe. Mom and Dad were in the front, and Dad was starting the shift in his seat and shake him head. His agitation was so great that he was moved to murmur,"Do you see this traffic? This is going to take forever. Why isn't anyone moving."

I tried to reassure him by saying,"Yeah, the traffic is never that great through here. It will move along eventually."

To which he responded by moving into the left turning lane and winding all the way through the mall parking lot to Brooks street. I looked in the rear window and it was clear the traffic was moving again. But I said nothing.

Dad's "shortcuts" are an interesting memory from childhood(the particular trip I am thinking about happened in Vancouver, Canada), usually ending up in my little brother and I in the backseat miserable and fighting, and Mom and Dad in the frontseat, miserable and fighting (actually, fighting between my parents included my mom having words with Dad, and him going to his happy place). His shortcuts were a surefire way to three extra hours tacked onto any trip.

Today it only added about five extra minutes BUT it made me remember that my own impatience does have roots all the way back to my paternity... and that makes me actually look at this particular flaw with some fondness. I will have to hold on to that feeling the next time I am winding my way through the back streets of Missoula, lost again (as much as you can get lost in this town) because I was too impatient to wait for yet another red light.

Mom's Port

Mom got her port today. It looks like little stethoscope with a thin tube (it's about 6 inches long) hanging off of it. It went under her skin, right under her collarbone(so she will just have a little bump under her skin, nothing is exposed), and the tube went into the artery that runs into her heart. She has little veins that they can hardly get an IV in (they usually have to poke and prod about 4 or 5 times before they have any success), so the port will save her having to be poked so much. Every Wednesday now, they will just have to poke into the port with a chemo IV drip (and they numb that area with cream first so it won't hurt too much). The chemo itself is not supposed to have side effects (they can treat any effect that does appear). So she won't lose her hair, and she won't have nausea. She sailed through the port procedure. She looks great. So, the next move is the first treatment of chemo, which starts next Wednesday.

On Motherhood... again...

During bathtime:

Kloe: (insane uncontrollable shrieking): Momma!!!! MOMMA!!!! There is a buggy in the bathtub!!! MOMMA... Pieces of BUGS!!!! BUGSSSS!!!

I enter bathroom, find gnat in the bathtub, take out the gnat (although to be fair, it was hard to catch), and then:

Kloe: THANK YOU SO MUCH MOMMA. That was SCARY! (Kloe then starts playing again happily.)

I am the hero of the hour.

Good News!

Yesterday was the big appointment with Mom's doctor. She had her PET scan last Wednesday and we had to wait until Monday to get the results. The point of the test was to tell us if the cancer was contained to her liver or if it had spread further. The results were the best case scenerio.

The scan showed that the cancer is only in the lower lobe of the liver. Since that is that case, now we can move forward. She has the have three rounds of chemo, each five weeks long. Each round includes coming in on Wednesday once a week for treatment (generally about three hours long) for three weeks and then taking two weeks off until the next round. Doing the chemo before surgery does two things: 1) the tumor acts as a gage to see how effective the chemo is against the cancer. As long as the tumor is shrinking, we will know that any remaining seeds of cancer are also being destroyed and 2) the smaller the tumor gets, the easier time the surgeon will have removing it. So, after 15 weeks of chemo, and then a surgery, Mom should be cancer-free. What wonderful news.

The Self-Destruct Button (Distant evil cousin to Happy Place)

Does everyone have to struggle with a self-destruct button(also related to the easy way out card), or is it just me? I don't know why being true to who you are(which means only acknowledging the good parts*haha*) is so hard! Little Nuggets of darkness seem to be burrowed in my brain. I thought living my life right and creating a happy situation for myself would deactivate my counterproductive thoughts. That simply isn't true. They come out at night to push and prod. It doesn't matter how much I stand to lose.

I swear, the happier I am, the calmer things are around here (actually, now that I think about it things aren't calm around here at all... things are stressful and ever-changing at the moment, which also seems to be a trigger), the more the little voice in the back of my head goes,"Go ahead, do *insert whatever bad behavoir(say that part with a low, french accent*spongebob style*, it is more fun that way)*! It'll be FINE. You are so strong right now that you can walk on water! Consequences ~meh~consequences, shnosequences. Not only will you not feel bad after *insert bad behavoir*, but you will feel better than before! You will feel more energized, healthier, more appreciative of the good things in life, and possibly sexier! Go ahead (mental nudge), just do it!!!"

I can shut up the voice and control my actions about a 100 times better than when I was younger(not to say I never fail, maybe only 95 times better), mainly because I've been burnt by it so many times. Waking up after *insert bad behavoir*, feeling like absolute crap, feeling the guilt pains, having to tell on myself (because I also have little nuggets of self-tattling in there), feels so bad. Usually there is a headache involved. Definately a stomach ache from the stress.

So in conclusion, I am not perfect("really?!? ",you gasp). I can't even pretend to be.

Ode to the Happy Place

I read the blog below and started thinking...hmmm... this so called "happy place" may need to be explained. Especially after mentioning that my son asked if there was alcohol in my coffee cup (he really did too). I do not know WHY he asks me such things, except for that he gets to watch me snap to attention and get all serious and agitated (and anyone who knows kids knows how they love to get a reaction). Then he gets to hear another lecture about alcohol. I can't seem to control lectures about random dangers of life, which also include the obvious: alcohol, smoking, drugs, talking to strangers, crossing the street, wearing the seatbelt, sharp things, poisonous things, things that will electricute you, why you can only have one vitamin a day, staying away from large pools of water unless an adult is with you, what hypothermia is, what dehydration is, how to avoid split ends, and the importance of learning to stop, drop and roll. It goes along with chronic worrying as a mommy.

Last week he asked me on two different occasions if I would like a beer for lunch (and if you are the sort to have a beer for lunch, good for you, but the point is my son is not allowed to aspire to be a bartender as of yet), only to have to hear the lecture that would surely follow. I'm pretty sure my boy is figuring out all of my strings at the age of six. By the time he is sixteen he will know the exact combonation of questions to turn my brain into pure quivering putty. I am afraid.

Back to my happy place. My neice pointed out to me about a year ago that I sort of "check out" when things get too hectic. I started paying closer attention and realised it was true. In fact, it has always been true. The biggest beef most of my grade school teachers had with me was what they called "daydreaming". I think they might call it ADD these days...

I think that is why blogging holds an appeal to me. At least this is sort of a productive checking out, and I have real documentation about what I was thinking of during my happy place interlude. At least it's not me humming to myself in a corner, sitting cross-legged on the floor, predictably rocking back and forth. Not that I ever really did that. Really.

Sometimes my happy place is a source of real coping. For instance, this summer I found myself in the backseat of a truck barrelling down a dirt road way faster than I personally would have if given the choice. The back of the truck was full to the brim with innertubes that would soon carry us down the river, the front of the truck was enveloped by a billowing cloud of dust from the truck ahead of us. I remember consciously trying to relax my whole body to keep myself from leaping into the front seat with the driver, wrestling for control of the steering wheel and gas, and thereby preserving our souls alive. The next thing I remember, we are almost there and Shannon is saying,"I HATE YOU. You were in your happy place the whole time, weren't you." Because she realised she had been basically alone in her scary backseat experience. And I realised, why yes, I had been... away. I had been thinking about : *my kids*my home*different projects I'd like to get going on* what it would be like to own my own private island* what being the queen of that island would entail* why people who win the lottery don't choose to invest more(for instance, why not buy an island?) instead of buying a hundred sports cars*and finally about what a beautiful day it was. That death surely was around the next dusty bend had become insignificant.

Other times I go to my happy place include: Any mall excursion that involves crowds of people, any public appearance which includes children who are tired, hungry or otherwise cranky(although from the outside it looks like I am there dealing pretty well), any experience which includes dangling out of a helicoptor, attached to the hand of the man who is trying futily to save my life, only to find his glove is slowly slipping off...

So, based on this explanation, I hope you find that this happy place is not only a good place, but also a very necessary one. And if you don't have one, maybe you should invest in one yourself.

Pushing Buttons

For times when I am distracted or in my happy place, my kids have their own way of bringing me back to reality:

There is Kloe's method:

"Momma!"

"Yes?"

"I saw a squirrel and a birdie and I said hi to them."

"Mmmm."

"MOMMA."

"Mmmm?"

"I SAID I saw a squirrel and a birdie, and I said HIII to them".

"Mmmm."

"MOMMA!!!!!! I SAW A BIRDIE AND A SQUIRREL AND I SAID "HI BIRDIE AND SQUIRREL" AND THEY SAID "HI KLOE" AND WE ALL LAUGHED AND PLAYED AND DANCED...MOMMA,DID YOU HEAR ME? DID YOU HEAR ME????"

"Yes dear, you are adorable".

Satisfied silence.

Then there is Derrin's method:

"Hey MOM!"

"Mmmm?"

"Is that coffee in your cup?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Is it alcohol?"(expectant waiting, as he enjoys this particular button)

"What?!? NO, it's coffee!(practically hyperventalating with agitation) Why would I have alcohol??? For one thing, I am driving and for another, you don't drink alcohol for breakfast? Alcohol is tricky, you have to be careful with it! You should only drink at night and even then not too much and as for YOU, you are 6 and you don't drink at all!!!"

Satisfied Silence.

The Cold Choice

If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times. The only good reason to get sick is for the opportunity to drink nyquil. We always get the green kind because it is a little easier than the red stuff to choke down. I have to say, the nyquil made me sleep better than I have in a month. Too good actually. I woke up twenty minutes late because of my sweet sick-time liquid friend. When I finally did drag myself out of bed I realized I was in that wonderful nyquil induced fog that usually lasts until noon. Glorious fog. A glorious bubble of nyquil fog (I'm still in the fog if you wonder why I'm repeating myself. The fog makes words prettier and more fun to type over and over). The fog makes the stuffy nose and sore throat feel interesting instead of irritating. The fog makes hurrying to be on time for school irrevelant. The fog makes one decide to wear pajamas (at least I brushed my teeth and put in my contacts) to drop son off at school . I just sat lower in my carseat and tried not to let passerbys see the real morning me. The fog makes one forget that her husband is having teeth pulled today. The fog (glorious fog that makes personal responsibility null and void) makes one forget she is supposed to pick up her husband at the oral surgeon's office. Fortunately, my father-in-law called to remind me so I was just a little late to pick Derrick up.

Now I am on the orange daytime syrup. Not quite as fun, but effective. Between the remaining fog, the orange stuff and the two cups of coffee I have had so far, life is good, although I am still making sure to mention to all that I do indeed have a cold. I so rarely get sick that I have to make sure the word gets out so people know I will have empathy for them when THEY get sick (noble, I know).

Scan

Today is Mom's pet scan. We won't really find out any results until the 18th, but at least this is a move forward in getting treatment for her. Another thing that is working in our favor is that a large group of oncologists are meeting tomorrow and they have chose Mom and her case as their topic of discussion. The more minds on it the better.

cars, movies, and a road trip

Category: Life We chose to stay in our home arena this weekend. We know where everything is here, for instance our favorite restaurants. We also know where the theater is here. We also know where all of my favorite places to shop are. But really what convinced us to stay in Missoula, and really Montana, is that our rental car is restricted from going out of state.

The insurance guy called me, and their solution to the burnt purple bomb was to replace the motor with one that has fifty thousand less miles on it. I admit, I was disappointed. I had hoped for his solution to be,"Ma'am, this poor vehicle is a big pile of crap and a hazard as well. Not only am I totalling it, but I think I'll throw a couple thou more into the mix for your pain and suffering and the risk of your life while putting out the flames." That was not his thinking however, so now we really are going to have to sell my purple car. The truth is, it is a pretty good car, except for the burning thing, so it shouldn't be so hard to sell.

So, knowing we will be selling the purple car, we are in the market for a new car. We spent quite a little time on Friday looking at every sort of car one can think of. Derrick is a car enthusiast. He knows all there is about any car you can imagine. As such, he also enjoys fine quality in a car. It is good to have him on the team of buying a car. I, although not knowing ANYTHING about cars (except for color... I definately have that down), AM the money person on the team. I know exactly how much we have every month, how many bills we have, exactly how far I can stretch a dollar. I am fairly vital to this team as well. Unfortunately, when it actually comes time to choosing a car together, we seem to negate any progress that can be made with both of our very accurate observations about any said vehicle. The car that finally made us decide NOT to look at anymore cars this weekend was a GREAT buy(for what it was), and also FINE quality. It was silver, fully loaded, and although being over four years old, it only had 20,000 miles on it. I must interject here, that I do not like car salesmen. I won't make any more snide comments about them though, because as Derrick reminded me this weekend, snide comments about car salemen are not funny, they are just obvious. Of course they are tricky and dishonest. But the one that really irritated me (his name was Joe... good ol' honest Joe), tried to get on our good side really fast by saying things like,"Now Derrick, a GOOD saleman would try to get you into ANY car you wanted to, any way that they could, with 6 or 7 year loans. I am here to tell you that is not a good idea. I don't want you stretched too tight and in an upsidedown load, you know?," all being said with his hands clasped on his desk, a fatherly gleam in his eye. All being said right before showing us the silver car that was a good 150 dollars more a month than I was willing to spend. I could feel myself getting more and more irritated, partly because I could feel myself being enticed as well. It was beautiful. My own weakness in the moment was what prompted me to bark out,"WE CAN'T AFFORD THIS!!!" Derrick stopped his admiring and smiled big, fake, and through his teeth said,"We are just looking, dear". I knew I had committed some huge trespass at that moment, and I stepped back and let the men crawl in and out of doors, admiring, loving, caressing the car, Joe dreaming he would sell us this car, Derrick dreaming he would buy it. I did apologize later, and after that we tried to limit vehicle searching time.

We also went to the movie Stanger Than Fiction, which I enjoyed. It reminded me a little of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind mixed with Joe versus the Volcano. It was a little slow, but it was fun too. We also watched The Breakup that night, which I HATED. Oh my... how I hated it. I hated the man character. Yikes. The writers must have sat around making a list of every annoying and horrible characteristic a man could probably have and then they rolled it all up in the form of Vince Vaunn who is more capable of being obnoxious than any other actor I have seen. He stressed me out. By the end of the movie I was feeling angry at Derrick, just because he was a man and he was sitting there with me, and he had dared to laugh! I admit I was tired by then and wisely we went to bed shortly thereafter, before I could pick a fight over something so stupid.

Yesterday we took a drive together up to Whitefish. It is so nice to go on a ride, and to experience the total silence of a child-free car. It is called luxury. Don't get me wrong, I miss my children and I will be delighted to have them home today, but how I love sweet sweet silence in a car! We drove all the way to Big Mountain to look at one of Derrick's jobs, and we did a little bit of shopping and ate on the way home. It was simple and sweet. Below is a picture I took with my phones camera at the top of Big Mountain. It was beautiful being on top of the fog for a least a little while.

That is all for the weekend. Real life begins again later today when we get to pick up our babies. But, that's okay. I'm ready to be back in real life with them.

Mothers and Daughters

Yes, it is a little weird to be posting a blog at 6:53 on our super annivesary weekend, but my body once again will not let me sleep in, so here I am trying to be useful in my awakened state, but also still and cozy under a blanket.
We went to the best place to eat last night. It is called "The Pearl". It's in downtown Missoula just off of Main Street. It is expensive, but so good, and the atmosphere was romantic *sigh*. We bought a bottle of wine (I wish I could remember exactly what it was because it was also quite nice) and somewhere into my second glass I became (per usual) very talkative. Seriously, if I was a double agent being interregated all that they would have to give me is a couple glasses of wine and the secrets would start spilling out. Fortunately for me, Derrick knows all my secrets (I think...) and actually he was feeling very chatty too, so the conversation was fun.

Somewhere towards the end of our meal, we started talking about our kids. I was telling Derrick about Kloe.

Most of the time our little daughter doesn't live on this planet. She is in her own little Kloe land where she makes banana's be her babies (they ARE easy to cradle in ones arms) and every inantimate object she finds has a voice. She is a girl who feels and acts out every little emotion that passes though her mind, making most of our time together very dramatic. Even in her oblivion however, she is so intuned with MY feelings. When I'm upset, she pats my arm and says,"Ah mom, it's okay(encouraging smile), it will be okay momma." When she is in trouble, even if it is from me, she still wants me. She needs to feel things are still alright between us, because right now I am her safety. I understand her only because my mom has always been that for me.

I was an intense little kid, very naughty most of the time. Who was the one that cared enough to chase me around the house (while I was screaming and raising a ruckus so the neighbors would get a good show) to give the spanking I so badly needed? My mom. Who was the one who always made sure I went to school and to meetings, even through all of the fake stomachaches and other avoidant techniques I dreamed up? Mom. Who always came into my room after any punishment to explain that she loved me enough to fight for me to be a good person? My mom.

When I was about 16, my world became very dark. I changed completely for a couple of years, doing every bad thing my mom had fought to keep me from, breaking her heart on a daily basis. She was in the middle of her own dark time. She had just discovered the tip of the health problems that would plague her down to this day. She also was going through a very hard depression in the middle of raising her last two (very difficult) teenagers. She still fought for me. Every night I didn't come home, she was waiting for me and not once did she act like what I was doing was okay by her. I don't know how many nights she held me while I was in the middle of my inner turmoil. She had the right answers for me, but I couldn't hear her. That didn't make her stop reasoning with me. She once asked me where the Rachel she had raised was. I told her that girl was dead, and this was who was left. She said,"I don't believe that Rachel. You are right there. You will be back." I didn't believe her, but here I am. She has always fought for me. She has always been a light in my dark times, and she always has drawn out the best in me. She has always been the source of safety that I can cling to when I am afraid.

Someday Kloe might break my heart. I will fight for her, just like my mom fought for me, and I will fight for my mom too. That is what I love about my mother and daughter (and my sister, my neices, all the women in my life who share their hearts with me). The love we have for eachother is upbuilding. It is also ruthless and uncompromising when it comes to keeping eachother safe and whole. It makes us feel open to new possibilities and free to be who we really are, because we know no matter what, we are supported and loved. Thank goodness we have eachother.

Building a Snowman with Mom

While in Plains, Kloe and I built our first snowman (at least the first we built with our boots on) of the winter season. Then Mom, Kloe and I took a little walk. These are just a couple pics from our time with Mom.

And now my dear friends, we are going to be gone on a long weekend for our anniversary. This is my favorite weekend out of the whole year because the kid's grandparents generously watch them for us, and we are free to do as much or as little as we choose. I am excited! So, as of Friday, we will be free as the eagles, loose as the goose, dancing like the stars.... OR we might just be hiding out somewhere with our phones turned off *sigh*. Life is good.

Counting Blessings

Yesterday a lot of things worked out better than I had hoped. First of all, it turns out that our insurance company covers about 97% of all car fires SO we may not have to go into a new car with old unfinished carpayments attached. YEAH! I was so mad because I always pay extra on any payments to keep from going into an upsidedown loan and the absolute injustice of being forced into one because my car decided to go down in a blazing glory was very upsetting (for once, please spare me this growing pain!). On top of that, the insurance company ALSO pays half for a car rental, so I am no longer stranded and in a couple minutes Kloe and I are rolling out for Plains to see my Mom until tomorrow *happy sigh*.


Yesterday WAS hectic. We are trying to figure out what kind of car we want so we've been to every dealership in Missoula. I am not much help, cars are not really my deal. I am committed to not forcing Derrick into another purple, teal or pink car (I chose the colors of all of our last cars and poor Derrick got to feel all manly driving them), so I am think something more conservative (anything but white or red). On top of looking for cars, I was preparing a talk to give at meeting last night and I was nearly dying from nervousness. Fortunately I survived giving it last night, and everyone said I didn't look nervous at all. I was happy about that, because even if I AM nervous, as long as I look composed, success has been had.

Purple Bomb Destroyed

My car caught on fire today. Kathrine and I were driving to the Mustard Seed (my favorite restaurant, even though the service usually stinks) when I started smelling a strange hot smell. Now, I have experience with overheating cars because one of my first cars was a chrysler lazer that overheated regularly at pretty much every stop light. I know how to deal with your standard overheated car. I knew this was a far more menacing smell because I have also had the opportunity of being in a car and realizing that the motor is on fire (about 8 years ago between Missoula and Plains. I actually had to hitchhike the rest of the way home with a strange man, because that was before I owned a cell phone... but I digress) and the hot wire stench hit a familiar nerve. I swerved off the road and into a Sinclair station. In hindsight, I probably should not have parked my burning car in front of the propane tanks, but in desperate times sometimes the details get ignored. After opening the hood and realizing yes, it is on fire, I ran inside and excitably shouted,"My car is on fire!!!" to the attendants there. All I heard was quiet and crickets. So, I attempted shouting again, hoping to arouse more of a response,"MY CAR IS ON FIRE!!! DO YOU HAVE A FIRE EXTINGUISHER?!?!?!?"

They slowly leaned over and looked out the window,"Yep... her car is really on fire... well... um...."

"DO YOU HAVE A BUCKET!!!!!!ANYTHING!!!!"

"Uh..."

My eyelids were starting to twitch. The flames were leaping noticably higher and yet the man I was following to look for a bucket was in slow motion. He found the bucket, but apparantly their water pressure was on the sub-par side, because all that was coming out was a trickle. It took a good 60 seconds to get it about a quarter full. I pulled the still filling bucket from his hands and ran out the door, him following behind, I think mainly from the curiousity of seeing how mangled and burned I would get from my endeavors. I threw the miniscule amount of water on the leaping flames and was delighted to see it was pretty effective. To his credit, the attendant (who was a burly and capable looking fellow, the sort one might expect to rescue a damsel such as myself) went back inside to grab some more water. Apparantly he found a faucet in better working order, because it didn't take nearly as long and he came back with a FULL bucket this time. I sprinkled the water around the flames, getting a little closer and being even more effective because I no longer expected either the flames to leap back into my face OR the car to blow up. A mechanic meandered over from the neighboring car shop. His brilliant kick in the stomach went something like,"Yall should have let it burn! It would've been totalled but now this baby is going to need a LOT of tlc..."Which is to say,"This sucker is going to COST you". My brilliant manuvering to save my car had actually been the wrong move! And it was too wet to start on fire again *grr*... On the bright side, if I had let it burn, the propane tanks might have exploded, causing more expensive damage than a burnt up engine.

So, now the car has been towed away. Derrick took care of the details, and picked me up and now I am at home and I am wondering.... does anyone need a new car because I know where an AWESOME one is for cheap!

Jug of Love

Next week marks our 7th wedding anniversary. This time of year always makes me think of our 1st anniversary. It was the hard one. Really, the whole first year was the hardest of our married life.

My mental state was not the best from the start. I was on birth control pills which made me, let's say, emotionally unpredictable. It also made me gain a lot of weight, which I had never experienced before, and I was NOT enjoying it. All of a sudden I no longer felt like myself, either in body, mind or even in name.

Three months later we were pregnant. Just like that. Turns out it is VERY important to take the pill at the same time every day (and actually take them everyday. They aren't kidding about that). Add to that bad job situations for the both of us, and we found ourselves in a miserable inferno neither of us had expected in our wildest dreams when we said "I do". He felt like he had married a stranger, not the person he'd known for the last three years. I was so angry, so upset most of the time. I felt abandoned because he was staying away from me more and more. We made it through summer and into fall, just barely holding on. Then September hit and bad went to worse.

I got really sick with preeclampsia and the only way to save my life was to take our baby out three months early. We found ourselves in a NICU, both of us watching our son struggle for every breath, not knowing if we would lose him or not. We lived in a limbo for the next couple months, living part time at home, part time with Derrin at the hospital. That is where our lives found us that first anniversary.

We ate dinner at Applebee's December 11th , barely able to afford even that. But it was the first time we really talked about how things were now, how we would rather them be, and how we could change them. I knew we would be okay after that talk.

That night I brought out an old wine jar I'd been saving , and we decided that we would always put our loose change and any dollars we could spare in it, so that we would always be able to afford to make our anniversary special. Seven years later, the wine bottle may not be as essential for making sure we can go somewhere and do something, but it does serve as a reminder throughout the year that we do have a special relationship that deserves to be celebrated.

Growing Pains

When Derrick and I first got married, our big plan was to stay simple, save our pennies and eventually blow this place, go to Europe and just hike or ride bikes to whatever exotic country our hearts would lead us to. Three months later a certain test came back positive and our plans had to change. That is life. The only thing constant is change, and we've learned to roll with our fair share of punches.

Before I got married my instinct was to shy away from unpleasantness, to take the easy way out card. Being married and having kids seems to make that card not so available. Hard times have forced us to grow and I've found out something : Growing as a person, a lot of the time, hurts (thus the term "growing pains"). It hurts because sometimes it's caused by slamming doors you never thought would close, forcing you to find a new route. It hurts because it springs from bad things that happen to you for no reason at all, and it isn't fair, but you still have to summon the strength to get through it. It hurts because sometimes it comes out of bad choices we've made causing us draw up the strength to survive the consequences. It is hard, because sometimes it's caused by sticking to a situation, a place, a relationship even when things are rocky, uncomfortable or even just boring, and wading through, enduring and choosing to make it better right where you are. Sometimes it hurts because you've had to learn there are some situations you cannot fix and you have to let go.

Life doesn't seem to let us off the hook very easily. Even though I hate the middle part of growing, the painful part, I love the end result because I know more about me, and if I did well on the way through, I learn to respect and like myself more. Or if it is something Derrick and I are working through together, and we do well, we learn to respect and trust eachother and the relationship more. Even if it comes from a bad move on my part, as long as I can handle it with honesty and grace in the reprocusion stage, I can look back and see ultimately I made the decision to make good on a bad choice, and I know that takes strength. These are the moments in time we define or refine who we are and what we are going to stand for.

It is a cliche, but no matter where you go, there you are. As long as I'm okay inside, I can wait for Europe

And WHERE is the off Switch???

It is currently 4:15 in the morning and I've been up for awhile. Don't know what the problem is because I am SO FREAKING TIRED!!! Deep breaths, deep breaths. The last time I talked to Derrick (who is sleeping like an angel) about insomnia, he gave me a rundown of his idea of how to fix it (for free no less). The fix was that I needed to get involved in some heavy manual labor (like being a logger or working on a fishing boat in Alaska?) because if I was tired enough I would pass out at the end of everyday like he does. He is completely correct, in my opinion (however, it is 4:22 at night and I could be delusional). HE works outside everyday, whether it is freezing or boiling. I've watched him work, practically running (he is VERY efficient with his time), getting the job DONE. He goes from meeting to meeting with different business associates, so he has to deal with social stress that I mostly am spared from these days.

My day is tiring, but more mentally then anything. I'm chasing kids down, breaking up fights, cleaning up play-dough that is stuck to the counter chairs again, sweeping and mopping the same floors that were mopped yesterday because someone didn't want to take the time to remove their shoes, making breakfast, lunch, dinner and cleaning the kitchen as many times, getting groceries, paying bills, making beds, making kids clean their rooms (even though it would be easier to do it myself), feeling the general guilt that I should be returning a phone call to a friend (but I just don't have the mental energy to chat), taking the kids outside more to play,or reading more to them or not letting them watch so many cartoons, or that I should be (that I want to be) with my mom but I just can't because I need to be here managing my life too.... The problem with a mentally tiring life is that it wakes you up at 3 o'clock in the morning, all the emotions of the day racing through your veins like a freight train, leaving your heart racing before you even fully awake.

It will get better. So.... deep breaths, deep breaths...

Kitty Evolutions at Midnight

It is currently 12:03 am, and my body (or mind, not sure which one) hates me and is refusing to let me sleep, yet again. I was lodged in bed between Derrick and Gary when I realized Gary and I had been having a silent staredown for quite some time and it was getting a little ridiculous for me to just lay there and be angry about not sleeping. Gary was thrilled when I got up because apparantly his gazing eyes had been trying (quite successfully) to send his mind signals into my brain that he needed to go outside to do his business.

While I was laying there staring at my kitty, I started to think about how he is not half as irritating as he used to be. When we first got him (about 14 months ago) he loved to jump on the bed in the middle of the night, come right up to my face, and sneeze. He hardly ever does that anymore. So seldom does it happen that I have lost my gunshy flinch when I hear little kitty feet padding near my face. He also doesn't wander aimlessly at night, complaining loudly about his general unhappiness in life. Many nights spent in a cold garage have taught him to repress his emotions, just like the rest of us. Really he is pretty patient too, especially with the kids who haul him around all day like their hairy love child. Someday I am going to have to show Kloe the joy of dressing him in baby clothes. It was one of my favorite things to do as a kid, and it will be especially funny with Gary. He is like a grumpy but tolerant old man who always gets an "oh crap" look on his face when the kids come alookin for him. I can just imagine his anxiety when the little onsies and jammies with holes cut out for the tail come at him... heheh...

Well, I had hoped I'd beable to prattle on for awhile longer until sleep overtook me, but I'm afraid that my mind IS tired, just not willing to sleep. Hope for me, my friends... hope for sweet sweet sleep to knock my brains out!