First of all, I totally need to update this more often. I feel like I have nothing to say so I just… say… nothing…

and- for anyone who thinks I’m mature or handling things well, (there may be none of you if you read my insane ranting on here on a regular basis!) I’m not. I’m stressed out a lot, even if I think I’m not stressed, my hunched up shoulders tell me otherwise. I am snappy (horrible) with Ben and Summit and totally an imperfect, messy person. I feel like God is the only reason I’ve not been committed to an insane asylum. Do they still have those? It’d be very restful, but altogether embarrassing so I guess I’m pretty thankful that God has taken it upon himself to save me from THAT.

Every night I lay down on my bed and the guilt of everything I’ve screwed up that day falls down on me like a wet blanket; I wish I was more disciplined, focused and motivated. Last night however, it struck me that no matter what kind of day I had had, that I’m imperfect and it was just Satan attacking me with lies that I wasn’t good enough. No matter what kind of day you have had, you probably have sinned and therefore we are in the same boat regardless. That was an oddly cheerful thought. Sinners are sinners, without exception. Every night we all go to bed with the sins of the day weighing on us, but God also forgives us equally and loves us the same. The hope is that tomorrow that God may help me hold my tongue when I want to scream at Ben, God may give me patience with Summit when he throws a huge fit and that God will give me the grace I never extend to myself.

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We will be buying the house Friday. I’m a mess of nerves. We will be doing updates and repairs for the next week and I can’t decide on anything. The things I make decisions on, Ben questions. I throw up my hands. I obsess and dream in paint swatches and counter tops. I’ve spent our meager budget 100 times in 100 different ways. I feel poor, I feel like a greedy king. I love this house, I also hate it. I’m a glorious mess of conflicting emotions.

For realsies though, I decided to paint the brick and now Ben wants to wait. Not a big deal really, it was just one of the few decisions I had made so I’m laughing. I am going to paint a lot of the light fixtures because they are actually cool looking other than the bright, brassy gold. I think I’m going to post some of the pics on here and beg for ideas or at least affirmation that my choice was right, lol.

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We settled our last major credit card so now all we have left is a few grand on Ben’s student loans!!! That feels GREAT! errrrr… and the debt of this new house…

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Still not update on Offspring #2 who has yet to be named. I’m waiting for something before I can name him. I don’t know what it is, perhaps it’s the sweet relief I will feel when they tell me nothing is on his ultrasound… I don’t know. I hope that they find nothing, I think they are planning on scheduling the level 2 ultrasound next week. I was going to decline it like I declined the genetic testing, but I talked with some people and they said it was a good idea because they can check the heart better with this ultrasound and schedule a heart surgery if necessary when the baby is born. I’m still praying my butt off against this and the possible Down’s Syndrome indicators. I’m not brave, I’m not amazing- I’m scared crap-less and begging God like my life depended on it. I can’t handle this at all, and I think that is right where God wants me for now. I keep begging for him to take me back as I lash out like a hurt, crazed animal at those who love me the most. I’m fine most of the time, but it’s those moments in the quiet where my heart feels like it is going to burst out of my chest in agony and I can’t lift my head. Pain is most humbling.

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To end on a lighter note- my child is a genius. He wears his cotton undies with pride and screams when we put a diaper on him at night. He’ll kick in his crib hours after we’ve put him to bed when he needs to go to the bathroom. He’ll stand up in his bed and sign “potty” and his diaper will be dry. Genius. To be fair, he does have a wet diaper in the morning, but during the day it is very rare I have to change a wet pair of undies. He’s had about 1 accident in the last week… and it was today. DANG VEGGIE TALES! Among all the other struggles we’ve had with him, it is really nice that he seems to love being potty trained and has had success. We have to go get his blood work done AGAIN to test for Celiac’s Disease more intensively. We still don’t know if he has it or not, we think not, but this is something we need to know. Celiac’s Disease is serious, I need to be much more careful about his diet if he has it and not just hope that there isn’t gluten in some food product I’m feeding him. A quick example of changes I’d have to make would be: getting different pots/pans to cook food for Summit in, (cross-contamination in kitchen utensils is bad,) no ketchup, aerosol hairspray and toothpaste among other weird products containing gluten, very little eating out, (it’s hard to find gluten friendly restaurants,) and pretty much me getting a part-time job to pay for all the more expensive foods I’ll have to buy for him.

That wasn’t quite the lighter note I was intending to leave you with… so, yeah, we DON’T think he has this, we are just trying to be sure.

Another light note is that Summit was described to me Sunday as having the most “vibrant soul” of any child they had ever met. I glowed inside.

The winter landscape is beautiful in it’s bareness and bleakness. I love the yellow of the grass, the blue of the mountains and nakedness of the trees. It’s the kind of quiet that makes your head ring and the wind sound like chimes on the bare branches. There is a richness there that makes my heart ache. Some feelings can’t be put into words, they are too much or too deep. I like it when that happens, it’s a secret for me that I’m actually incapable of telling.

A few weeks ago at the ultrasound the doctor found something on the baby’s brain. We don’t know if it is anything, it may just be nothing. The what it “could be” is always scary, even when all the statistics seem in your favor. Even when the doctor says he’s not concerned YET. It’s what “could be” that sticks in your brain like a burrowing weevil.

What could be is that the white spots on the brain indicate an extra chromosome- which could be Downs or Edwards Syndromes.

I know it sounds crazy, but I’m ok. I’m not happy, I’m a little freaked out but I’m ok. It is impossible to describe, the feelings are too much to write. I really feel that this baby will be fine, that they will find nothing on the next ultrasound. I have no reason to feel this way, it goes beyond human understanding, but my hope isn’t in something I can describe. I know what I believe, I know that people are praying for me and this child, and I feel a peace. I can’t worry about this now, I can’t go there yet, but when I do, all I know is that God will be with me.

and for those who say that God will not give you more than you endure… you are wrong. That isn’t what the verse says or means. God WILL give you more than you can endure, I have already been there. Because it’s there, in your complete and utter weakness, in your failure and hopelessness, that you stop trying and are forced to really depend on him.

Sherry Kettner is a dear friend of mine, she writes over at her blog, http://www.sherrykletters.blogspot.com. I love having late night talks with her over chips and salsa (and margaritas when I’m not preggers!)or just sitting in my dingy ‘ment fighting Sum’s desire to rip up her favorite bracelet. One night we started talking about maturity and I loved her perspective so much I begged her to write a blog post on it for me so I could share it. Enjoy! -Heidi

When I grow up I wanna…

As kids we are so excited about the idea of “when I grow up”. As little ones we want to grow up so we can have a job that we want. The, “I wanna be a ballerina, firefighter, librarian, or teacher”. The world of adulthood holds every single dream that you can possibly imagine! This is for clear reasons as a child, being big is the equaling factor that will have the freedom and ability to make those dreams come true.

Then we hit an age of about 4th to 6th grade where we are so much a little kid still but so much not at the same time. We are excited about now being in the BIG KIDS CLUB but all the while still enjoy some of the pleasures of being a kid. We are not in such a rush anymore to get big but it is still and exciting idea that we know we are heading towards something that seems so immeasurable by definition.

Then come those years of Jr. High and High School, oh those years, (take a moment to remember those years… now sigh… and moving on.) This is where we find ourselves wanting, desiring, and fighting with deep conviction, and in moments, deep stupidity which we most defiantly see as incredible reasonable wisdom at the time, to be free, to be seen as how we see ourselves, to be treated how we feel… grown up. We want to have the sense of finally being given the rights that we feel we have so earned by waiting so long to be considered mature. This is where we begin making statements such as, “I can’t wait till I am out of here”, I can’t wait until I can make all my own choices”, and my favorite, “I am 16; I am an adult I can make my own decisions.” All we want is to move on out of this place that we see as a life so burdened with restriction. And yet, all the while, in the very same moment in time, we are so deeply wrapped up in the drama and moments of this current act of this stage play called high school. (Not to be confused with High School musical. But… now that I think about it, take away the dancing and music, and it wasn’t too different, and some days you would have thought the world around you just might break out in song and dance, but that feeling was always short lived due to the school bell that screamed reality.) We know all the info on the world around us; we have deep convictions about how Jenny from the block gave me that dirty look.

Then, sharply, we find that we are expected to make those grown up decisions that we have spent countless hours fighting with our parents to make. Then, within a very short dash of the eye the very things we thought would just hang the moon such as jobs, college, money, spouses and so on from there, aren’t exactly what our, “when I grow up” dreams painted for us. We find ourselves overwhelmed at times and at other moments wishing that we didn’t have to make all these choices because they are hard and heavy.

What if the picture we see as being finally grown up isn’t exactly all the Lord had in mind for His grown up children?

I think that so often we hit a place where we suddenly feel that we must carry ourselves in a full “grown up manner” always.

We must have certain friends that act a certain way, certain things are acceptable and others are not, and the reality is that these are good things to have and to be aware of as faithful and responsible people. We begin to see this new grown up existence in a way that says this must be all of who I am now all the time. I am very guilty of this myself.

What if being “adult” becomes our identity? What happens then? And where is the line of being an adult and being faithful and responsible and adulthood becoming the identity we hold for ourselves and desire for others to label us with as well?

With this adult label we begin to carry ourselves in a different manner with the expectation for others to also carry themselves in the same manner, because now we are all grown up and we should act grown up together. Fun drastically looks different. We only have fun with friends in certain manners, atmospheres, and crowds. We only have conversations about certain things. We no longer express the convictions in our heart simply because we have them, we express them to prove something whether it be our knowledge, our point, or our experience. The adult label is a false identity that causes us to become what we are told we need to in order to be successful and to be seen as something of value as an adult. As children our worth and affirmation from others often comes from grades, sports performances, achievements or even maturity. As adults often we begin to allow our worth and affirmation to come in the job title we hold, how we are seen as leaders, those who know how to walk as adults with great grace, and simply that we are perceived as good functioning adults by others.

Now there is always a time and place for these things and they will naturally begin to happen and in so many ways are very necessary. The word says in 1 Corinthians 13 that we are to put away childish things. But, just what if we focus so much on being mature that we forget an identity that is very very important to our walks with the one we call Savior.

As we look however, there is also an identity that we are told by Jesus to have and to hold too.

Matthew 18 Jesus expresses that we are to become like the little children. We are called to have some kind of element within us that is child like. These two calls clash in such a great way. Being called to put away childish things and being like a child seems like oil and water, how could they possibly ever mix.

I don’t have a perfect solution for myself or anyone else, but perhaps, it is simply setting our identity is being Christ’s little ones, not as grownups who believe and serve Jesus and are marked as Christians. Being that we have a spirit within us that desires to jump out into joy often we find ourselves having moments of uncertainty in how to act. The truth we find is that so often joy overflowing is very undignified in appearance. When do we begin to let go of and begin rebuking the fear of being just that, undignified?

We must walk in wisdom and obedience to the Lord and the convictions in which He has placed on our hearts and in our lives, but we also must not walk in fear of stepping back and being like children in our faith, love, relationships, and even moments. This will look different for everyone but will light up our lives and spirits in ways that we can’t even imagine or understand. It will be an element that draws those who don’t know Him in. They will see a joy that truly overflows into actions and a freedom that doesn’t walk with an escort of shame or fear in not fitting the mold of adulthood that the world provides for us.

Children in so many ways are kind of nomadic in lifestyle and spirit. Truly in my life the people whom I have loved watching their lives move and shape are those who live life nomadic in a way, seeing life as a great adventure that is only going to lead to another adventure. They have been people who aren’t afraid to live in a way nomadic in some capacity. Now, not everyone is cut out for that full on nomadic life most certainly. And I am not talking about an actual physical nomadic life style, although for some is bliss, but more of one of the heart and daily life. We as believers have the spirit of the Living Jesus Christ within us. Jesus was nomadic in physical life style most certainly, but he also had a spirit that was faithful, responsible, at peace and nomadic. This was not His home, and in light of this, neither He nor His spirit settled in to be comfy. He was all those things that bring and commanded authority as a grown man and yet also could relate with precious children, young men and women in the streets. Now, in having His spirit in us we also in some way can walk out in that spirit as well, we simply have to ask the Lord to show us how to do it in the lives He has set for us. This will look different for each, but available for all in some way.

Let us take the name of “ADULT” off and grab with all our might the name of children who belong to Jesus Christ the creator of life, love, joy, fun, laughter, tears, excitement, peace, knowledge, wisdom and all other things that make us who we are as His.

Who ever called it “potty training” must have been an observer, not the trainer themselves. Or a Man. Or previously a dog trainer. Whatever the case, “potty training” just isn’t the right way to put it. I guess lack of better terms may have caused this- but seriously, “potty training” sounds like an orderly event, very practical and disciplined. Yeah. It doesn’t capture the essence of older couples glaring at you when you say loudly in a restaurant, “DO YOU HAVE TO GO POO-POO?” or come back to the table with a naked child because they had an accident in the two seconds it took you to get to the dirty bathroom in Taco Bueno and optimistically you didn’t bring wipes or spare underwear.

It doesn’t capture the frustration (ok, outright anger) of the parent when the child decides he’d rather wet his undies, pants, socks and floor while watching Spongebob than go pee in the toilet. What about the nasty, warm public bathrooms with pee on the seat and random body hair on that little open place in the front of the seat? Or the smells, dear God, the smells? Or the flushing toilets in the stall over that distract? The aching back and shaking shoulders from holding a sitting child upright, the burning calves from squatting?

Or the fact that my child has no force with his pee so sitting down is pretty mandatory right now or we’ll have wet pants and underwear, thus diffusing the reason for which we attempted to empty the bladder IN the pot. Or my insane gag reflex that sends me running, hand clasped over mouth, out of pretty much any restroom. Or just my brain that doesn’t remind me to take him, so even though I want to blame him for not telling me, it’s really my fault, in fact.

In spite of all that, he’s only had 3 accidents in a week (diapers at nap and bedtime). Only one of them poopie, but it was so gross I’m traumatized. He wore a diaper today when I went out, I’m such a wimp. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. Part of me just wants to forget this for now and deal with it later, but I know that I need to bite the ole proverbial bullet and be a man! Er- woman, but saying “be a woman” doesn’t really have the same implications. How much longer will this take? Is there an end in sight? What a disgusting business.

OH, and to Katy, Kim and Wendy- thank YOU for the comments! Stalkers, you suck.

I’ve been sick for like 2 weeks. First it was the sinus infection thing, then Sum got me sick with some bug where I was heaving the contents of my stomach in a most painful manner. I think I got sick because my immune system was down because I was sad about the house. Once again, I let myself get pulled down by an inanimate object. It’s one thing to let people and situations make you sick… wait… that’s not right either… but I’m going to assume you get my drift.

Disappointment. It’s the name of the game. Or whatever, that totally doesn’t make sense but it’s what it flowing from my recently restored mental – Oh my my- I had a word to put there and it’s GONE. I’m not kidding. So, yeah, my mental whatever is obviously NOT back at all. How humbling. I’m just going to get to some updates now that may or may not be TMI. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

- I’ve decided not to shave my legs until I get a new house. I’m protesting… something. I’m protesting the lack of place to do it actually. I counted the tiles in my shower, there are 10 and a little sliver of another one. That is 10 TWO inch tiles. Yeah. So, if my horrible math skillz don’t deceive me, (I got over 30 on the ACT on math comprehension, but only a freaking 19 on the application part- WTHeck,) That would be less than 2 feet either direction. Hold you arms out. I can’t do that in my shower. Now pretend to shave. Need I say more? AND I HAVE A PREGGO BELLY that doesn’t help. Stop judging my hairy legs!

- I can’t find my eye-makeup remover stuff so I look like a raccoon. Not a cute, smokey eyed, pop diva raccoon look alike, more like a strung out crack whore after work. (Sorry about that, but the BIBLE uses the word whore so you can’t be offended at me Bible-belters!) I haven’t worn much make up the last few weeks being that I was so sick and all, so apparently in that time frame I’ve lost the remover. I’ve been trying to wipe all the smears back under my eyes in a more orderly fashion hoping to save some time tomorrow getting dressed before baby book worm at the library. I mean, sort of saving time. I’m going to have to probably wear eye liner again so the smears aren’t so apparent, but I’m not planning on going anywhere really Saturday so I can look super raccoon eyed that day, no worries.

-I either have a huge, painful zit on my back or I’ve been bitten by a deadly spider that is making me write this post, so it’s totally not my fault in that case because the poison has affected my thinking.

- If you are one of the many people that complain that I never write on your blog, comment here now so I’ll just have a quick link to go to there and comment. Or just comment and I’ll comment back, just to be on the safe side of things assuming that you really WANT me to comment on your blog, but that’s not WHY you commented on this one in particular, and you almost didn’t comment on this blog because I wrote all this out and now you are paranoid at how you may come across all needy and stuff and that is OK. I’m cool with needy. Obviously. Because this whole paragraph is about how I really want comments here on my blog because it’s lonely and stuff being that I ignore it all the time and am mean to it so you in turn ignore it too and HOW MUCH LONGER ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE ME RAMBLE ON JUST COMMENT DANGIT!

- I’m potty training Sum. I mean, for REAL this time. Cotton undies, none of that pull-ups nonsense… I’m going HARD CORE. (bets on how long this will last???)

-Ben is looking at house plans to build. (yes, you just saw me point an invisible gun to my head and pull the trigger. Then correct myself saying how it’s not good to pretend to commit suicide ever, especially when you are pregnant. It just seems worse some how. stop doing it!)

- By me saying that I’m potty training Sum, I really meant I potty trained him TODAY. I’ve only been at this one day. Today. and it was OK. He totally pooped in the toilet like 4 or 5 times… which is weird now that I think about it because he usually only goes once… maybe twice. What gives? So, before I realized that weirdness, I was going to finish saying that he only peed on himself once, and that is including riding in the car, eating out with some friends and going on an errand. So my kid rocks. Period.

-When I was pregnant with Sum, I totally bought all this “belly butter” which sounds gross, but it’s actually like a stretch mark prevention cream, and it DIDN’T work at all. I have stretch marks from my boobs to my knees. For realsies. I haven’t even thought of buying any prevention stuff for this baby. Which is a boy. Have I mentioned that? I’m having another boy! YAY! I’d have been happy with a girl, but there is something special about little boys. So, yeah, this poor little boy is NOT getting enough protein either. I can’t seem to eat the stuff. Eeeech. I did everything all natural with Sum and have ate my weight so far at McDonald’s with this one. Speaking of weight however… I’ve only gained like 7 lbs so far. Say WHAT? I know. I gained 60 with Sum, but I guess with that extra 10-15 lbs hanging on, my body hasn’t seen the need to bulk up. So that’s cool.

- I’m totally going to start working out too. Yeah. I have to. I can feel my flabby body begging for a little toning. I don’t see how I’ve lost weight in my sides and hips with how I’ve been eating, but the way I look isn’t reflective of how I’m eating. For the first time in my life. It’s weird.

-I think I have a second degree burn on my legs from the lap top sitting on me. Geez. It’s like the whole frog in boiling water scenario which was used to tell kids …. What exactly? Not to put their lap tops on their legs to prevent burns? I don’t know, but my legs are killing me, my spider bite is probably poisoning me and I’m tired from being sick the last few weeks even though I do, in fact, feel better. Good night…

PS If I die from the spider bite, tell Ben I love him. and my collection of Barbie dolls goes to Katy.

PPS I realize, once again, that it’s not funny to talk about dying when you are pregnant to others, so sorry if I offended anyone. Really. It’s just the spider bite talking now. Or the Mexican food I had for dinner. Or the exhaustion of Sum waking up 2 hours early today. Or the excitement of Texas making a come back… dare I even hope… to win the bowl game?

OK, I promise this is it. By.

Christmas time is over. I feel this slight depression like I missed it or something. This sounds vain and shallow, but due to the economy and the desire to help others more, we decided this year that we would just draw names for my side of the family and not do presents for adults on Ben’s side. So, I got one present. I KNOW, lousy selfish person that I am, I wanted MORE! We didn’t get Sum a present this year because I couldn’t find what I was wanting for him. His Grandmothers’ took care of him though, he got a nifty trampoline that he LOVES and this electronic coloring pad thing that I actually have quite a bit of fun with.

So, in the midst of all the Christmas celebration and cheer, I was wanting the weekend to be over. Not in a Scrooge-ie-I-hate-Christmas-kind-of-way, but Ben and I had made an offer on a house on the 23rd and I was desperate to find out anything. Monday came and went, and now today we hear that there was already an offer on the house. (deflating balloon sound)

The bad news is yes, there is already an offer on this house that I fell in love with and daydreamed all weekend about. The agent lied when we asked her if there was any offers made, then sprung this on us TODAY. The morally arrogant person in me wants to give her the finger (thus dispelling the whole “moral” part of that scenario) and tell her that we won’t play her little game…. but then who is really hurting who there?

The good news is that the house is BANK owned- being the only reason we can even attempt to afford this house in the first place- so banks don’t just take the first offer they get, they could just as easily go with ours. The problem is that the sneaky agent called and basically taunted us with “is this your best offer?”. We have no idea what the other party offered so we have no idea what to offer now! AHHHH! It could very easily happen that we loose this amazing deal on the house over $500 bucks! What to do, what to do. No, seriously, WHAT SHOULD I DO????? Over bid?

On top of my house drama, I still haven’t heard from my pediatrician about if Sum has Celiac’s Disease, or just a gluten intolerance, or just some sort of weird coincidence that when we took him off gluten products, he suddenly got a lot better… very grrrr. SO, I’m in this limbo of buying these expensive gluten free products which I really believe is better for him, but not exactly in our food budget. I hate stress, but it’s my little shadow that follows me, even in the dark when I can’t see it. I want to write some great post, but the words aren’t there. The creativity isn’t there. I’m becoming an emotionally erratic, feelings driven, non-thinking individual who I don’t know and reacts to everything. When did this happen? I hear myself talking, but I don’t know what I’m saying, it’s just stupid gibberish. I fear I will loose my mind, but then I think it’s been gone for awhile and why am I only NOW missing it? Hopefully soon I’ll have something to report and not just more waiting games.

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AFTERWORDS:
…and the other party won. I’d like to think that they honestly won- but after several more informed realtors told us that it seemed suspicious among other things… my creative brain has been in overdrive… but the simple truth is that the house was a GREAT deal. It really doesn’t matter how crooked the Realtor probably was, we don’t have the house and I have to move on. I’m crushed and depressed even though I promised myself I wouldn’t be. I felt it was what God wanted for us, I felt good about it and it didn’t happen. There is nothing else on the market right now so our choice is to either get a house we both really don’t like, rent for a year (which we decided wasn’t a wise financial idea), or stay living with my parents. Grrrrr. Grrrrrr. UGH. Grrrrrr.

Sorry for the whining, it’s been a hard week. I also got PUKED on this morning by Sum. Grrrrrr. I’m going to go take a shower and go to bed. Like I tweeted earlier this week, it’s easier for me to trust God when I’m unconscious…

I have been writing for awhile today, for some reason it’s been a little therapeutic. I put on veggie tales for the kid, then typed my little heart out for about an hour before offspring toddled over and managed to DELETE EVERYTHING. HOW? I have auto save on here- but he managed to turn off the computer and I can’t get it back on. and *yes*, I’ve tried the power button. Whatever, Ben will figure it out. So, the new post I’d been working on so hard may or may not make an appearance here. I don’t feel like trying to re-hash it all out on here now, I’m spent. Instead, here are a few pics from over the holidays…

family picture

In which I deviate from negativity, if only for a post…

I like fashion. I don’t know it personally anymore, since the birth of my child we have been more of loose acquaintances actually, but I’ve always wanted to pick us back up… So, in my efforts to re-become a bit of stylishness, I noticed that everyone in the whole world had cute boots but me. I started shopping literally months ago for some. If you know me then you know how much I hate shopping. I like the results without the work, which has led me to my current state of slob. SO, you see how important this was if I was doing this much legwork.

I was prepared to spend about $100, boots are expensive and cheap boots look it, but somehow I found a REALLY great looking pair for $40 that B agreed on. Tangent: B is extremely picky about my shoes and insisted that HE approve any boots that I purchased, much to my chagrin. SO, I excitedly went to purchase them… and couldn’t find the other boot. Really. After going to like 5-6 stores, the one pair I find that is affordable and interested me enough to actually TRY THEM ON is missing it’s twin. Part of the reason I have trouble finding boots is that apparently I have Ginormous calfs so to find a boot that fits is awesome. To make a long story short, basically everyone was looking for this one, cheap boot and couldn’t find it so I left my number. Never heard from them. Kept calling. Finally, I asked if another store had the same boots and it turned out a store over a hour away had a pair and put them on hold for me. I don’t know why I told them to hold them, it’s not like I was going to drive down there *myself*.

Then I remembered a new friend who lived down there and was always up in the area because her fiance’ lived here. BINGO. Feeling slightly tacky, but desperate enough to make a fool of myself, I called her and asked if she’d mind picking them up for the the next time she was down there. She agreed and I met her fiance’ to give him the money for them. I don’t know these people very well. Ben kept saying everything was OK, but I felt kind of weird still. I felt even weirder when they called me from the store and said the people there had no idea what they were talking about. I felt weirdest still when they said there was another store in the town that the boots may be at and they were going there to look. I kept apologizing, I didn’t know them well enough for them to do all of this. I mean, I’d do it for someone else, but I have trouble asking for help so this was a big step for me. A step that I won’t repeat for awhile. and my boots were there, thank you God. One less awkward moment for me to over apologize for.

Now that I had my boots, I was set. Errrr. Sort of. I had noticed that everyone tucked their jeans in their boots and all I had were boot cut jeans, specifically made to go OVER boots. DANGIT! and I’m pregnant so I didn’t want to go out there and buy a pair of maternity skinny jeans- if they even made them in a store I could afford them- and if I went and bought a regular pair of skinny jeans a size too big, the butt would be saggy to fit around my belly. Besides, Skinny Jeans are for skinny people, the only way I could wear them is tucked into boots, otherwise they would emphasize my rather wide hips and full bottom. This was a no- win situation. I had my nice, cool boots and nothing to wear them with. Since this time, I have folded and tucked my jeans into the boots, but it *looks* like I’m folding and tucking my jeans into my boots so yeah, tacky, but yeah, I’ve totally done it.

I realized, then, that I could also just get some tights and just wear a dress with them. Being that the highs lately have been 32 degrees, this was a very cold option, but I wanted to WEAR MY BOOTS! and so I did it, last Sunday, wearing my boots, tights, a dress and sweater! BAM. Tangent: The only coat I had that matched that wasn’t a puffy coat was one that didn’t zip up now that I have a belly, and no buttons so I totally, shallowly, wore it and froze. I got several compliments on how I looked that day, which I hadn’t had in months which made me feel great! Too bad I couldn’t hardly answer them because my teeth were chattering too much.

Well, tomorrow is the “big day” as far as seeing the pediatric gastroentologist down in LR. I’m actually excited about this, it’ll be so nice to get some answers, or at least get some direction as to where we are headed. Since taking him off gluten products (for the most part) I feel that he’s been doing better. We still haven’t got back the results of the blood work so I’m expecting that any time.

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Do you ever hit that point where you think, “I’m at my whit’s end” or some such hyperbole that you honesty have no idea what it means, then you are distracted thinking, “what exactly does that mean? What is the root? I need to Wikipedia it…” so you forget what you are actually so upset about? I do this all the time. Sometimes I think I should write down what I’m stressed out about exactly so I don’t stress out trying to remember what it was that stressed me out in the beginning… just saying. It also helps when I’m specifically praying and trying to trust in God if I can just tell him everything and get it out of my system!

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To jump off the previous bit- looking at houses is stressing me out too. There are so many- some good deals and some bad. Where we are living wasn’t hit as hard as other places were so the house prices are low, but anywhere out of the city you can get a BUNCH more house for the money. If you are just tuning in, I’m pregnant so inevitably this family is expanding and the question is: With interest rates so low and us getting approved for a fixed one for 30 years, with this housing market being as low as it is, optimistically speaking the prices should go up soon, as should the interest rates… SHOULD we a.) get a house that will fit us now, is more comfortable in our budget that we will probably outgrow in another year or two OR 2.) get a house that is a little less comfortable financially (but doable- not outrageous) in the budget with an extra bedroom and space, but we will not move from for a long time that is secured at a very low interest rate????? And since Summit needs to be close to his therapy center- I’m not superwoman, I’m not driving 20 mintues every day with a newborn just for a larger house- the house prices are going to be more. UGH.

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and no kidding- I just got off the phone while typing this and it was the clinic confirming that he has celiac’s disease. I can’t stop crying.

*This is not a “Thanksgiving” post in the sense that it’s just not on the topic, not that I’m not thankful for all the blessings in my life* (and I’m not going to use the word not again hopefully this much in a single sentence)

Responsibility is one of those things that has both good and bad connotations. It means you hopefully get to do cool stuff but that there are heavier consequences for your actions. Having a child is like that- it’s great, but there is a huge work load.

I crave the easy life. I hate admitting this, perhaps deep down I know that it’s not good for me, but the idea of having a maid to clean and a personal chef to cook for me sounds grand. It’s not so much even the physical things sometimes, although it would be nice. I wish that I didn’t have a special needs child. I wish that I wasn’t so comfortable with occupational, physical and speech therapy. I wish that it didn’t make me die a little on the inside when I see a child a year younger than Sum who seems more advanced in any way. I know that hardships make you stronger, but instead I feel that my hardships have made me weaker. I’m at the mercy of my feelings that I used to be able to hide so well. I am a stripped down, naked version of my former self. I feel so very small and helpless.

I’m not trying to complain here, I think that it’s just that I’m still not quite sure who I am anymore. Sometimes I just want to get OUT but I don’t know where to go so I fold my baby’s clothes and try to not go mad living in this small space. If you think I’m ungrateful for all that I have, you’re wrong. I’m so very painfully aware of all my blessings to the point that I feel guilty when I complain. This blog is more of a venting zone where I can try to get the jumbled thoughts out of my racing mind and make sense of my life as it is today. This blog helps me stay sane.

The newest thing is that we’ve been having this ongoing medical problem with Sum for almost the last year. The condensed version (and probably somewhat incorrect since I forget the exact wording) is that the muscle walls of his intestines are weak- a rather common problem with WS as I have come to find out- and thus his has an prolapse of his intestines. It sounds bad, it looks worse. It doesn’t cause him much or any pain though so that is a blessing. It’s getting worse, however, and B thinks there is no way other than surgery. Perhaps that is true, but I’m going to give the “all natural” approach a try first. After doing research on both Sum’s condition and then finding an obvious link to Celiac’s disease, I’ve decided that we need to do a drastic diet change and take out all gluten products and perhaps dairy too. His pediatrician basically told me that this was possible an option a week ago, but after all the research I’ve done I don’t see a way around it if we want to avoid surgery.

I feel so helpless and angry. I have known for a while in my gut that I needed to do this but I have avoided it because it’s a very difficult thing to do. I have no pretense that it’ll be an easy switch, especially when about 80% of what he eats now is dairy and wheat products. I just want to have a normal life. I crave it. I don’t want this. I want to just be a careless chicken nugget and fries mom that feeds her kids processed, convenience foods. OK, not really, but when I see these other moms, they just seem to have it so much easier, not thinking about what they are feeding their children. and the kicker? THEIR KIDS ARE FINE WITH ALL THE PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED OILS, MSG, FOOD COLORING, REFINED SUGAR AND OTHER “POISIONS” THAT I TRY TO AVOID. Yes, that was a rant. Its just frustrating that I have to DO so much more effort for these non-results. I know my kid will be healthier in the long run, but right now I just want it to be easy. I don’t want to have to think about this so much. UGH. Help. Seriously, help. I need ideas of food that my child will actually eat that is dairy and gluten free. This seems like an impossible task. I don’t want to be the mom who asks what the ingredients are in everything, everywhere she goes.

So, today on a day where I feel that I should be focusing on all the things I’m thankful for, I’m writing a post basically griping about all the things I have no control over. EEsh. My guilt raises it’s ugly head. But this is me. I’m not going to try to say something that is warm and fuzzy just to say it. I want to mean it and most of the time I do. Today though, I’m broken inside. I’m stressed, sleepy and frustrated that I ate around 10,000 calories worth of Thanksgiving food. It’s not been a bad day in any measure, it’s just the post-hype where reality settles in around you like a dark blanket. I can see that it’s there, wrapping and strangling me but I’m not trying to remove it. I just want to not try for a moment because I know tomorrow that I’ll be back in “doing” mode and chase these feelings away until another night when I’m sitting here alone at the computer. I realize I’m not making a huge amount of sense here so hopefully I’ll be back here in a day or so recounting some hilarious story that makes us all laugh…