Yes, there have been “bloggable” events in the last few weeks, and when they occurred I said, “Oh, I should post that on my blog”.  Then as time passes and other things happen they sort of lose their spark.  It kind of reminds me one of those “you had to be there” jokes.  It seems sooooo funny/important while it was happening, but when you try to retell the event to someone else they just stare at you like you have green boogers falling out of your nose.

Honestly, some of the things I could have written about were so darn depressing that I just couldn’t do it. My hubby has been extra, extra sick lately and frankly, he has more than once talked about being so sick he may not be around for Christmas.  That just makes you want to run and check out my blog every day, huh?  Thankfully, things have improved somewhat.  But, what do you do with that kind of stuff? Yes, this a blog about my life, my cute daughter, my loving husband.  I want it to be full of wit and wisdom and memories and sentiment.  But for my own sake and those who might read it, it should also be real. 

So, here it goes.  The last several weeks have been full of many tears, many discussions, many decisions, lots of sickness and, believe it or not, some very exciting and good things too. 

After a year, and then some, in IL we have decided to return to WV.  Over the next couple months we’ll be making the transition.   The reasons for the return are twofold (at a minimum).  The first is that my hubby needs medical care for Lyme disease.  Treatment that we were sure would be abundant in IL.  It is not.  Lyme is a tough nut to crack anyway, but he has made a connection with a doctor in WV that is very willing to think outside the box and take drastic measures to improve his health.  Lyme is prevelent in WV and other states along the east coast – not so much in the mid-west.  Strangely, the most “lyme-literate” doctor we have been able to find was in our own back door.  The second reason is strictly financial.  Our home in WV has not sold.  They say everything happens for a reason and if G needs the medical treatment in WV, then our house NOT selling is a blessing. 

For reasons that I don’t know or understand, we were meant to come this way for a year.  Maybe it was simply to put things in perspective and set our plans firmly in place.  Only time will tell. 

Of course, I’m happy to be physically closer to my family by returning to WV.  Z and her grandparents will no longer have to have their “lovefest” long distance.  But I must admit that there’s something very liberating and empowering for me about being in a new place, out of my comfort zone and blazing my own path.  I will miss the adventure, even though at times it was VERY overwhelming.  I don’t want to lose all that by returning to what is familiar.  That being said, I know this is the right decision.

Now, comes the task of getting all our things together and moved back to WV.  There is no way to glorify or glamorize that task.  It is hell – plain and simple.  I have been purging closets, drawers, you name it.  I am determined that we will NOT be trucking junk that was questionable when we left WV, only to have it come back to take up valuable space once again.  I think/hope the move back will be much cleaner.

I am becoming truly interested in the efficient Scandinavian style of life and home - clean, simple, no frills furniture, uncluttered and yet sophisticated.  Living near and being able to shop at IKEA has opened my eyes to what ”less is more” really means.  I think I can live with far less clothing, pots and pans, things sitting around to collect dust.  I just want walls and shelves full of meaningful, simply-framed photographs of family and friends.   I want my husbands paintings on the walls too.   Not boring,  just simpler! 

Maybe this strange post has gotten me over the hump.  Perhaps my thought bubble will once again fill with so many thoughts that I just won’t be able to contain them.  We can hope. 

A poopy that will not come out is a BIG DEAL to a four year old.  It is a situation worthy of a sincere prayer to the Most High.  A while back just such a problem occurred at our house.  Z was on the toilet straining and sweating, crying and panicking.  She called to me to come sit on the side of the bathtub to comfort her. Without going into much detail, we tried several methods of easing the problem without any luck.  At one point she strained and squealed something inaudible.  I asked, “Sweety, what did you say?”  Rather frustrated, and more clearly this time, she said, “I need Jeeeesusss!” 

I stifled every urge within me to laugh and agreed that we should say a prayer and ask Jesus to help the poopy come out.  So there in the bathroom with me, Z, the Dora towels, and the princess toothbrush we humbly bowed our heads asked the Lord for some much needed help.  There was a sense of relaxation and eventually the deed was done.  Then, of course, we had to have a big celebration and say a prayer of Thanksgiving.  

I was so surprised by this whole encounter.  We have made it a habit to say a blessing every night, and more recently, Z has been verbalizing her own bedtime prayers.  And we say grace before our meals.  But in this everyday, practical situation I was shocked to see that Z really did understand that any concern can be voiced to God.  As a matter of fact, it had never even crossed her mind that she could not or should not pray about such a thing. 

Perhaps when Jesus made a big deal out of instructing us to protect and nurture and even be like little children he knew we could learn volumes from them.  Children have no preconceived notions about what is appropriate, politically correct, etc.  They just boldly run to Him, arms outstretched and overflowing with trust.  It is our job to maintain that for as long as possible and allow the child to carry as much of that into the “cold hard world” as possible.   

Just a couple days ago Z and I were in a department store and the need to go potty struck.  As I waited outside the stall she was in, I heard some talking/mumbling.  I said, “Mommy didn’t hear you.  What did you say?”  She replied, “I’m talking to Jesus.”  Nothing more needed to be said.   

Another prayer was answered and a child’s faith was increased.  

Romans 8:26-28 (“The Message” translation) Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along.  If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.

There were a few things accomplished early in the day.  I cleared everything off the kitchen counters and did a deep clean of the counter tops and stove-top.  Mid-day was calm.  Z’s niece (whos’ the same age) came over for a few hours this afternoon and I managed to chat with my hubby for a while in between buttoning Cinderella costumes, taping tiara’s back together, and making grilled cheese sandwiches. 

I really needed to go to the grocery store but I just couldn’t get the momentum to make the trip.  We needed milk, OJ, butter, bread (you know, the basics) and several more things.  I was even craving chocolate and that didn’t get me out the door.  So, we had ground sirloin patties, lima beans and steak fries for dinner.  All the things just waiting in my freezer saying, “Pick me! Pick me!”  I did.  And it was good.

After cleaning up from dinner, I made my way upstairs and separated laundry and I’m now on the second load in the washer.  G is with Z as she is heading off to dreamland, and I’m writing this post.

I’ve changed my mind as I’ve been writing.  I DID do a lot of things today – I just didn’t do them in a stressful, hurried manner (which is usually the case).  I was not a couch potato in the least.  I think this photo is far more fitting.

Yeh, and my body really looks like that too! 

So I’ve been using these generic, impersonal photos when I post, and it doesn’t allow me to connect like I wish I could with anyone reading.  There are lots of bloggers out there who post photos of their kids, their pets, their house everyday.  Maybe I will reach a better comfort level with it in the future, but for now I hope the words alone will do the trick.

What do you think?  It is reasonable for me to have these worries or should I just post away and not let nameless, faceless strangers steal my joy of sharing photos?

If G (a.k.a. “Fa”) is nearby he will declare “That was me,”, knowing it will infuriate her that someone is trying to steal her thunder (pun intended).  She will fire back, “That was not your fart/burp.  That was mine.”  If any fart or burp takes place, they both love to claim it. 

I really hope G enjoys this stage of Z’s life where inhibitions and modesty do not exist.  Time will march on and eventually I will be unable to convince her that she and her Fa used to compete for the best fart and burp. 

But for now, they can enjoy this lovely pastime reminiscent of that famous scene from “The Sting”and fall on the floor laughing to their hearts content.  In the meantime, I can fart anytime I want and know that someone else will gladly claim it!

Ah….life is good. 

We had a good visit to WV and felt as welcome and as comfortable as can be at my parents house.  But my bed, my sheets, my kitchen, my shower cannot be duplicated – even in the most loving environment. 

Part of the joy of being home is just relief of the weariness from the 500+ miles with a four year old.  The four year old who used to take long naps on long trips, the four year old who was content to watch any show (with headphones) in which Dora was the main character. 

She is now the four year old that declares “The Fox and the Hound” too scary, that the seat belt gives her a stomach ache and is uncomfortable and awkward (her words).  She is the four year old that has to pee, poop, eat, get “holdies” from mommy nearly every 40-50 miles, requests that we stop talking so she can hear her music, asks us not to sing along, AND the four year old who keeps unbuckling her seat-belt.  This little trick caused LOTS of drama during the trip home.

Today I sort of longed for the good ol’ days.  I know I sound like an old granny, but “when I was a kid” seat-belts were in the car, but mostly just as decoration.  On long trips me and my brother would use blankets, pillows and anything else we could find to transform the back seat into a luxury suite where we could stretch out in the floorboard, across the entire back seat, the back window – you name it. And not even once did our parents ever consider strapping us down, rendering us immobile for  8-10 hours. And that was just in a regular car. On more than one occasion, my family borrowed a truck with one of those camper tops.  In the bed of the truck was the luggage, bicycles, coolers, groceries, charcoal, grill…. and me and my brother on sleeping bags & blankets rolling around with the cargo. Loving every minute of it. 

Today things are quite different.  Seatbelts, car seats, booster seats, airbags, front facing, rear facing, placement in the back seat - are serious business.  Knowing what I know, I can’t let my daughter roam freely around the car as I book down the interstate. But a little part of me wishes she could experience the joy of traveling as I did as a kid where going on a trip was like having your own playhouse – on wheels. 

Instead, there are videos, coloring books, crayons, music galore to entice her to remain buckled and happy for the long haul.  If all else fails, I’m gettin’ me some red shoes and findin’ me a wizard!

In the distance we could see three huge “Three Mile Island-type” smoke stacks at the John Amos Power Plant.  Most people would look at the sight and declare it an eyesore and an undesirable place to live.

However, Z perked up in her booster seat, gasped with delight and shouted, “Mommy, Fa!  Oh my gosh.  Look, they are making clouds over there”!   I love that girl.

This morning, however, I saw a couple emails from two old friends in my inbox.  The subject line was something like “Sad News”.  I sort of braced myself to read that one of our dear theater professors had died.  NO.  They were letting everyone know that one of our long time friends, Steve, had died.

For a while I just couldn’t move.  I thought surely there was some mistake.  You see, I was part of a group of friends in college that I can’t even do justice in words.  We were young, funny, talented, wildly insecure (but masked it with humor), and we wanted to be together 24/7.  The few of us had come together at a pivotal time in our lives and the bonds we formed during those years are like steel.  Even today, the miles that separate us all are many – Chicago, Kansas City, Birmingham, Philadelphia, Charleston, Okinawa Japan, Las Vegas, Beckley, Nashville, Huntington.  But the bond is still there.  It is palpable.  It is just as real to me today as it was then.

Today this sad news has caused us to pick up the phone, write emails, re-tell stories and reach out to each other for comfort, for stability, for understanding.  The alarm has gone off.  We understand all too clearly that it could have easily been one of us.  Our “Big Chill” has arrived.

Steve was 42 years old.  He was five days younger than me.  Today was my 43rd birthday – Sunday would have been his. We would often go to dinner around the 25th or 26th of October to celebrate our mutual birthdays.  Later today I found out he died from a heart attack.  He had been diagnosed with high blood pressure, had begun taking some meds and feeling better.  On Friday evening he returned from work not feeling well, fell asleep on the sofa, then woke throwing up and having chest pains.  He was in his home in Pennsylvania with his partner of 10 years.  911 was called and he died that very night. 

I first met him when in high school.  We went to different schools but competed on the speech teams and would see each other often at the tournaments. One year we qualified for the National tournament in Detroit and about ten of us from his school and mine piled into a van and had the time of our lives on that trip.  That’s when we really started our friendship.

When I started college at Marshall I knew no one.  Low and behold on the first day of class I ran into Steve.  We went to lunch at Wendy’s where we both ordered the same meal – double cheeseburger with mayo only, fries and a coke.  We both had a scar in the corner of our eye from bumping it as a child, and we joked about being soul-mates/scar mates. 

Steve was a magnificent singer and performer.  He was original, daring, had a cutting sense of humor, and was”over the top” in nearly everything he did.  We were attached at the hip for a long time.  Although it was truly just a friendship, it was intimate – in a “I can tell what you are thinking” kind of way.  He would hold my hand and snuggle up with me when we were together.  Something both of us needed-that human touch from someone we really trusted.

There was a period of years when we did not communicate.  Steve went through some very self-destructive  times and eventually I thought it was better to leave the friendship before I was in the middle of destructive things myself.  I don’t know how righteous that was of me.  Looking back, maybe it was selfish.  I do know it was one of the hardest decisions I ever made.

Eventually, time passed and maturity increased for everyone and we reconnected at a reunion.  When I returned to WV in 1997 after living in Nashville for 8 years we rekindled the friendship.  He was living in Huntington and I in Scott Depot.  It was a healthy, grown-up friendship.  He was again pursuing a performing career after a very successful run of upper-level restaurant management.  Soon he was off performing and getting rave reviews wherever he went.   I was sad to see him leave WV, but very happy to see him doing what he had longed to do.

After that, we would talk once, maybe twice, a year on the phone.  He came to visit George and I once when he was  visiting WV, and he would always send a very touching Christmas card each year.

Now it is over.  Just memories.  Another friend posted these lyrics from the musical Wicked, and I think they are prefect for this day, this season:

I’ve heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today
Because I knew you:

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You’ll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend:

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
But because I knew you,
I have been changed for good

And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I’ve done you blame me for
But then, I guess we know
There’s blame to share
And none of it seems to matter anymore.

Goodbye, old friend.
Love,
T

When I picked her up at school this evening I could see in her eyes that she didn’t feel well.  She climbed on my lap at home and took little catnap.  She didn’t want any supper and just stayed curled up in a blanket on the sofa.  Again – I told myself she may just be tired from a long week and tiring day.

When we went upstairs she crawled into her bed – voluntarily.  That sealed the deal.  I had to leave the state of denial I was in and move to a new state -called reality. I took her temp and administered the Motrin – the only thing she will willingly take. She requested some music and was asleep in less than five minutes.  It’s official.  She’s sick.

Maybe no one else does this when their child gets sick, but I start worrying about how much sleep I’m going to lose and how I will keep up with all my responsibilities because of the sleep deprivation.  Is that awful or what?  Of course it breaks my heart to see her feeling so bad, and I will do whatever necessary to help her feel better.  But way underneath it all I’m feeling selfish, and on top of that guilty – for feeling selfish.

Well, there.  I’ve said it.  Call the authorities.  Take my name off the nomination list for Mother of the Year.  And if the nights of rocky sleep are ahead as I suspect, be prepared for even more ridiculous, pointless and secret-revealing posts.

The part I’m not looking forward to is the gathering of all the things that need to go with us!  I have an all day trade show event next Thursday, so by Wednesday night I need to have everything in place.  As I type my mind is making lists:

• prescriptions
• cpap machine for my apnea and intolerable snoring
• get all laundry clean
• don’t wear and/or get dirty the things that I want to pack
• gather & pack clothes ensemble for me for company holiday portrait on Sunday afternoon
• buy & pack Christmas dress, tights, shoes, hair fru-fru for Z, who will also be in the photo
• Presentable clothes for all of us in case we go to church
• Cinderella dress, glass slippers & crown for trick or treat
• matching tights & turtleneck in case it’s cold when the princess is trick or treating
• coats for all of us in case the temps really dip, which they could
• work related paperwork for the work week in WV
• box of things for archiving/filing at the WV office
• business cards for Nicole to “doctor” while I’m in
• call/go see my dear friend in Beckley who has every right to shun me for not communicating with her but once over the last 11 months
• call G’s WV doctor office AGAIN (since they never returned my call) and get treatment scheduled
• schedule meeting with realtor regarding sale of our house – or lack thereof
• sweep, mop, vacuum, empty fridge, change sheets, clean toilets (I hate to return home to a big mess)
• stop the mail
• get oil changed
• pack Z’s favorite music and her Storybook Bible that she LOVES to read every night
• pack Z’s recent school pictures to distribute
• call preschool in WV to schedule Monday and Wednesday if possible
• healthy snacks & water for the trip
• find the DVD player that works, set up in car, gather various DVDs
• Get a couple new DVDs as a surprise for Z’s long trip
• There’s so much more…..really.

 You get the picture.  Believe it or not, this is not a complaint, just the reality of preparing to leave.  I won’t even start talking about returning home, unpacking and getting back to our regular routine - which seems to take about two weeks. That’s when I usually have decided that life would just work a lot better if I actually took the underwear OUT of the suitcase, put it back the drawer and store the suitcase.  I can’t be the only one who does that.

The very best part of going to WV is seeing my parent’s faces light up when they are around Z – and vice versa.  It is worth every effort of packing, planning, and then eventually running to the store because you forgot the something-or-other that you meant to bring. 

And when you are at Mom & Dad’s house it’s ok to just chill, read the paper, borrow shampoo because you forgot yours, try some lotion that my mom swears is helping her dry skin these days, hop in bed with Z & my mom before bedtime and just enjoy watching and being with Z together. 

I hope that Z goes to many interesting places in her lifetime.  That she will not be afraid to adventure, explore and learn about new things and new people. Odds are, she won’t live just down the street.  But I hope, no matter how overwhelming it may be to prepare for a visit, she can always come home and feel as good as I do when I’m with my parents.