The MRI

I've had this cranky pain in my neck for about, oh.... a year or so now. At some point I sprained my trapezius and went to physical therapy for that. Which led me to finally realize that my neck was really bad and I needed to do something about it. I went and got an x-ray, which was negative, so the doctor suggested an MRI. He also said that based on the 413 knots in the muscles of my neck that I need to go back to physical therapy. I don't know how said knots got there, but I'm pretty sure that toting the Barnacle around all the time is not helping them any.

Now I was pretty sure that I'd had an MRI before, and stuff like this doesn't bother me so long as no one pokes me with pointy things. I'm also not claustrophobic in the least, so I wasn't worried.

As it turns out, the MRI I thought I had of my sinuses a few years ago was actually a CT Scan, because what they did today was totally different. Appparently MRI stands for Mortuary Resting & iTunes, because they stuff you in a coffin to relax with headphones on. It's an odd experience. Once they slide you into your tight little casket you are informed that you cannot move, which is right about when your nose begins to itch. You forget that fairly quickly though, as they begin jackhammering around your head. At first you think there's been a mistake, as no one warned you that there was construction going on. You think about asking someone, but are pretty sure no one will hear your screams over the thunderous noise.

It lasted about twenty minutes and then I was resurrected from my tomb. When I sat up from the table I felt like I was getting off the merry-go-round. There is something that my sinuses do not like about loud noise and vibration, because either tends to make me dizzy. (And my aversion to super loud music has nothing to do with getting old, no matter what the Man says.)

Hopefully should have some answers on Monday. In the meantime, I'm so happy it's Friday! Can someone inform my children that they are all required to sleep in tomorrow? Thanks!

National Alcohol Screening Day

Today, as the title implies, is National Alcohol Screening Day, or as I would have called it 10 years ago, I Am Not An Alcoholic Because I Only Drink Beer Day. Funny how the mind works, as I remember having quite the odd conversation about alcoholism back when the Man and I were still just friends. Several of my girlfriends were concerned, and appointed him to be The One who would speak to me about this. I thought it was utterly ridiculous that they really thought that someone could be an alcoholic when they didn't drink any of the 'hard stuff'. Amateurs.

Illogical reasoning aside, I eventually moved from beer to harder stuff anyway, and my last drink was wine. My last drunk was at a Memorial Day party, where I drank two bottles of wine. And of course that meant the big 3 liter bottles. The Man wanted to go home after a while, and I didn't, so he took the Princess and left me there. I thought he was being a stick in the mud. Looking back later, I could see my behavior in a more truthful light, and how I willfully chose to stay and continue to drink rather than go home with my family. I don't even remember how I got home that night.

All I can say to that is thank God I don't have to live that way anymore.

Night Shift

The Man went back on night shift yesterday. It's a good thing (money-wise) but it's also a hard thing (sanity-wise). We will now not see very much of each other during the week, and I will be back to single-mama duty for bedtime. This job is only a week though, so we aren't sure if he'll be back to days next week. There's another night job coming up that they may roll right into, so we'll see. They don't tend to tell him until the. last. minute.

Nothing else going on, except that I'm very happy with the banner I made for up top. I know, we're heading into spring, and yet there are autumn leaves on the trees. But it made me happy.

Ah Winter, I hardly knew ye!

Much to my chagrin, winter is pretty much over. Anyone who knows me knows that I love the winter-time, and look forward to wearing heavy sweaters and snow boots. Alas, this winter is fading and I don't think I got to wear my snow boots more than once. We have been cheated! Boo! I am thankful though, that the kids did get that one good snow day where the Man could take them sledding. :) And the wonderful trade-off of losing my favorite season, is that soon it will be warm enough for camping.

Didn't sleep well last night, or any recent night really. I can't seem to turn my brain off for some reason. So today is a caffeine day for sure.

So it's Monday, and I'm puttering. Got some things done around the house, and then was quite surprised to see the Man walk in the door before noon! Apparently he is starting night shift tonight, and no one told him. So he is sleeping now, and will have to make that fun time adjustment on very short notice. We aren't complaining though, because night shift is very good money. Thank you Lord for always providing!

The Barnacle is sick yet again, so he's needing a lot of cuddling and tissues. Not much more to say about that, as it's been our swan song all winter really. I guess that can be my other silver lining to the end of winter; hopefully his lungs will finally clear up.

A love like Johnny & June

I was driving my son to school this afternoon and I heard this song on the radio by Heidi Newfield (originally from Trick Pony) about Johnny & June Cash.

I wanna love like Johnny and June,
Rings of fire burnin' with you,
I wanna walk the line, Walk the line,
'Till the end of time,
I wanna love, Love ya that much,
Cash it all in, Give it all up,
When you're gone,
I wanna go too, Like Johnny and June

And it kinda gave me pause, and I thought really? That's the kind of love you want? I suppose if you only look at the end of the story, and not the beginning, they definitely had a love worth admiring. But the painful journey it took to get them there is something that we shouldn't glamourize, even if Walk the Line was an incredible movie. Adultery, addiction, divorce... these are not things we should have to go through to find true love. And I know that I don't want my kids to look back at the life I lived and envy any part of how I lived.


I remember being challenged once by a friend who said he could outdrink me. I knew he couldn't, even though he had me by probably 5 inches and 70 or so pounds. So one night we were having a party and he matched me beer for beer for the whole night. I clearly remember at the end of the night, standing over his passed out form on the living room floor, while I finished the beer I had and opened another. For a long time in my early sobriety I had to remind myself that this was not behavior worth bragging about. I should never be proud of how much I used to be able to drink. It was something the Man had to deal with too, because he had an odd sense of pride over it too.

I can't say I care for that last line of the song, about wanting to die when our spouse dies. I love my husband, but I wouldn't want to die if he died. As much as I love him, my husband is not my reason for living. Jesus Christ is my reason for living, and as long as I am able to serve Him, that is where my worth comes from, not from being a wife.

Old Me Vs. New Me

Hmm... a week since my last blog. Proof that I have a life outside of my laptop! Or, that I just have nothing interesting to say. Harumph.

I've been trying to get back in gear with Step 9. I've been talking to my sponsor a lot in the last day or two about a specific one that I am struggling with. It's to a person from my past that I had strong feelings about, and I am quite honestly afraid to contact them. I know that I have to do this, but making yourself vulnerable in this way to someone you have not seen in about 13 years is overwhelming. Thinking back to who you used to be, and really digging into what you did to harm other people is prickly business. I have to be fair, but to do so requires that Rigorous Honesty that follows me around wherever I go, pesky thing.

I got out my old diaries and letters from that time period, and found memories I had conveniently let go of. I don't recognize myself in a lot of my writing. I am so foreign to myself now. Sadly much of that comes from the fact that I was a wretched liar in those days, and would stretch things to accomodate my own purposes. I made up a lot of things in order to get the sympathy or attention that I desperately craved. It's not a pretty picture to think about, and I certainly can't say I'm enjoying the process.

I was in therapy once years ago and the doctor asked me to do an exercise where I sat in a chair and spoke with the old 'me' from college. I fell apart trying to have that 'conversation'. I knew that the Old Me would hate the New Me, and quite frankly, the New Me sure wasn't really fond of the Old Me either. It was very painful, and I don't know that it accomplished much in the end. I was able to look at my previous life, and the choices I made, and see how utterly sick and dysfunctional I was. But I was unable to really 'talk' to the Old Me, because I knew that Old Me would have told New Me to go pound sand.

I know that this journey is not always supposed to be easy. I am thankful that God comes with me on it though. If I could just learn to stop treating him like my co-pilot, and just let Him take over, things would go a lot more smoothly for me.

Lily Faith

Had a mostly boring day today, but I got in an ANGRY funk after I picked the kids up from school. Was just one stupid thing after another, clingy baby yelling while I tried to cook, kids leaving their school bags and junk all over the floor of the breakfast room.... nothing major, just got me mad. But good little girl that I am, I called my sponsor to check in. She very astutely made the connection that I had been on a relaxing 'vacation' last week, and that since I've gotten home it's been non-stop responsibility and stuff going on. I hadn't thought of it that way, but she was right on the money. Had a birthday party for the Boy, had single-mom duty all day for Easter festivities since the Man was home sick as a dog, blah blah blah busy busy busy, and suddenly today I'm blowing a gasket over nothing major. This is why I love my sponsor, she has a gift for putting things into perspective.

At my meeting tonight I also thought of something else that was creeping up in the corners of my mind today..... tomorrow is the seventh anniversary of my miscarriage. It stirs up a variety of emotions, some bad, some actually good. Losing Lily was a catalyst for a lot of positive things in my life, the first being my sobriety. God used that loss to bring me to my knees, and I got sober two months later. The story is long, because I don't really know how to tell stories that are short. I won't try to tell it all now, as I've written it out many times before and don't feel the need to do that tonight. It was one of the most traumatic events of my life, and I know that anniversaries have a way of pulling things to the surface. But, God is SO good, and He has given me such peace and comfort over the years. I am so grateful, even in the face of loss. He always gives me beauty for ashes.

Clayton's Desk

It's a lovely morning and I'm sitting with my second cuppa whilst I dream of a room all my own. I can't remember if I've talked about my room or not, but I like to gabble about it. I have many hopes and dreams for that little room. Currently it is mostly the nursery, where the Barnacle and his mountains of clothes are housed. (I counted his pants at one point and he had like 39 pairs of pants. It's ridiculous.)(No, I don't shop too much, they are 99% hand-me-downs.) It is also where my desk is. And when you read the words 'my desk' you need to accompany them in your mind with trumpets and angelic voices. It is thee most fantastic desk and I love it.

It's old and worn and stained, and came from my step-grandfather, a man I only knew for a short time, but truly adored. I have great plans to write my novel at this desk. However, it being in the nursery presents the problem. I can really only write with some semblance of peace and quiet, and I can only get that semblance when the baby is asleep.... but of course he sleeps in that room. So for now I must write on my lap in the living room, which is hardly a romantic or quiet spot but will have to do until the Barnacle is old enough to share a room with his brother upstairs.

So for now the desk has piles of stuff on it, and laundry to be put away, and so forth. It will remain my great treasure for now, waiting to be used and adored. The room itself will develop around the desk when the time comes. My sister bought me thee cutest wallpaper border to use someday - red bandanas! Oh it makes a cowgirl's heart sing. I also have my sewing table in there, and some Rubbermaids full of fabrics and projects. When we were clearing out my grandmother's house last summer I found some quilting projects she had started, and I carefully saved every little vintage scrap of fabric she had cut out. I'll have to blog about that at some point, as the fabrics are really amazing.

I'm also giving thought to what I will call the room when it's all mine. It won't be the nursery anymore, but I don't want to be lame and just call it My Office. It will also be a Sewing Room, so an office title wouldn't work. I'll have to think about it. I certainly have the time!

Celebrating Resurrection Day

Oh prepare my dears, I was in a funk today. Feel free to stop reading now before I ruin your good mood.

The day started with a night of not-so-great-sleep for our household, with a fretful babe who had to cry it out, and a husband throwing up. I got the better end of the deal with the beginning of a head cold that has left me foggy and raw. My poor Man however, stayed pretty green for most of the day, so the Easter celebrations went on without him. The Princess & the Boy were up at 5am (according to the very sick Man) and came to ask me if they could look for eggs at 7am. And bad mother that I am today, I told them to go for it and put my pillow over my head and went back to sleep. I did finally pry myself loose though, and got up and even fed them, though I'm certain they were quite stuffed with chocolate by then. I took the kids and went to church, wanting to get there early to get seats before all the Chreasters take them. And yes, I called them Chreasters, and yes I am aware that it's rude and disrespectful and clearly I need to work on my attitude to the poor souls who only come to church on Christmas & Easter. But having to sit next to a teenage girl who huffed and sighed and snapped her gum and flipped her hair on me through the entire 60 minutes grated on my ever lovin' last nerve.

I so wanted to enjoy the service this morning, and celebrate the resurrection of my Savior. I had quite the internal dialogue going for most of the morning, wanting to rejoice, but wanting to stew, and confessing and repenting of my grumpy attitude at least 17 times. I knew I was being childish and I'm sorry for it. I just need to get over it, I know! I just was bummed that the Man was sick and I felt like crap. And I realized at one point that I had not had ANY coffee this morning and that I had set myself up for disaster! I won't make that mistake again! The music was very lovely, with the children's choirs, senior choir and signing choir all performing their pieces. The Hallelujah Chorus always makes me tear up, as did the final hymn, 'Because He Lives'. When we sing that final line about one day crossing the river and meeting Jesus.... well, I just about can't stand that we have to wait a lifetime to do it. How blessed we are in Him.

The second half of the day was (yet another) egg hunt and then dinner with the Man's family. I was sad he couldn't come with us, but I did pack up a HUGE plate of food to bring home to him. Hopefully he can eat it tomorrow once he stops praying for death. I enjoy visiting with my in-laws and the cousins had a fine time tearing around the house together and bowling on the Wii. The Barnacle really liked the hors d'oeuvres, daintily sampling each one and then carefully placing the warm and chewed food back in the dish. He is simply beyond charming no matter what he does really.

Rejoice! He is risen!

Home again home again jiggity jig

Or is it jiggity jog? I can't remember. Well either way, I'm glad to be home! I had a lovely week at my sister's home in Virginia. It's quite odd to see the baby of the family as a grown woman with her own home.

The drive is over 400 miles but can take 8-10 hours depending on traffic, since you have to go past some major cities. (We chose a different way home that added more miles but avoided the cities, and it was definitely the right choice for the Friday of a holiday weekend!) The initial trip was mostly uneventful, save one very hilarious moment. As we were passing by Philadelphia we came upon some small traffic cones. There were two of them laying in the road, and one was unavoidable. I hit it and we heard it rumble through under us. I could see it in my mirrors and was thankful that it hadn't caused damage or an accident. Over an hour later we stopped at a rest area in Maryland. When we were ready to leave, I backed out of my parking space and heard a thumping noise. I paused to look but couldn't see anything, so I put the van in drive and moved forward, whereupon what should I see in my mirror but the sad little traffic cone, kidnapped from his hometown and left forlorn in the parking lot in Maryland. We don't know where exactly he was stowed away for those 70 or 80 miles, but we certainly had a good laugh over it.

The one year olds were beyond entertaining, and at all hours nonetheless. We all bid farewell to sleep at the beginning of the week, as one or the other got up screeching every night. That's the silver lining of ending a trip with family. As hard as it was to kiss my sister goodbye, I did look forward to sleeping in my own bed again, with the Barnacle tucked away in his own crib in a separate room. Of course, he protested this greatly last night, so he wasn't quite as thrilled as I to be back home I suppose. His big brother also joined in, having a bad dream and needing consolation in the wee hours. I gave up sleep for Lent though, so it worked out just fine.


My sister and I stayed up late talking or playing Rummikub with our father. We ate too much food and laughed over too many ridiculous things and just enjoyed each other's company as intensely as we could in our little visit. I am so glad I was able to go, and thanked God repeatedly for our safe travel. The journey is a long one but the children tolerated it well. The Barnacle didn't revolt against it until the final hour of the drive home, during which he wailed nearly without interruption. But overall it couldn't have gone much more smoothly.


Gratuitous picture of my niece, napping under the quilt that her favorite aunt made for her: