Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween! 

My house smells like a harvest carnival! I got two new Scentsy warmers and I'm burning a new scent, Mandarin Moon, and it smells like I've walked into a craft fair! Mmmmm, I love that smell! Oranges and spice, doesn't get any better for a nice fall smell! Makes me want to bake something. But, I probably won't. However, I did make Mexican Chicken Zucchini Cheese Soup last night and I'm taking the leftovers to Mom's later. 

These are from the new Lampshade line and they are downright gorgeous! I love them and the soft glow they emit. 

And in the honor of all witches and sorcerers, I'm going to spend the day watching Harry Potter and listening to Rocco jabber until it's time to load him up and head into town for Halloween pictures. I can't wait to see how they turn out!

And just for a little Halloween fright, here's a picture I saw yesterday. 

What the heck? I'm assuming this is not a Halloween picture, but I'm not sure what it is. Maybe protection from dust???

Walking in love

I have had a somewhat trying week and "The Love Walk" has really been on my mind and in my heart more than it usually is. Do we really know what it means to walk in love? Is it possible to always walk in love? Do we desire to walk in love? Can we have a disagreement and continue to walk in love?

I think that, for many of us, walking in love is a concept that we think we understand, but the reality is that we often times allow our human side, our flesh, to prevent us from executing that walk. I think there are many facets to walking in love and probably the most common one we hear is to turn the other cheek. And it's such a hard thing to do! Especially when someone has hurt you, wounded you, or zinged you. We want to immediately retaliate with our own barrage of verbal garbage to make them hurt in the same way we do. Misery loves company, right?

I was listening to Focus on the Family this morning and Anne Graham Lotz shared a story of how she once had a small dog that was accidentally run over by a car. When she ran to the poor animal, the first thing he did was bite her. She scooped him up and took him to the vet and she later asked her mother, "Why did he bite me?" Her mother told her that it doesn't matter whether it's a four-legged or two-legged animal, the first thing one wants to do when they're in pain is to lash out. And I think it's important to recognize that because Anne loved the animal, she overlooked the bite and did what was right, anyway. How awesome would this world be if more people applied that to their dealings with other humans?

So, how do we turn the other cheek and walk in love? Is it possible to calmly say, "You have hurt me by doing/saying _____," and not lash out at that person? Of course it is, but it takes a conscious effort and it requires the courage to face the person who hurt you, knowing that you've probably hurt them, too, and you will have to deal with that, as well. You have to deny your flesh the desire to lash out, call names, or make threats and snide comments. You have to control your words, your actions, and your tone of voice. You have to remember that lashing out is just a way of getting even, it won't solve the problem, and will more than likely make the situation worse. You have to be willing to listen without trying to talk over the other person or get the last word in. That's what children do and isn't the point of growing to get past all of that adolescent behavior? Be willing to hear and consider the other side of the story. Be willing to consider that you might be (gasp!) wrong and you might be (bigger gasp!) the one causing the problem. Perhaps, before we speak, we should ask ourselves, "Will my words help or hurt the situation or will they just make my flesh feel better?"

If I'm turning the other cheek, maybe my best course of action is to not speak or respond at all. Why risk an emotional reaction that you can't retract? Your flesh might tell you, "It has to be said," but, does it really? And if it does need to be said, is it walking in love to have a hateful, overbearing, accusatory, exasperated, snippy, holier-than-thou tone of voice or attitude? Another story that Anne Graham Lotz told today was that of Jesus, being falsely accused and not defending himself and not lashing out at his accusers. 

1 Peter 2:23 

He did not retaliate when he was insulted, nor threaten revenge when he suffered. He left his case in the hands of God, who always judges fairly.

"But, that was Jesus!" you say. If you're a Christian, don't you desire to have the heart of Jesus? Don't you desire to be more Christ-like? So, don't you at least want to try to walk in love as He did?

I try to work on all of these things in my own life and some days I have more practice subjects than others. Haha! I fall short of the glory of God every day. But, I get back up and try again, confessing and seeking forgiveness and, as I've said before, I have much room to grow. I think we could all use less bitterness, more forgiveness, less self-righteousness, more tolerance, less hate, and more love in our lives. And like everything else, walking in love is a choice we each have to make. 

You can listen to Focus on the Family's program online at www.focusonthefamily.com. 

An Affair of the Heart

Another year of tradition is in the books! Nana, Loren, Rocco, and I survived another trek to the Affair of the Heart in Oklahoma City! We have gone every year for seven or eight years, always on Sunday, and we make a girls trip out of it. This year, of course, was Rocco's first trip and even though he isn't a girl, we allowed him to tag along.

Mom and I got an early start so we could pick up Loren and we even had enough time to stop at Pops! in Arcadia and have breakfast. It was the first time Mom and I had eaten there or even been inside the store. I've driven by it a few times, but never stopped. Before we got there Loren told us all about the bottles of soda on the wall and all of the flavors available. The breakfast was good and no, we didn't have any soda. I had the three eggs meal with breakfast potatoes and wheat toast. It was really good, but I have to rave about the bread. It was dense and chewy and delicious! I used it to sop up my eggs over easy.

At night the "bottle" changes colors. 

He was all bundled up so we could wait in line to get in. He loves the stroller, but only if it's moving, he doesn't like to sit still. He gets that from Nana. 

We always start at the "Made in Oklahoma" building. During the state fair everything in this building is ...... duh, made in Oklahoma, as the name indicates. But, I don't think that definition applies during AAOTH. 

Photos and videos are not allowed at AAOTH, boo, but I understand why. So, I couldn't take pictures of all of the cute things there were to buy, but I'll share a couple of pictures of what I did buy. I'm not one of those shopaholic-gotta-have-everything kind of gals. When we go to AAOTH I usually go to look for home décor, kitchen items, food, and smell-good stuff. This year I added "baby stuff" to my list.

This is "Sheriff Wild Bill Hitchcock", an animated movie and book written by a fellow Okie, Matthew Coury. This is from Character Tales and is a story of sacrifice vs. selfishness. As their website says, "Character Tales is our way to encourage others to build strong Christian Character in their lives." The author's parents believed in his project so much that they used their life savings to produce the DVD, print the book (in the US), make T-shirts, posters, whistles, slingshots, bows and arrows, and swords. This story takes place in a chicken town where the sheriff is very selfish and he has to learn how to serve others. I love stories like this! We have to plant these seeds in our children early. Rocco, of course, is too small to understand, but I'll be ready as he grows.  I know some adults who could probably benefit from this story, too. To order your own, go to www.charactertales.com.

I also bought this cross. I fell in love with it immediately and I actually bought two, the other one is slightly different. I love the cow hide and the stars on it. Stars and crosses are a common motif throughout our house. I bought this one for Rocco's room and I haven't decided where to put the other one, yet. I bought this from C&G Gifts & Collectibles from Wylie, TX. They can be contacted at (214)502-0326 if you'd like one of your own. 

Here it is in place. 

And since we're looking at nursery pics, check this out:

I am still in love with this light! It is beautiful!

The Tipsy Artist

On Friday night D and I had a rare date, a delayed celebration of our 10th anniversary. I told him I wanted to go to a Tipsy Artist party and since it was for 10 years, after all, he said okay.

We were welcomed by the Tipsy Paint Fairy, Missy. I love her wings. I need a pair of those. The Tipsy Artist is a studio in Guthrie where you replicate a painting by the studio owner, Tiffany. 

Here she is!

 

I have painted walls and trim, but I've never taken an art class or painted a painting in my life! And neither has D, for that matter. So, this was really a step outside of our box. We took our own meal and drinks, as instructed on the website and settled in for a couple of hours of new fun!

This is the painting we were going to replicate, the "Fall in Love Tree". Get it? Fall because it's ..... wait for it ..... fall. And love because of the heart. I really had my doubts about how this would turn out, but the instructions were very easy to follow. We used a template for the heart and a ruler to make a couple of dashes to make the tree trunk, but everything else was free hand. We took a break about halfway through so the background could dry and we walked across the street to Rick's Coffees and had a bite of chocolate. I can control myself at a candy counter and only have one or two bites, but I can't control myself with a bag of chocolate at home!

 

My dude is really looking artistic!

 

I was a little messy and managed to get some paint on me. 

We sat across from each other so that we couldn't see what the other one was doing until the end. 

 

But, I peeked at the backside of his. 

 

And here's his finished product! It totally looks like something he would do! I love his artistic interpretation and I love the "Dr. Seuss" effect he's channeling. It's so whimsical!

 

And here's mine. My tree was really big! 

 

And I love this one! Look at all of the color!

 

And this is Mary. She was celebrating her 29th birthday. I love the blue!

 

And check this one out! Wowza!

I loved all of the different interpretations! This was one of the best dates we've ever had and we will definitely be going back! D was a little hesitant when I first asked him to go, but at the end of the night he said it was a lot of fun and he'd go back anytime. You can find a calendar of events on the Tipsy Artist website http://www.tipsyartist.com. 

My prayer for the day

Sometimes I think The Lord places people in our lives who are the mirror image of the person we used to be, the person we aren't proud of, the person we desire to be rid of, that person that we no longer want to be. And I think he allows us to be in situations like this to humble us, to see what it is that others had to deal with, to see how far we've come and still have to go, to help us grow in character and in our walk with Him, and to allow us to now be a blessing to that person.

If you are a person with any kind of self awareness, you are probably a person who wants to grow in character, whether you're a Christian or not. I think most of us desire to be a better person. There was a time when our petty, selfish behavior could be chalked up to being young and dumb and people would allow you some growing room because they realized that you were, in fact, still growing. However, there comes a time when the young and dumb excuse has to be thrown out the window and we all have to be held accountable for our actions and words. 

I have said many times that I'm not proud of the person I used to be. I was abused by my mother's ex-husband, my heart had been hardened and I used that as an excuse to not forgive others, to lash out or be boastful and prideful and I definitely did not have a filter on my mouth. I was brash and bitter and many times I was just downright rude. I hurt others and I did things that I knew were morally wrong. My poor choices and lack of a relationship with God, even though I had been saved, finally led me to a place where I had to ask myself, "How did I get here?" And when it came right down to it, I was the one who led me to that point in life. I was the one who wasn't walking with God, not the other way around. 

And now, there are people in my life who behave as I did. AND IT DRIVES ME NUTS! It is a true test of my patience and my faith to deal with the lies, the false accusations, the drama, the stress, and the heartache that these people cause me. And because I am an immature Christian, meaning that I have much room to grow, all I can do is pray for these people because I feel like talking to them is like beating my head against a wall. I want to do more, but I realize that they aren't ready to hear or accept that. We each have a testimony so we can help others who are walking the same walk. However, when a person is too blind or prideful or whatever to recognize what is holding them back and they have no desire to change, there is little else to do other than to pray for them and to pray for yourself in your dealings with them.

Lord, I come to you now to pray for individuals with a hardened heart, whether they realize they have one or not and I pray that You use my actions and words in an appropriate way that would glorify You and bless others, keep me humble and compassionate, let Your light shine out of my fingers and toes, each strand of hair, and the words of my mouth. I lift these people up to You, for You to bless their lives, and I pray that their hearts be open to receive the blessings and corrections of You. I pray that they have a desire to know You, our Mighty God. I pray that Your grace, mercy, and forgiveness be extended to each of us and that we extend it to others. In Your most holy name, Amen. 

I am living a fabulous life!

There are days when I feel like I'm really failing as a parent. Days when my son has been screaming for six hours straight because his gums hurt and nothing consoles him and he ends up getting so worked up that he pukes all over both of us. He wants to be held so that he can look around, but he doesn't want me to sit. I have to stand because if I sit sown in the chair, he screams. He strains and kicks and wallers (that's an Okie term) around until every muscle in my body is also screaming at me. I rub his gums, he screams. I use Orajel, he screams. I don't rub his gums, he screams. I give him gas drops, he screams. I don't give him gas drops, he screams. I feed him, he screams  I don't feed him, he screams. You get the gist of it. 

He's not always that way, he wakes up like the sunshine every morning, babbling to himself, laughing, and eating his feet, and he's usually happy throughout the day. He plays with his hair while he drinks a bottle and makes faces when I feed him veggies. He plays in his jumperoo or activity seat, scoots around on his tummy as he learns how to crawl, and blows bubbles and jabbers all day long and we spend most of our time laughing at him. 

But, it's times like tonight, when I am frustrated and exhausted, that a nasty little voice bubbles it's way up from some deep, dark, secret place and finds it's way into my ear and says, "You are not a very good Mommy. You're child is screaming and hurting and you can't even figure out what's wrong. A good Mommy would know how to console her child when he's upset. AND what's worse, you're frustrated with him! A good mommy wouldn't feel that way." And it's all I can do to tell that voice to shut up. But, lucky for me, my son can scream loud enough to drown out any cognitive thoughts I may have. But, there is something unnerving about not being able to console your child while he's looking at you with a pitiful expression and he seems to be saying, "Why aren't you helping me?"

Thankfully, my husband is an excellent father, and when I am no longer firing on all eight cylinders and my eyes have glossed over and rolled back into my head, his care makes up for my shortcomings. He's there to tag team the tiny fighter and he taps himself into the ring for his turn. I know there are times that he's just as frustrated and exhausted as I am, and I suppose that's just part of parenting. I am very thankful that The Lord gave me a good man who's also a great husband and father. I don't think I could do it without him. 

And this brings me to my random thought of the day, which is something that came to me after a somewhat nasty encounter with a jealous individual. I do not lead a glamorous life. But, I lead a fabulous life because I choose to view it that way. I choose to not let days like today get me down (too much) and I choose to look at what I have to be thankful for instead of what I have to complain about. Does my son wear me out sometimes? Yes. But, I love him and I wouldn't trade him for anything. He is a blessing to us, no matter how much he cries. One minute of morning snuggles makes Mommy feel all better. We have good jobs that pay our bills, put food on our table, gas in our vehicles, clothes on our back, and a roof over our head. I have a man who loves me for me and I love him for him. I don't care about his flaws because I'm full of my own. We have been blessed in many ways, not just with "things", but the growth of our marriage, the deepening of love, the increased support we show each other and the joy we take in spending time with each other. We both work shift work and I work every weekend, and over the years we have had to sacrifice time with each other and our extended family for our jobs, but we make it work because we love each other. We rarely have time for just the two of us, but when we have that time, we make the most of it.

So, you can make the choice, you can view what you have as fabulous and enjoy your life, or you can be jealous of others and be ungrateful and rude and a general downer to those around you. The choice is yours. I am living a fabulous life! :)

What is wrong with people?

It was made perfectly clear to me yesterday that there is a HUGE difference in how people treat you when you make a mistake and you have a baby with you. And I'm not talking about the way people treat you when you have a screaming 5 year old laying in the middle of the aisle, throwing a huge hissy fit for the world to see. My niece had a meltdown in Walgreens a couple of years ago and we had to leave the store without buying anything. We returned the next day and, lucky me, the same lady was working and she said, "Going to try it again?" Our second attempt at shopping went much better. 

Normally, I take Rocco everywhere with me, so he's had lots of trips to Walmart. When I'm shopping I always try to be courteous of other shoppers, but occasionally I will step out in front of someone because my attention was on him. Most people are gracious as I apologize and smile at me and say, "It's okay." One day he had an unbelievably horrible projectile puke in the pillow aisle and the lady behind me smiled and said, "Oh, poor Mommy. I remember those days."

Well (pretend I have my hands on my hips and say that in an exasperated tone), yesterday, it was a totally different story. I left Rocco with Papa so I could make a quick trip for a couple of things so I could cook dinner at Mom's. I was on the phone with D and I was looking for the bean aisle and I stopped just after I had turned down the wrong aisle. I took two steps back and bumped into someone. No, I did not turn around to see if there was someone behind me, that was my mistake. I immediately turned around and said, "I am so sorry." I was so embarrassed that I said it twice. This woman looked at me like I had horns growing out of my head and toted a pitchfork. She made it perfectly clear how offended she was that I had accidentally bumped into her. I tried to get out of her way as quickly as possible, but I had a cart with a gimp wheel and that irritated her, too. 

Last Friday I was checking out at Walmart and Rocco was kind of over the whole riding around in his car seat thing, so I had been carrying him. I had finished paying at the register and the cashier was helping me get the bags into my cart when the woman behind me rammed me with her cart. Literally, she intentionally and purposefully rammed my backside with her cart. While I'm holding my 5 month old son and loading bags into my cart! In the words of Sebastian Maniscalco, "What is wrong with people?" I wanted to whip out a little white trash attitude and call her every vile thing I could think of that would adequately describe her behavior and certain physical attributes and ram my fist down her throat and my foot up her rear, but I bit my tongue and held my temper. Seriously, what is wrong with people? When did we become so intolerant of others that we can't gracefully excuse an innocent mistake or allow them to load their groceries? Ugh. 

I have a date with my dude tonight, so rant over. It's Friday night in the big town! 

Cleaning up

Well, I finally cleaned out the workout room. It's been the junk room since at least April and I just continually threw piles upon piles of accumulated baby stuff in there. Plus, there were several boxes of things I inherited from my Grandma that I need to go through again.  

Part of the reason it became a junk room was because we were keeping our spare room clean for when Jakob's family came and Jakob's room would become the nursery after he left. It was easier to just toss stuff in a heap and channel a little Scarlet O'Hara and say, "I'll think about that tomorrow," than to try to find a place to neatly store it all. Considering that Jakob left in May, I really don't have a valid excuse for why the room has remained in such a trashy state other than to say I suddenly developed a Mommy bone and couldn't find the time. I finally had a fire lit under my butt and got busy last night. 

In March or April I bought a Total Gym on one of the Facebook buy/barter/sell group pages and it has sat in an unusable state, surrounded by baby stuff ever since. I got that sucker erected last night and I actually used it! I'm not saying I used it a lot, but I used it. I figure if it's accessible we will be more likely to use it. And in just the few moves that I did, it was very effective. I've missed that burn! And I could feel it in my abs which is really exciting because maybe, just maybe, I can get rid of this kangaroo pouch that I'm carrying around!

It does take up more room than I thought it would, but it folds up. I'm pretty amped up about this thing! The real test now is, will I use it? I have every intention to and it seems like I could easily integrate a few minutes here and there throughout the day. But, if I just do a few minutes at a time instead of one dedicated session, I won't always have on my heart rate monitor to tell me how many calories I'm burning. And that makes my OCD head spin!

Continued mixed news

Well, we continue to get mixed news about Diamond. As we had feared, the cost of a CT scan and surgery is more than we can afford; think THOUSANDS of dollars. Plus, we don't know if she would still be able to eat after surgery or if she'd have to be on some kind of feeding tube. And there's no guarantee that having the surgery will prevent her from developing more tumors. 

So, what to do, what to do, oh, what to do? The good news is that she doesn't seem to be hurting, still chases Petes in the yard and the tumor isn't bleeding, so we're going to monitor the situation. But, we have made a couple of changes: no more dry (kibble) dog food and no hard or crunchy treats or meds. She gets soft or canned food, chewy treats, chewy joint supplements, and we have her on some meds to help bring up her weight a little bit and prevent an infection. And since she and Marilyn eat and get treats at the same time, Marilyn is getting the same foods and treats, and neither of them is complaining. They LOVE the canned food and since they can't wait to scarf it up, it's easier to have them on an eating schedule.

It's such a precarious situation; I don't want her to suffer, but I don't want to have her unnecessarily put down (see definition from 2 days ago). As long as she can still eat, doesn't seem to be in pain and acts like her normal self, then we will stay in this monitoring state. Which I hate. I am a person who likes to have definitions and resolute endings. I don't like not having a date set for when she will be better. I don't like to monitor. I don't like to be left hanging. I don't like not having a set course of treatment for her. I don't like "wait and see". But, I also don't have a choice, so I'd better just get happy in the same pants I got mad in. (Do people say that in other parts of the country or is it just an Okie thing?) I feel confused and conflicted.  I will love and enjoy her for as long as she's here. It's hard to look at her every day with this giant tumor making her upper lip stick out and not feel sorry for her. Even if it isn't hurting her, I would still think that it's uncomfortable to have your lip stick out all the time. I would think it's akin to the way braces hurt the inside of your mouth, except this looks a lot worse. She looks pitiful, but the vet pushed around on it and she didn't wince or cry, so I'm hoping it just looks worse than it is and that she doesn't develop any more tumors. How does that old song go? "Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying....."

My poor girl. And if I haven't mentioned it yet, this tumor makes her breath smell ATROCIOUS! Like doggy breath on steroids! It will gag a mag, man! Like gag me with a spoon! Ok, I'll stop. 

Unheeded advice

There are things in life that people warn you about, but you just don't understand, or maybe you don't believe them or maybe you just don't process the information fast enough to adjust your response.

"Don't look down!" And then you do. 

"Watch out for the dog!" And then you trip over the dog. 

"Don't eat the green sauce, it's too hot." And you eat it anyway and your mouth burns for hours. 

When I was little we had a candle that sat on top of our fireplace mantle and it was one of those holders that looked like it stepped out of Mickey's Christmas Carol. You know what I'm talking about? The brass holder with the little curly-q handle? It was burning one night and I wanted to get it down so I could get a better look at it. I stepped up onto the brick ledge in front of the fireplace, raised up onto my tip-toes as high as I could, and then pretended to be Stretch Armstrong as I reached up to get it. I was just barely tall enough to get a grip on the handle. About that time Mom looked up from the kitchen and said, "Don't do that! You're going to burn yourself!" I looked at her like she was stupid and I remember rolling my eyes. I wasn't grabbing the flame, how was I going to get burned? I didn't know that the melted candle wax was also hot and would run over the edge if not kept level. As I lifted the candle holder up, it was too heavy for me to hold steady with one hand and, sure enough, the hot wax ran onto my hand and forearm. Needless to say, it hurt like hell and I cried like a big baby and got the "I told you so" speech. 

A few years ago our local fire department responded to a barn fire and unfortunately there were some show pigs inside that got burned. It was a horrific sight and I cried for the animals and for the teenage girl who loved them. The owner was going to have to put down (that's euthanize for you Northerners) two of the animals because they were too burned to save. My sister-in-law was standing there and I told her to turn away so that she wouldn't have to see what was about to happen. But, she didn't get turned around in time and now the images are burned into her memory. 

People used to tell me how exhausted they were after they became parents and I thought, "What a bunch of weenies!" Now, I wish I would have slept more in my 20's instead of adopting the philosophy that you only live once and sleep can wait. My pregnancy was a new revelation on sleepiness. I would pull over on the side of the road every day on my way home from work because I needed to take a nap. When I got home, it was another nap. After dinner, another nap. I couldn't get enough sleep. It was exhaustion like I've never experienced. 

Until now. 

Just when think you've hit the bottom of the abyss, you find that, no, it really is an abyss and there are endless depths to the level of sleepiness you feel. Shawna and I were talking last night, and as a brand new Mom, she said she was tired ALL the time. I said, "I hate to tell you this, but it doesn't get any better. And I'm not even breast feeding!" Even on days when you get a little more sleep, you never catch up. Even when you sleep when the baby sleeps, you never catch up. When I was trying to breast feed and pump, I would fall asleep as soon as the pump was attached. I don't know what it is about being a parent that causes you to suddenly fall asleep mid-sentence. And all I can think is thank goodness I don't have twins! How do people do it?! I don't know if I would be able to function. A friend told me when I was pregnant that once the baby arrived I would learn how to function and do more on less sleep. Boy, was she right! If I could lay down and sleep for the next three days and not have to worry about anything else, I would knock people down to get to my bed. However, I have to say that the little angel we call Rocco does make it all worth it. And I'm pretty sure that sleepiness is directly linked to Mommy brain and memory lapses. 

Do not be alarmed if you see me napping in my car, in the grass, at a ball game, or leaned over my cart at Walmart. I may get caught up on sleep and rejoin the living in about 20 years. And here's my advice to all of the not-yet-parents out there ..... SLEEP!! Sleep a lot! Sleep all the time! Enjoy it! Relish it! Take advantage of it! Then go have kids and become a zombie like the rest of us. We will welcome you into our ranks; we don't discriminate! 

Grammar snob

I have a confession to make; I am bit of a grammar snob.  Yes, I will secretly and silently judge every word you write and mentally take a red ink pen to your words, marking corrections all over your imaginary paper.  And apparently, I'm not the only one.  Whew!  Thank goodness, because I was afraid I was on an island here.  Yesterday, I made mention on my personal Facebook page of a common grammatical error I see too often and my friends began to let loose with their own grammatical pet peeves.

It's not that I am smarter than anyone else or that my grammar is leaps and bounds above others, because it isn't and I am certainly not an English language expert, but grammatical errors stick out at me like a sore thumb, they always have.  Even my own mistakes irritate me to no end and I will feel an overwhelming compulsion to go back and correct them.  I just can't let it go.  And when my phone autocorrects my words and substitutes the wrong word and I don't catch it, I almost lose my OCD mind.  I know many lovely, wonderful people who have bad grammar and no, I don't go around correcting them, just like they don't tell me that I have a hideous laugh, an Okie accent, and big teeth.  We even each other out.

So, for today's public service announcement, here are a few of the verbal pooh-poohs that top the list:

"I have _____ for sell."  No you have _____ for sale.  You sell an item, you don't sale it.  You aren't saleing (that's not even a word) something, you're selling it.

"I have an ideal, let's go shopping!"  No, you have an idea, not the same thing.

"I was born death in my left ear."  No, you were born deaf in your left ear.

Dis, dat, da - these are not proper substitutions for this, that and the.

"All I like are a few more pages."  No, all you lack are a few more pages.

"I done that."  No, you did that or you have done that.

"I got my hair did."  No, you had your hair done/fixed/cut/permed/colored/etc. and I'm not 100% sure that saying, "I had my hair done," is grammatically correct. ???  Something about the phrase just doesn't sound proper.  I only use the "hair did" line in a completely facetious and joking manner, and yes, I've used it in this blog.

"I seen this movie."  No, you saw that movie or you have seen it.

You're and your - not the same thing.

They're, there and their - again, not the same thing.

An and And - not the same thing.  Using the letter N as a substitution is also a no-no.

Our and are - not the same thing.  Using the letter R as a substitution is only acceptable if you're spelling names like Babies 'R' Us or Toys 'R' Us.

To and too - not the same thing.

And yes, I realize that I do things like starting sentences with the words so, and, or, and but, sometimes I make up my own words, I probably say the word "like" too much and I'm in love with commas and run-on sentences.  But, let's not talk about me, let's talk about everyone else.  If everyone could just play along like nice little boys and girls and start using the correct terminology, in the correct tense and context, my OCD will quiet down and I won't have to make embarrassing confessions to strangers via the internet.

And if all of that offends you, you really need to lighten up.  This is, after all, just a silly little blog written by a woman who's brain is stained with baby poop.  :)

I have a FB page!

I have created a Facebook page for my blog. You can find it at www.facebook.com/thisoklahomagirlslife or if you search Facebook for "this Oklahoma girl's life" you will be able to find it. So, get on over there and "like" my page! Thank you!

Heavy decisions

Well, today is a day of mixed emotions. On one hand I spent the morning rocking, feeding, tickling, consoling (he's teething), and playing with Mr. Rocco. On the other hand we had some not-so-fabulous news about our biggest child, Diamond, our German Shepherd.

Oh, Miss Diamond, I love you so! And to think that the end of your life could be near makes me grieve terribly! I can't talk about it or even think about it without crying. 

When you adopt a furry child into your life, you know that you're probably going to outlive them. But, it's not something you think about and instead you focus on the joy that they bring to your life. And when the day finally arrives when you have to start thinking about the end, it hits you like a ton of bricks, sucking the life out of you and crushing you to pieces. 

When D and I first started dating I had a half beagle-half pit bull dog named Brandy. She was the gentlest, smartest, strongest, and most sensitive dog I'd ever been around. She and I were best buds and companions and when she, D, and I began living under one roof, she did not adjust well. She began acting out at every opportunity to let me know that she was not happy with the situation. Eventually, I decided to give her to a friend who gave her to a 12 year old family member who wanted a dog to be his new BFF. After I let her go, I never again asked how she was doing; it was too painful. Ignorance is bliss and I prefer to think she lived out her days as a happy girl who won the heart of a 12 year old boy. 

We lived without any furry children for about six months before I told D that I needed a dog. I've always had dogs and I felt incomplete without one. I told him that I wanted a blonde Cocker Spaniel and I wanted to name her Marilyn Monroe. He said okay, but stipulated that he would get a German Shepherd. I did not want a dog that big, so we didn't get any dogs. A few more months went by and I simply could not stand it any longer and I relented, agreeing that he could have his GSD, but he/she would not be an inside dog. 

Oh, how life likes to throw you curve balls. 

We found both of the dogs we were looking for in the Midwest City area and drove down to get them. We picked up Marilyn first and, holy wow, the environment she came from was atrocious. There were seven adult Cockers and about as many puppies in the house and they were allowed to pee anywhere they wanted and do as they pleased. I could not snatch up that little four pound ball of fluff fast enough! I wanted to take all of the dogs, but knew it was too much for me. She was so tiny that she fit in the palm of my hand. 

Next, we went to pick up Diamond; D picked out her name and it was fitting because "diamonds are a girls best friend" and she would be Marilyn's BFF. She weighed 25 pounds and looked like a full grown dog next to Marilyn. I was determined to not get attached to her, though, and kept telling D that she was his dog. We got back in the truck and headed off to the pet store to get all of the supplies we would need. 

A few miles later I asked D, "Did you fart?" He said he didn't, but something smelled downright awful, and we all know that a dude's fart is BAD. I said, "Are you sure?" He swore he hadn't farted and I didn't believe him. Then, I looked in the back seat and Diamond had had diarrhea all over the back seat. OMG! was all I could say and we immediately pulled over. I told D that his dog was the one who had crapped everywhere, therefore he was going to clean it up. So, there I sat, in the grass on the side of I-40 in 5 o'clock traffic, holding the dogs while he gagged and hacked and dry heaved and made absolutely no progress on the poo party clean up. Finally, I told him to come hold the dogs and I used an old blanket to clean up as much poo as I could and then I had to scour the grass for discarded, used napkins so I could finish cleaning it all up because someone did not store extra napkins in his glove box like I told him to. There is no amount of antibacterial gel large enough to eliminate the nasty feeling you have after picking up hardened pieces of used napkins on the side of the road. Blech!

Initially, I stuck to my guns and made Diamond stay outside. I felt awful, but I did not want to give in because I didn't want to deal with her shedding. She would cry at the door and use her food bowl as a pillow and I felt more guilty with each passing day. Then, I saw a news segment about dogs, specifically GSD's, and how they need to be a part of a family and if you aren't going to let them be inside, then you really shouldn't have one. That was the day I caved and we have been covered in dog hair ever since. 

D is Diamond's boss; we were told that GSD's only have one master in their life, but I am her Mama. She is attached to me and wherever I go, she goes, constantly under my feet and keeping watch for me. When I leave, she sits at the back door and waits for me to return. She alerts me to strangers and pesky critters outside. 

Diamond and Marilyn are truly BFF's and we've always known that if something happens to one of them, the other will suffer tremendously. I will suffer tremendously! Diamond has had a couple of seizures in the last few years and she has arthritis and in July she developed a tumor in her mouth. We had it removed and the Vet had to cut so deep that he had to remove her main canine tooth on her upper left side. The tumor came back in the last few weeks, growing faster than it did before and it's about three times bigger than it was before. Dr. Brett was afraid that she would have other tumors on her lungs or in her joints, but as of right now, she doesn't. However, they may have to cut out half of her jaw to remove this tumor and until he can consult with a vet who specializes in this kind of treatment, we don't know what her recovery would be like, what the risks associated with the surgery are, what her quality of life would be, how much all of it will cost and if we can afford it. And whether she has surgery or not, there is a risk that the tumors will spread throughout her body and we don't know what kind of damage that will cause. 

So, we have come to that point where we are going to have to start considering her quality of life and weighing the risks. I feel completely helpless and at a loss. We have had Diamond and Marilyn for 10 years! I cannot imagine our lives without them, even though I know it will happen. They are our babies and it breaks my heart to see either of them suffer.

Resting. 

Sleeping by the fireplace at Christmas. 

It was the first day of school and everyone was posting pics of their kids, so I posted one of our kids, too. 

Happy, happy, happy!

Best "butties".

Isn't she a beauty?

How she sleeps. 

If you are a praying person, please say a little prayer for us as we wait for more information and face some hard decisions in the days ahead. If you're not a praying person, if you could just channel some positive thoughts this way, that would be great, too. I feel like I may be crying for a long time.....

Healing, one stitch at a time

Two years ago this month we found out we were pregnant for the first time and since everyone had been waiting years for us to have kids, it was BIG news. I was so excited that I immediately bought our nursery bedding, a diaper bag and some gender neutral onesies. We had been trying to get pregnant for over a year and for months I had been looking at cross stitch patterns, trying to decide on one for the nursery. I finally settled on a picture of a mare and foal in front of a barn, shaded by beautiful trees. It would be something that was always age appropriate and the picture, along with each tiny stitch, would convey my love for our little one. And I liked that it was a mother and her child; the child standing close to mom for security and mom looking on with love. I had already bought the kit, but was waiting until we got pregnant to officially start working on it. When the day finally arrived, I quickly set out studying the pattern, sorting thread and preparing my fabric. 

But, it wasn't meant to be.

A few weeks later we miscarried. 

We were completely heartbroken and unprepared for such a circumstance. It never even occurred to us that we could have a miscarriage. I thought that they were few and far between. Apparently, they're quite common and I was shocked by the number of women who came out of the woodwork to tell me that they'd also had miscarriages. I guess it's just something that no one wants to talk about, which is completely opposite of how I feel. I feel like not talking about it makes it more taboo, exacerbates the feelings of pain, loneliness, and sadness that a parent has after that happens, and it feels like we're not remembering the tiny soul that we lost and Heaven gained. I was so very, very sad and I put away all of the things I had bought, laying the onesies out neatly in a drawer, putting the bedding and diaper bag in the back corner of a closet and burying the cross stitch deep into my craft stuff. I'd already started stitching on it and now I couldn't bear to look at it. 

We spent the next couple of months recovering and I tried to console myself by getting my hair permed. But, my hormones were completely out of whack and instead of nice curls, my hair got fried. Literally. Bozo had nothing on me. 

By the end of January, we were pregnant again. I told myself that I didn't want to let the miscarriage hamper my joy for our second baby and I dug out the cross stitch and started working on it again; stitching just as much love into it as I had several months before. 

Then we went in for an ultrasound and I knew by the look on the nurse's face that something was wrong. We waited a week, there was nothing else to do, and then they confirmed that our second baby had died. I didn't think I could bear it, but I did. Somehow, we survived miscarriage number two and once again, I buried the cross stitch beneath pounds of fabrics and threads and other craft kits. 

By July, the only thing on my mind was losing the weight that two miscarriages had given me. I was running in the 110 degree heat every day and I had lost over 15 pounds. We were making plans for Jakob to arrive and while we were still trying to get pregnant, we were focusing on other things. I had come to the point where I almost wanted to get rid if all of the baby stuff we had bought. I didn't want to look at it or even have it in my house anymore. And the beautiful bedding and cute little onesies no longer held anything but pain for me and I wondered if getting rid of them would help me start from a clean slate. But, I just couldn't bring myself to take that step. 

Then, in September we found out that we were pregnant with baby number three. We were happy, but cautious. I was afraid to get too attached for fear that this baby would also be taken from us, but I still dug out the cross stitch one more time, determined to channel my love into those tiny stitches, whether he/she lived or not. 

I guess the third time was the charm, because mine months later our little Rocco was born! When I was about six months pregnant I dug out the bedding I'd bought so long ago, planning to get rid if it and buy something new, but to my surprise, I fell in love with it again!

I worked on the cross stitch almost daily, stitching all of my love for him and facilitating my own healing one tiny stitch at a time. I hoped to be finished before he arrived, but that didn't happen because he came a month early! As any new parent knows, you don't have time for ANYTHING except baby when you're a new parent. It took us a few months of adjusting to get into a routine that works and I finally got to start working on the cross stitch again. I finished it this week and got it washed, ironed, matted, and framed and I couldn't be happier with how it turned out!

Here it is after I finished framing it. 

And here it is on the nursery wall. 

As you know, I also made the boot light, but I also decorated the star. It was plain when I bought it at our local drug store, so I bought some beaded garland to embellish it. I want Rocco to know how much time and care and love I put into his room; putting a piece of my heart in every detail to express my love for him. Having him in our lives has managed to ease the pain of losing two babies and he is truly a blessing. If something happens to me, he will still have some small representations of how much I love him; something physical that he can hold on to and look at; something that says, "I love you SO much!" if I'm not here to say it to him. 

Mommy brain

I have a problem. I can't remember anything. This trend started when I was pregnant and would forget things like putting on my deodorant in the mornings. And no, that didn't just happen once.

I take my coupons into Walmart and I forget to use them. I can't even count how many times this has happened to me. I will even set them aside in my wallet so that I don't forget them, then I get to the register and completely forget about them. I will see them as I get out my debit card and it still doesn't dawn on me to use them. It's like they just blend into the background.

If I have a gift card, I will go to the store specifically to use it, get to the register and forget about it. This happened to me at Babies 'R' Us a few months ago. It really hacked me off because it's an hour drive to that store and I intentionally drove there so I could use my gift card. So, I had to make another trip on another day. Use the gift card, waste some gas - this is my life. A few days ago, I returned some items to Walmart, had the refund put on a gift card, stuck the card in a special place in my purse so I would remember to use it, got to the register and forgot about it again!

I will ask for a to-go drink and leave it sitting on the table. Then I feel guilty because not only did I waste the tea, but I wasted a styrofoam cup and a plastic lid, as well. I ask for a doggie bag and forget the food on the table. More waste.

In my own home I frequently lose my shoes, socks, phone and drinks. I have been known to have 5 cups of water spread throughout the house because I forgot where I left the last one. A few days ago I lost my eyeliner. I used it and set it down on the bathroom counter and the next day it had disappeared. I spent 5 minutes looking all over for it, knowing I hadn't taken it out if the bathroom and no one else had moved it because Rocco and I were the only ones home for 2 days. After looking all over the counter and the floor four times, I looked down for the fifth time and there it was. On the counter. Where I'd already looked four times. I'm not taking responsibility for this incident. Someone, and by someone I mean a spirit, moved it and was toying with me. Just kidding. But, seriously, it appeared out of thin air.

I was going to send a text to a friend the other day and when I got ready to type it, I couldn't think of her name. A lifelong friend! This must be a small representation of what Alzheimer's feels like. I could picture her face, her house, her family, but I couldn't remember her name.

I still make my to-do lists, but I will sometimes forget that I made one or I can't find it, so I start a new one or I just say screw it and don't even bother. I eventually find several lists in the bottom of my purse. I keep thinking it will get better, but I have a feeling this is just another Mom fantasy.

I will walk from the kitchen to the bathroom to gather up the trash and by the time I get to the bathroom, which is less than 5 seconds, I've forgotten what I walked in there for. I stand there for several minutes, looking around, hoping that I will see something that reminds me why I am in there. Usually, I will give up, go back to the kitchen and five minutes later I remember that I need to get the bathroom trash. I waste much of my day in this kind of routine.

I have no idea what's going on, but I'm pretty sure that motherhood has cost me my short term memory. My brain is consumed with taking care of our little one and there's not much room for anything else in there. I can remember to get the bottles washed, formula and nursery water stocked, diaper bag filled, baby fed, washed and happy, but for the life of me, I can't remember much else. So, here's my apology: If we run into each other and you start talking about something I should be familiar with and I stare at you with a blank look on my face, please forgive me, chuckle to yourself, tell me how cute my baby is and give me a little reminder to get back on track. My brain is stained with baby poop.

A Butterfinger bender

Do you ever have days where you just crave something so badly that you feel like if you don't get that "thing" your front teeth will fall out or your right arm might shrivel up or maybe you'll just have a mental breakdown and turn into a rabid beast or be like one of the mutts from "The Hunger Games"? Man, I hate days like that!

Last week we bought about $50 worth of Halloween candy, which will probably last all of an hour when we go to Mom's to pass it out to trick-or-treaters. All of the candy sat in our house for three days and I wasn't tempted and didn't even want a bite of any of it. I was actually kind of repulsed by the number of calories the candy contained. 

Then day four hit. 

And I don't know what happened. 

All I can say is that the bag of snack size Butterfingers was calling my name. It was a playful taunt at first and I just ignored it. "Kiiiiiiiiiiiirsteeeeeeeeeen!" it was saying in a hushed tone, like it had a secret to tell me, and before long it was barking out my name like a drill instructor and ordering me around. "Get in here, cadet, and open this bag and eat a candy bar! That's an order!"

Okay, one won't hurt, right?

Except I didn't stop at one. 

Tsk, tsk. 

Oh, I tried, though. I went back to the living room, fed the baby, rocked the baby, played with the baby, bathed the baby, drank a glass of water, drank another glass of water, and the whole time I could hear that bag screaming at me, like a toddler who just wants to be held. Pick me up and I'll be quiet. I promise. The next thing I knew, I had gone on a Butterfinger bender and eaten about half the bag. 

Oh.

My.

Word!

How  does that happen? I was consciously telling myself to stop, but my taste buds and my stomach and that happy feeling that chocolate gives you were all overriding my sense of self control. I was unwrapping them at warp speed and shoveling them in as fast as I could, like it was an Olympic event, and all the while telling myself that it was okay. I don't normally eat candy, so this entire episode was extremely out of character for me. I felt completely out of control and I didn't even care. 

After I'd eaten about one fourth of the bag, my craving had yet to be sated. Seriously, what is wrong with me? So, I decided to just keep eating. Why, you ask? Well, I had a theory. I was going to eat them until I felt sick; the theory being that if I made myself sick on them, I wouldn't want them anymore. I didn't say it was a good theory. My brain was sick that day. Forgive me. After half of the bag was gone, I still wanted to keep eating and I still didn't feel sated. Again, seriously, what is wrong with me? I wasn't hungry, I wasn't even hungry when I ate the first one. However, I was quite disgusted with how much I had eaten, so I made myself stop, even though I wanted to devour the rest of the bag. Why I didn't stop after the first one, or even before the first one, is beyond me. Call me weak. I went to bed thinking about Butterfingers. I told you something is wrong with me. It was an epic fail kind of day. 

The good news is that even though I didn't make myself sick on them, I haven't been craving them anymore! Plus, D finished off the bag yesterday.