Pass me a tissue

I have a a very, very dear friend who is going through what I think is a crisis of faith.  She has lived through some really rough stuff and has every right to be angry at God.  Even turn her back on God and question His very existence.  I am angry for her, my faith lags for her.  But see, something happened once upon a time in my past that makes me know God exists.  I never really shared the story with anyone, or my thoughts on what happened, I figured people would think I am nuts.  Was it Lily Tomlin who said, why is it when we talk to God it's praying but when He talks to us it's schizophrenia?

My friend had just had an incident happen right before she texted me.  She said she had to tell me about this thing that happened with a book of faith, a cat, an I-pad, and a highlighted passage caused by a cat paw.  It was a random sort of thing, but in my humble opinion I told her it could be God's way of trying to tap her on the shoulder and remind her that He is there still.  Still waiting to be a mooring of strength during this difficult time.  That's when I decided I would tell her why I believe in God, and why maybe it was His way of reaching out to her, this freaky happening she was trying to reasonably explain.

I know I have mentioned my father and him being sick for a long time in one blog or another.  He suffered with so many different things, lupus, dermatomyositis, replaced heart valves, multiple heart stents, the list is never ending unfortunately.  Anyway one of the problems his lupus caused was pleurisy, fluid in his lungs.  He had to get a chest tube to drain it.  During the procedure, unbeknownst to us, a staff infection was introduced.

My dad made it through the holidays that year, barely.  The staff infection was invading his body and doing it's damage.  My mom knew there was a problem the morning he sat at the table trying to put his bridge in upside down and started to make no sense.  Panicked she raced him to the local hospital, she thought he was having a stroke.  I will not bore you with everything that happened that day.  It was a horrible day that ended with me getting a phone call from my older brother the next morning around 5:30-6:00AM.  If you have a loved one with serious health issues, you know the phone ringing at that time is never a good thing.

I answered the phone that morning, and life as I knew it kind of ended with the answering of that call. I remember verbatim what Rick said to me.  "Dee, dad's back in the hospital.  He's on life support but you don't need to come up or nothing.  He's gonna be fine".

Insert tire screeching sound here......

My mind started racing as did the tears down my cheeks.  I woke Brad up and we decided I would go up to New York ASAP with the two littlest ones.  One wasn't quite two, the other was in pre-school.  He would stay here with the two in school.  I would let him know if they needed to come up and how soon.

I don't even remember how I packed, but I did, got the kids loaded in the car, it was a cold January, kissed my husband and other two ladies good bye and left.  We drove straight to the hospital, took over 8 hours that drive.  But we got there, I made my way to where my family was waiting, it was my brother and his girlfriend who is now his wife, my mom, her sisters, their husbands, my father's brother and some of his cousins.  I knew it was bad by the way everyone looked.  I left my two little ones with my mom and aunt, and tentatively stepped through the automatic doors to make my way to my dad's room.  My legs felt like lead, they didn't want to move. I got there and I wasn't prepared for the sight to be honest.  My father's brother had come in with me.  I grabbed his arm as my legs failed and buckled beneath me.  I had never seen him with so many tubes and wires coming out of him. I cry as I see the image in my head again.....I had to shift my sight to the huge window that took up the whole wall behind his bed.  It had started to snow, these lovely, large, white, ethereal flakes making their way gently down, so pretty behind the starkness of the dark sky.  When I got a hold of myself, I walked away from the window and dried my tears. I asked the nurse who came in to check on his machinery what everything was for.  She basically explained the staff infection ravaged his body.  Systematically and insidiously shut down his organs.  He was on a respirator so he could breathe, he was on dialysis as well, I don't remember much more of what she said after that.  She asked me if I'd like my dad to wake up and see me.  I did, more than anything in the world, at that point I wanted my dad to know I was there.

She was a big Jamaican woman, with a lovely lilting accent, and she said loudly to my dad, "Anthony, (but it came out Ant-honey), your daughter is here, Anthony.  Wake up and see her."  And he did.

I will never forget the look he gave me, how scared he looked, how happy he looked to see me, but I think in his heart he knew he must be in rough shape for me to be there.  I showed him the picture of his granddaughters I brought.  I told him his girls missed him and wanted to see him home soon. The nurse taped the picture on the side of his bed where he could see it.  Then I grabbed the hand with the least amount of tubes coming out of it and held it, I leaned down and kissed it, he couldn't move his head with that thing in his throat, I wanted so desperately to kiss his forehead....

He lingered like this for awhile.  I stayed with my mom with the two littlest ones.  Our lives came and went in shifts.  I would take the morning visitors shift so mom could get some work done, I'd come home and she'd go and take the evening visitation shift.  Or vice versa.  I'd do the cleaning, the shopping, the cooking, I did everything I could to help.

I went one morning shift for her, I had done the evening one the night before, kissed dad and told him I'd see him tomorrow. At this point the nurses knew me, I got several kind greetings before I turned into dad's room.  When I walked in my dad was awake and had NO tube in his throat!  I was amazed, I grabbed a nurse and asked what happened.  Why did they un-intubate him??  He was barely awake the night before, what was going on??  She told me to ask him.

So I did.

He couldn't really speak, the tube had been in his throat damn near two weeks and had damaged his vocal cords and esophagus.  I asked him what happened???  He pointed up.  Then he sort of hissed an answer to me slowly.  The gist of what he hissed and pantomimed was he told me he took the tube out himself last night in the middle of the night.  He told me God came to him the night before. Touched him and woke him up. Told him to take the tube out of his throat. That he needed to be able to talk to us before he died.

I ran out of the room and called my mother immediately.  She rushed to the hospital on the news.

Then another miracle occurred.  His kidneys started working again.  Just like that, the damn things started doing their job.  They stopped the dialysis.  He started to get better, good enough to be moved to a regular room within a weeks time.

Good enough for me to shave his face again, and even clip his toenails a job mom and I used to flip a coin to see who had to do it before when he was too sick to do it himself.  I sat and held his hand and watched TV, me yammering away about his granddaughters.  Just happy he could hear me, he was awake and every now and again he could hiss an answer to me.

Before you know it we started making plans to bring him home.  Mom was going to get him an aide to help because he was supposed to go to a rehab facility first but he begged my mom not to and to let him go home.  Of course we made plans to do that instead.  I made plans to go back to Virginia and see my girls and come back in a week for a few weeks again and help mom.  I'd do that as long as I needed to during his rehab.

I remember the last time I saw him, I remember the last time we held hands, I remember the last I love yous spoken between us.  Something that my heart wraps around every time I miss him, hearing his voice, seeing him....

We got the phone call that night around 3am.  He was crashing, I heard mom say, "everything.  Do everything you have to to save him."  By the time we got to the hospital

he

was

gone......

Long story short the staff infection had invaded the defibrillator implanted in his chest to keep his heart beating regularly and it failed to work.  His heart stopped that night.......never to beat again.

But see, I believe God did go to him.  Did tell him to take that tube out.  Did make it so he could let us know how much he loved us.  I also believe God knew my dad had suffered long and hard, long enough.  He knew the struggles coming up for my dad would be more than he deserved to bear, so he called him home. Rewarded him with the paradise we are all promised someday.

And I got that last I love you everyone always says they wish they had when a loved one leaves this world.  I didn't have to wish.  I got mine.

We all got the gift of those few weeks of dad being able to be with us again.  I was blessed beyond measure to receive them.  Call me schizo, but God talked to my dad, God blessed us all with his grace those few weeks.

So my very, very dear friend, do I think the cat paw accidentally stepped on the particular passage that was highlighted?  In a  word?

Nope.

I think the Lord has a way of reaching all of us that makes sense to us.

I believe he made this little creature you love as much do his mouthpiece. He is reaching out to you with an innocent creation letting you know there is a Kingdom where no numbness exists.

Ball's in you court now, do with it what you will......or let the kitty bat it around for awhile. All while you wait for the next tap on your shoulder.

Friday the 13th, why Friday, why not Monday?

My daughter Katie and I got laughing about that last night.  Why is Friday the 13th scarier than say Tuesday the 13th? I quite personally believe any Monday is scarier than a Friday the 13th.  Monday the 13th I think is the scariest day of all.

I used to be superstitious.  I would drop salt and have to throw some over my shoulder.  Never remembering which shoulder it was I was supposed to throw it over, I would toss it over both.  I watched a show about how superstitious hockey players are a long time ago. Phill Esposito, one of my favorite Rangers, had this whole pre-game ritual he had to follow or he couldn't go on the ice.

I see it with our team.  I hear tale of some of the ways the guys have to get dressed or do things before a game.  I would imagine me just getting there in enough time and getting into my gear would be my whole ritual lol.

I can remember my Grandma Tav having this whole thing she did, short of curling up in the fetal position, if she spilled oil of all things.  Who ever heard of such a thing?  She probably just made it up, really what on earth is going to happen if you spill oil?  Will your skin get oily and  break out? Will your food never fry right again??

But that's my point, superstitions were made up by someone looking for an excuse to explain something bad that happened.

My best friend was killed in a car accident on Friday the 13th.  Was it the day that caused that accident?  No, I think not.  It was the driver of the step truck who failed to follow the speed limit posted, couldn't stop in enough time at that red light, that hit her from behind.  It was the fact that old cars didn't have the safety features that new cars have and her vehicle crumpled up like a used tissue.

Some superstitions are common sense.  Like walking under a ladder.  Why would you want to do that? There is a good chance there is something on said ladder that could fall and hit you on the head.  Or the ladder could fall over on you and I am sure that would leave a mark.  Breaking a mirror is dangerous too. Not because of the bad luck thing but have you ever gotten a shard of glass in your foot?  Or sliced yourself on a piece of glass? It hurts!  Open an umbrella in the house?? That's like running with a lollipop in your mouth in Motherland. A huge no no!  You'll lose an eye or choke to death...Wise reasons to follow stupid superstition.

There was a documentary on maybe Discovery about how dangerous superstitions are.  The gist of the documentary was that yes they might seem harmless but it was a belief in superstitions that sent how many people to their untimely deaths in Salem, Massachusetts once upon a time?  That had hoards of black cats massacred in the middle ages, that have albino children killed in Tanzania to this very day....they can be truly dangerous.  Broke me of the need to believe in them after I saw it.

So relax people it's just a date on the calendar.  It's just a black cat crossing your path, go ahead and open your umbrella in the house, scratch your palm if it's itching and step on that crack or line, I bet I won't look like Frankenstein.....knock on wood.

I have a lot of nothing to say today....

I was sitting here, staring at my computer trying to work.  But my work is utterly boring.  All numbers based, and for those of you who know me, I am more like the socks I like to wear to CrossFit

I'm not the all making sense and calculatable type like my work.  I have never been the numbers or spread sheet lover, and it's all I've done for the last 11 or so years.  Regardless.

There are thoughts in my head just dying to make their way into this world so I figured my blog about nothing would truly be about nothing and everything today.

I have been up since 4:30 with hungry, yelpy, thirsty puppies.  As I stumbled downstairs to clean their pen before the kids started making their way down, I was grousing away under my breath. I was none too happy to see the little babies at this early hour, until one put her paws up on my leg and looked at me with her brow all furrowed as if to say, "why so grouchy Mama, you always pet us and love us when you see us first thing". Alright my heart melted and I pet the little beast and her sisters, gave them all big dog biscuits to gnaw on after their breakfast was done, and went to sit for a few before I had to hit the day. Clock on the wall says it's now 5:15ish.

As I sat I realized it would be the optimal time to make lunches so I decided to get up and do that instead of just wasting time, Timex time? 5:30ish.  

A few more minutes of sitting, I watched the weather and thought another Africa hot kind of day, then I went and woke everyone up.  Your time according to my cable box,  6:00am.

TA-DA  My day has started.

I made myself a cup of coffee, started cleaning out the sink, ironed a shirt my daughter wanted to wear today that I remembered on the ironing board. Go back to scrubbing the cookie sheet from last night's cookie bake, put the dishes in the dishwasher and dry off my hands.

I run back upstairs to make sure everyone is awake, it's now 6:30 only to find my 11 year old asleep still and her bus is coming in 20 minutes!  Get her clothes together, her hair done, find her tooth brush, make her a bagel with peanut butter, run upstairs to get her a pair of socks while she packs her backpack and grab two puppies from the pen who are crying and need to go out.

In the meantime my two high school daughters had come down, made some breakfast, walked outside to the car and bid me goodbye and off they go in one of our cars to another day at the "best high school in the nation" according to the morning announcements.

I sit on the stairs, I am tired, and start making a mental checklist of all I have to do today.  Thankfully there's no soccer on Wednesdays.  I have to get my work ready for my accountant, I have a mountain of laundry in my laundry room that needs to be addressed.  There are pictures that need to be rehung since we got the house painted, the floors are in dire need of a vacuuming.  I think I know what's for dinner tonight, so I can get that ready before I go tonight and that will be good.  I am recovering from straining my back a week ago, so my workout will be light and easy again today and I stayed home from CrossFit so I wouldn't even be tempted to try today's awesome workout in honor of 9/11.

I pop on FaceBook and Twitter because I need to waste time like I need a hole in my head, but some times, that escape into my cyber world helps maintain my sanity and think I wish I had something worth value to blog. But I don't and I want to write so here I sit, trying desperately to think. 

I put my Beats on, listen to some music that usually peps me up, the Steve Aoki remix of Kid Cudi's Pursuit of Happiness is where I start because I was listening to it yesterday and never finished. This song makes me smile for whatever reason. And music tends to be my muse. Not today.  I think my brain is too tired.

I got thinking is it disrespectful for me to blog such blandness on a day like today?  It is 9/11 and we did live through such tragedy.  I will definitely pull out the 9/11 box from under my bed and let my girls leaf through the newspapers, magazines etc. that I have kept in a time capsule for them someday. Like most horrific historical events I know this day will never be forgotten, ever. I will remember every moment, frozen in frame and in time, from finding out what was going on to, to finally reaching my dad in the City and telling him to get home because he will never find a train to get home with everything going on, to worrying about a cousin who works in the Pentagon, to going to church and sitting with all of the other dazed people, crying and wondering why there is such craziness in this world, all the while holding my then 2 year old and hoping for peace in this world for her and all of my other girls someday. But the business of living is exactly what we should all be doing so I guess I will continue to write.

I have my spreadsheet open now, I open it without even realizing that I'm doing it.  I change the dates and get ready to enter the numbers that stare at me and mock me.  Taunt me with the banality that is the bookkeeping chore in front of me, and settle in to work and my blogging has to be done.  The creativity that demanded an outlet is quashed, not allowed to continue.  I have to be a responsible adult now and work.

Someone deliver me from the land of numeral Hell....

My creativity is sadly curled up in a corner of my brain not to be bothered right now.  Shhhh, be quiet! I mentally yell at it as I pick up a pink pen and start doodling my favorite doodles....

Femmaballs

No idea what that means, I believe I have them, but it's a term we came up with this past weekend when I met some friends in Dallas.  We had a raucously good time.  A couple of women and my new gay bff because like in Kick Ass, a girl needs to have one of those, just cutting loose in the land where everything is bigger. Parties definitely and fun included.

It was like a giant slumber party.  What girl doesn't love a slumber party?  It conjures up the images of a bunch of females all giggling and staying up into the wee hours of the morning.  Secrets are shared, startling truths spoken out loud....

This big girl slumber party was no different.  It was amazing when I think about it.  The similarities all the same, except now the secrets are more than, "I like Brad and we kissed behind the Shoprite last night". And we don't have a mom yelling upstairs, or down, wherever we might have been sleeping, to quiet down and get to sleep.  There was some jumping on the bed, me singing out loud in the morning one morning to wake everyone up, the secrets juicier,  the boy talk wayyyy past who was cute, the drinking legal now and way more copious.

The women I met up with came from this group of friends that I met online when the Twilight craze hit.  We all managed to meet on Twilight Moms, I cannot believe I just admitted that out loud haha!! But we did meet there, in this secret part created called the Basement.  You had to ask to join the Basement and wait for approval.  When I saw this section of what was a rather innocent website I requested to join.  There was one area of the Basement I frequented, The Barge, and this is where I met my buddies.  We had so much fun there, getting rather randy being able to hide in our secret world.  Then, just like that, one day when I went to access the Basement, it didn't exist anymore. Our section got unceremoniously booted off of the site for some reason!  Although my friend I met in Dallas for the first time proudly admits she told them she was leaving because they were fricking Twilight Nazis.  Basically you had to listen to their drivel about these books or be shunned, which was what happened to the rest of us. So there I was, staring at my computer missing these women I had been meeting every night for how long??  I remember telling my husband I felt like someone punched me in the stomach.  I had come to regard these woman as my girls.  People I could let down my hair down around without fear of condemnation.

Then I got an email from one saying they created a site for just us. As one of my friends said, I remember this quite vividly, she felt like "Johnny no mates" after she got kicked off of Twilight Moms.  We had formed this bond, we had fun together.  And then Facebook became all the rage and we formed a closed group on FB where we all still meet every day.  Just checking in, commenting on this or that, posting pictures we like. Sharing problems we are dealing with.  A support group for the demented!!

We are a motley crew.  We live all over the US, plus England and Australia.  All different walks of life and professions, different ages, some married, some not, some with kids, some without.  And every now and again there will be a meetup, where our virtuality becomes reality.  That is what this weekend was all about.

Two of these women I had met already, and meeting another one for the first time.  But it felt like, when I hugged her when I finally saw her face to face, that I had known her for years, and after all, I have.  Toss in a friend she brought, who I loved to death, and another of her friends, my Papi, and our weekend was complete!

I won't bore you with the details, but this was a slumber party on steroids.  One that was borne from a Twilight basement that lasted for days that included, Bloody Marys, Patron, Sake, Grey Goose, Blue Moon, Lotto Moscato, me rapping Big Sean for Donell, gay bar hopping until the wee hours and people partying it up and rocking harder than they had in a very long time. It was an amazing few days to remember, or sort of remember, or maybe we should forget, and one where I really can't share any pictures from. Although there are a few Vines that no one will understand and make me belly laugh every time I see them.

When I mentioned to my friends I was thinking about blogging this I promised them all the names would be changed to protect the innocent.  And one chimed in, what about the guilty?? I had to laugh.  That is sooooo how we think!

We were certainly guilty of total debauchery this weekend.  It will easily take another almost 2 years to recuperate. I think my liver packed it's bags and left for vacation after Saturday night.  But recuperate we will.  Smile at the goofy stuff we did, laugh with each other as we share even more big girl secrets we created from the trip.

All in all, a successful DB meetup, and of course we started planning for our next one before we even finished this one.

Anyone up for NOLA, 2014??

My First Kiss Went a Little Like This....

Ah, first kisses....romance's first blush on someone's face perhaps bringing about the first meeting of lips.  It should be such a memorable thing.  Happily it was for one of my daughters.  A boy she has been rather smitten with in what seems like forever gave her two first kisses that were as she described, "magical".  That made me smile.  How quickly that magic is fleeting for our kids anymore.

When she called me to furtively whisper into her phone the details of said smooches, whispering because her friends were around and she wanted this for just my ears, I have to admit I smiled for her.  Happy in the fact that her first kisses were exactly what she had dreamed them to be....

It got me thinking of how I dreamed my first kiss to be. I had hoped my crush at the time would decide I was beautiful.  A girl that he saw in his mind's eye all the day.  That he would try to talk to me, take me aside, maybe walk with me and hold my hand.  Profess how much he liked me maybe, and then sneak that first kiss I longed for.

Alas, it was not at all like that as I remembered mine. I was hoping to find the butterflies that my daughter did, but there were none of the good kind.  It wasn't at a formal, with me in my princess dress, looking just stunningly perfect, slow dancing with the boy of my dreams.  

I guess the kiss was memorable, I can remember who it was with and remembering being scared out of my mind.  It was during a game of spin the bottle at my first boy/girl birthday party in the sixth grade I think it was.  The bottle kept spinning and hitting everyone else, then the guy I had been crushing on, the one I wished so desperately would like me back, spun it and it landed on me.  He kissed me and it was over pretty quickly.  

But how I held on to the details of that kiss. Nothing magical really to report. Being the awkward, overweight, and not nearly as attractive as my contemporaries girl in my class, it would be a long while before I received another.  I was hoping my crush would decide he couldn't live without me, that my daydreams about him would come true but it was more like "ack, I've been kissed by a dog!  

Ok, maybe he didn't run around wiping his mouth off, screaming in horror, but his reaction definitely wasn't one like he was seeing skyrockets and fireworks because of his lips on mine.

Was it wrong of me to be secretly pleased that my daughter's first kiss wasn't like this?

She's only 13, well almost 14, I guess she's not that young, but in my heart I know I am truly thrilled her first kiss was nothing like mine.  That when she is listening to her daughter call her and tell her about her first kiss, she will conjure up these happy memories.  Her heart will jump a little remembering it, a little smile might play across her lips. I hope that my future granddaughter will be able to tell her first kiss tale as happily, and dreamily, as my daughter told hers to me.

Well I guess my first kiss was not picture perfect.  Not nearly as beautiful as my daughter's.  My memories didn't make me smile, blush a little, and relive that moment in teenage girl bliss. But I guess you never forget your first kiss now do you?

Today is not my Un-birthday!

Since today started out so beautifully even before I woke up, I understand the heavens tossed handfuls of stars to make it rain like glitter, when my alarm went off my husband made me turn it off and stay in bed.  No morning routine for me today!  WOW!!  As I lay there snuggled underneath my comforter all downy and fluffy thoughts started swirling around in my head.  This blog was born as sure as I was on this day!

I have everything I need and most of what I want, I am blessed that way.  When my daughters asked what I wanted for my birthday that is what came tripping from my lips.  Really I don't need anything, but I did say to them, what I wanted was a day I didn't have to ask anyone to empty the dishwasher, pick up after themselves or be a referee.  A day with no bickering or back sass would be nice.  Perfect gift, just the right size and that is what I truly want.

I wish for a world where the least of my brothers and sisters, animals, children, the eldery, differently abled, the homeless, know love, kindness and mercy that we are supposed to show one another. Especially those that are weaker and/or less capable than we are and truly need us to help them.

I would love it if my dad would call me with my perfunctory old phone call.  Every year, without fail, I'd get my "you're getting old kid" call.  I would counter with something like, "when did this happen dad??"  Then he'd tell me to be grateful I woke up another day, lived another year because, "the alternative is worse".  The world according to Bubby (my dad's nickname), I'd say to him.  He always had little nuggets of wisdom to share and not a day goes by that I don't wish I could hear him pop one off for me....

I want the world to be a better place for today, so my friends instead of getting something for me, do something on my behalf.  Practice one random act of kindness to a stranger today, it can be small and simple, but something that makes someone smile.  It is already Earth Day, let's make it People Being Good to Each Other on Earth Day.

As I am mentally blowing out my candles and making my wish I wish for it to be a good day for everyone today too.  I want it to be a good hair, awesome outfit, light is always green, primo parking place kind of day.

And if anything good like this happens for you today, let me know because that would be an amazing gift to give me, to know that my friends are sharing in my good day too.  It will make my birthday more amazing than it already is.

Happy birthday to all of us!!

I want to rock a white tutu..

Yeah, I'm a typical female when it comes to emotions.

I am an emotional eater.  If something upsets me there is nothing a chocolate chip cookie, or a dish of ice cream or maybe a slab of chocolate cake cannot fix in my mind.  Notice how I didn't say some carrots or an apple would help..Probably why I struggle with my weight the way I do.  But, as always, I digress....

Another emotional thing I like to do is shop.  Shopping is a lovely form of therapy that doesn't add to my waist line.  Yesterday I took my girls shopping.  To soothe the sting of not freezing our asses off in Minnesota for Spring Break, my husband surprised us with a trip to Fort Lauderdale.  Of course that meant we needed some new stuff to beach it up with.

I took two of my girls with me, nothing like shopping with your daughters.  We love going to places like Ross's or TJ Maxx to see what kind of bargains we can scare up.  That's typically our first stop.  This trip was no different.  You know you're in trouble when you send them in ahead of you while you take a phone call, you get in and they say to you, "don't freak out when you see all the stuff in the cart...."

Anyway, after much picking and loading of the cart, we headed towards the dressing room.  You could only take 8 items in at a time so I volunteered to stay with the cart and their other stuff.  As I was standing there a flash of white caught my eye.  I looked down the aisle I was standing at the head of to see a little girl, maybe 4-5.  She obviously picked out her own outfit, I have to applaud her mom for letting her, because she was dressed in a typical little girl's dream outfit.  She had on a pink top, black pants, silver shoes and the piece de resistance a big, white tutu.  She had these crazy curls that were wildly flailing around as she danced to her own private Swan Lake while her mother perused the aisle.  I had to smile, and even wanted to clap when she was done with her little dance because her mother was oblivious to a performance I would chose over any of Anna Pavlova's.  Then I watched as my girls came out of the dressing room one at a time in this outfit or that.  I saw them tugging, pulling and readjusting what they had selected to try on. Rarely dancing their own Swan Lake in what they picked.

It got me thinking, when do we lose that confidence as women?  Why do we stop wearing wearing white tutus and silver slippers in the same outfit?

When do we stop loving what we are wearing and how we look so that we stop dancing our own private ballets in public?

As I came back to reality, and I watched said little girl begin her dance anew, it made me wish for my teenage girls to have that little girl swagger.  The "I'm taking over the world wearing a tutu so nah nah nah on you" bravado.  Sadly the time is so fleeting from what I have seen from my own girls.

This time I did clap as she curtsied to her imaginary audience.  I gave her a brava!  She smiled and went by her mom obviously pleased that someone liked her performance.

It made me wonder what would happen if we all rocked that tutu a little longer?  I want my very own white tutu, I want one for each of my girls....

Well Now It Hurts, and I'm Not Touching it...

We interrupt the blog post I was previously writing to bring you this news flash lol!

I went back to St. Francis today.  Dr. DogFur called the Dr. at St. Francis that wrote my radiology report and told him he didn't agree with what was on there.  The Dr. at St. Francis did not concur with Dr. DogFur.  So they decided that I would go back to St. Francis for yet another ultrasound, then, if it was necessary, a biopsy.

This sat ok with me.  I didn't like the thought of waiting six months and getting a recheck.  What if this is a thing, as my cousin called it? I let it grow inside me for 6 months.  What if it's an aggressive thing?  I wasted 6 months not beating it into submission.  That is just not something I was willing to do.  So I went back.

I had to be there at 8:30.  Brad came with me, I needed him to be with me in case I needed the biopsy. I have been wrestling with getting a needle stuck in my boob. Definitely didn't relish the thought of that.  They called me back.  Brad and I got up to go back and the nurse said, "sorry he can't come with you."  I felt like the floor dropped out from under my feet but I thought that was just for the ultrasound.  There are many women back where they were taking me getting mammograms and such, must be they didn't want some random guy back there.  Surely if I need this biopsy he'll be able to be with me.

Nicest radiology nurse though, she took me to a cubicle where I could "undress from the waist up" yeah, I know the drill.  Robe opens in the front, I'll open the curtain and let you know when I am ready.  I start undressing and there is the mirror there.  I am staring into it, watching in some kind of macabre fascination at the woman who is getting changed in front of me.  I am looking for myself in this reflection, but I see someone so unfamiliar.  Scared, alone, feeling out of control.  I shook my head, closed my eyes, wrapped my robe around me and slid the curtain open.

The Nurse came and got me, she sat with me and explained how they were doing the ultrasound first. That maybe the first one was wrong if the surgeon, Dr. DogFur, didn't see it.  She had me drop the right side of my robe and she proceeded to ultrasound me.  There it was, plain as day.  Foiled again I thought.  I was hoping Dr. DogFur was right, but that was not the case.  She put a towel on my right side to cover me up and said she would get the Dr. who would be doing the biopsy to come in.  In the meantime we chatted away.

What a nice woman this radiology nurse was! Her name was Carrie.  Her fiance is in the Navy and he's stationed in Florida and he's a Crossfit enthusiast.  Anyway, that got me started, yay!  I have something to talk about so I can forget I am laying here getting ready to have my right boob skewered.  She mentioned I was in great shape, I told her it was because I did CrossFit and that's when she told me about her fiance.  I told her how much I loved Crossfit Midlo, the owners, the coaches and the people that I worked out with.  All in all an amazing community.  She countered with she wasn't in good shape and how could she possibly keep up with everyone.  Oh, give me the chance to expound the virtues of CrossFit!!  Like I said, she got me started, and I spent the better part of 20 minutes telling her she needed to get herself to CrossFit Midlo and get involved in what might be the best workout she's ever done.  I needed this diversion!

Finally the Dr. was done biopsying the liver he was working on and came in.  Nice guy, young, sheesh, I should have asked Doogie Howser for his credentials I was thinking when he said he was going to do one last ultrasound.  My boob was a pro at them by now.  Ok, hit it at 11:00, and there it is, once again.  He put the wand down and said he didn't feel comfortable just leaving this alone and not figuring out what it was, we were proceeding with the biopsy.

.......I WANT BRAD HERE WITH ME NOW!!! But nope, that was not to be.  Bad experiences previously when they allowed supporters back during procedures.  Now, you had to go it alone, there was that woman's reflection from the dressing room mirror again......

Then he said to Carrie get the kit out.

gulp

Didn't that sound ominous?  Ok, this is happening I realize.  They are going to cut into me and I am getting this thing biopsied.  Sweat started blooming across my forehead.  I remember stupidly thinking, I'm glad this isn't a mammogram because then I wouldn't be wearing deodorant and with me sweating like this, no bueno...my mind switched gears, came back to the present and I was watching Carrie get the stuff out of the kit. I saw various syringes,  other things that weren't easy to identify from my vantage point.  I watched the Dr. gown and glove up and I suddenly thought I didn't eat breakfast.  My breathing was getting a little more rapid and my vision was getting a little wavy as he snapped his gloves on and he swabbed me down with Betadine.  I wanted to scream to stop, that I wasn't ready, I wanted time to think about this, I wanted Brad.  Him putting a sterile drape over my breast got me realizing time was out and I needed to suck it up and just do this.  Enough screwing around and waiting I said to myself sternly, the Dr.'s voice jolting me back to reality.  He said he was going to use the ultrasound wand to guide his instruments to do the biopsy, first he was going to numb me.

I asked him to hold up for a minute.  That I needed a second.  I told him I was nervous.  I didn't like the thought of him injecting anything there and I was going to be talking, a lot.  That Brad and I joke around that girls talk as much as we do because we hear voices in our heads and we talk to drown them out.  That those voices were screaming like fools in my head right then and they would have to hear me chatter to drown them out and calm myself.  Carrie and the Dr. thought that was right funny and laughed like loons at that explanation. They assured me that was fine, do what I needed to do.  Then I told the Dr. he would have to tell me everything he was doing because I am a control freak and I couldn't see over the drape and that would keep me sane.  Another round of laughter from the audience, thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week, try the veal...

Ok, I am injecting you with the lidocaine now....

Maybe it was my eyes, maybe it was my hand reaching instinctively for Brad's and he wasn't there, don't know really, but Carrie came over and grabbed my hand and held it.  I relaxed and the Dr.started his work.

I can't say it was bad really, I have been through way worse.  On a scale of one to ten, I'd give a ten, it had a good beat and I could dance to it hahaha, seriously though, I'd give it a 4.  I was really ok, especially after the initial injection.  The end was uncomfortable when he got a second sample of the mass, I didn't like that very much, but it was ok.  I didn't even know when I got my little Titanium marker inserted into the mass.

After I got cleaned up, my incision was glued closed.  Carrie came over and said it was still wet and I couldn't get dressed so I started blowing on the glue to dry it faster. Carrie was laughing at that and started fanning it with her hands as I blew.  She knew I wanted to get out of there.  After a few minutes I was allowed to sit up, then after she made me sit for a few minutes I was finally allowed to stand.  I had to go for another mammogram, to show the Titanium marker and I was done.  I got dressed, looked at myself in the mirror and wondered where that other reflection was.  She wasn't there, I saw myself again and I was glad.  I kept staring at myself thinking only good news was coming my way.  That I was going to fall into the 75% of good new recipients.  I just want this behind me.

I went back to the room where they biopsied me and Carrie was still there.  I thanked her for helping me get through the way she did.  For talking to me, distracting me, and holding my hand.  I hugged her and told her to look up CrossFit Midlo.  That way I'd get to see her again. She was a genuinely nice person and I could see myself being friends with her.

I went out into the waiting room to find Brad.  He was in the corner dozing off. I guess there was nothing good to read lol!  When he smiled at me, I knew I was ok.  He helped me get in my jacket and we walked to the car.  I calmly told him everything they did as we walked along, we got in the car and I promptly burst into tears.

Where the hell did that come from?

I guess I needed to release.  I was so busy joking around, trying to keep myself in control during the biopsy, deal with all the merry-go-round nonsense these last few weeks that those tears got buried and wanted to get out.  I breathed in and out, Brad hates to see me cry, and I gathered myself together.  Brad asked if he could take me for a green tea Frappucino and I readily agreed.  Nectar of the gods those damn things are, I figured I earned one.

So now we wait.  It's only two days.  I will hear something by tomorrow.  I have been jerked around so long it was nice to know I only had two more days to go in this waiting game.

But I know in my heart I will be in that good news percentile.  I won't let it be any other way.  And if you could continue to pray for me for this outcome, I would appreciate it.  These past few weeks' events need only be good fodder for my blog and nothing more.

As always, I will keep you posted.  I can't wait to get back to my regularly scheduled life.....

Go to Hell, I've Been There and it's Painted Federal Blue

Yesterday was the day that was supposed to ease my mind one way or the other.  The day that could potentially change my life. Instead I walked away more confused than anything.  Let me explain.

My appointment with my surgeon was at 10:15, we get there with a good 10 minutes to spare.  We pull in front of a building with a "For Sale" sign on it.  That should have been my first clue things weren't going to go well.

Anyway, we go inside and it was painted the colors of a young boys room. Federal blue and Burgundy.  Made me think it needed heavy,  dark wood furniture, toy soldiers and a choo choo train toy box somewhere.

We go to the elevator and push the button.  We are only going to the third floor but my legs felt a little wobbly and I didn't want to take the stairs.  We waited, and waited and waited.  Finally Brad suggest we take the stairs or I was going to be late.  I agree.  Big mistake.  It's like Monday night at Bingo smoky in there (don't know if any of you went to Bingo as a kid with your Grandmother, but if you did, you'll understand).  Gross...

We get to the office, I go to the receptionist desk to sign in and see a stack of boxes and such that a hoarder would be proud of.  Floor to ceiling stacked and looking messy.  My mind starts clicking into business owner mode.  As one of the aforementioned, I know that first impressions are so important.  If one of my businesses looked like this, well, one of my businesses wouldn't look like this....'nuff said.

I go sit next to Brad, I won't mention how archaic their office equipment was, or the handles missing from their cabinets behind the desk, nope, not bringing those up, and I finally get called back.  The nurse who takes us back keeps referring to Brad as "my helper" and proceeds to piss off my already rattled mind.

I am put in an exam room with an office partition and small desk crammed in there, there is a nurse on the phone who gleefully explains she was "displaced" from her desk and this is her office.  She apologizes for being in there and proceeds to stay talking on her phone until my history is done by the other nurse.  Brad is standing there looking around like we must be in the wrong place...

The other nurse leaves and the Dr. comes in.  Again, first impressions get me.  He is in his scrubs, that looked ok, but it's the ratty navy blue fleece covered in white dog fur that got me.  For real?  Are you really wearing that seeing patients?  Couldn't you at least vacuum yourself or something?  Please tell me you don't biopsy wearing that....

He gets to the exam, and then says he wants to ultrasound my breast.  Fine, he pulls over the wand from an ultrasound machine that Brad later joked with me "Didn't you see him bang the side of it a few times to get it started?" and I said it should have had hamsters running on wheels to power it it looked so old.  He is zeroing in on 11:00 o'clock, like who knew boobs could tell time, because that's the vicinity the radiologist saw the mass in.  And.....

He can't find it.....

He did tell me he could show me Mickey Mouse on there though.  Thank Goodness, that made me feel worlds better.

I sit up, I'm done and say, "so there's nothing there?"  And he basically tells me he cannot find what the radiologist saw.  My head is spinning.  I saw it on the mammography, I saw it on the ultrasound at St. Francis, and he couldn't find it.  He didn't look any farther than 11:00 on breast.  Did that make a difference?  I asked him about my scary radiology report.  About the mass with irregular borders, about the Bi-rad rating it received.  He said that he couldn't agree with the report since he didn't see what the other Dr. saw but that he would call him and discuss.  That St. Francis's would be calling me, for what?  I guess another ultrasound?  That I need to go back to St. Francis and get biopsied there.  That this is small enough we can watch and wait even, say what??  Come again?

Done, you are now dismissed....by Dr. Dog Fur.  Have a nice day.

I walk out trying to be happy, thinking this is a good thing, but nothing is settling with me.  After awhile of chewing on all that just happened, I finally say out loud to Brad everything that was bothering me about my appointment.  I decide I am finding someone else to see.  I will get another ultrasound at St. Francis, I will take my results and I will go to another Doctor and get another opinion.

I will not watch and wait, I will be proactive.  And as always, I will keep you posted.

I Thought I Was Ok....

So, as you all know, I have my appointment this week for my biopsy consult.  I was asked to get my referral, get my radiology report, get the CD of my mammography sent to my surgeon. Like a good patient I went ahead and made all of my necessary phone calls to get the ball rolling last week.  I called today, just to make sure everything was sent and of course nothing was......

WTF?????

Really??  I made my phone calls, did what was expected of me and for nothing.  So I made a whole new battery of phone calls today.  First one, I was leaving my message for the referral coordinator at my primary care physician.  You have to leave a list of info as long as your arm but it was the last part that got me.  You had to leave a reason why you needed the referral.  Ok, I start to leave the reason why and my voice got all quivery.  I had to clear my throat several times to be able to leave that part.  I must be hormonal I think, shaking the bad thoughts out of my head.

Next call.

This one is to St. Francis Medical Center. I need a CD of my mammography.  I get transferred to Mammography and the nicest woman answers the phone.  She pulls up my chart, and says, "You had your mammography done on January 29th.  Is that the one, oh, no wait, I see you had something, you needed to come back for more imaging.  Ok, I see that you got an ultrasound too.  I can have your CD ready in a half hour, is that soon enough?"  I tried to find my voice to say yes.  But it wasn't there, it was caught, all knotted up. I coughed several times and apologized.  I explained we had a cold in our house, and thanked her.  I got off the phone with her and chastised myself.

What the hell are you doing Danielle??  Nothing is wrong here! NOTHING!!  But still, I have tears trickling down my cheeks.  Tears of worry, tears of what ifs, tears that I have pushed so far to the back of my mind because I don't know what's going on and I didn't want to waste a minute of worry on them.

Still, they come screaming out today.  The dam burst and they flow.  This is just so stupid, I am angry at myself for this momentary weakness.  This is nothing.....

But I find myself upstairs in my bathroom.  Staring at myself in the mirror, naked from the waist up, I've been here before.  And maybe that's the problem, I have been here before.  And maybe that's why I'm scared.

VD, big deal

Sounds cynical doesn't it?  Valentine's Day is really no big deal in my humble opinion.  I don't need one day a year to love my husband more than I do every other day.  Oh, yes, you got me flowers today because it means you love me....Puh-leeze....Every day is Valentine's Day for me.  I use every day to show my husband how much I love him, that I appreciate him.  And he makes me feel like the most beautiful woman on earth every single day.  He doesn't need February 14th to do that.

But then I saw my daughter get excited over buying Valentine's Day presents for a friend.  She announced to me that she and her friend were getting each other gifts because they don't have male interests right now, and wanted to do something nice for each other.   I thought that was pretty cool. I got thinking of my friends.  I realized something these last few days. I have more friends than I thought.  More people who say I mean something to them.

So my Valentine this year will be my friends too!  See, I never knew just what everyone thought of me until my recent health scare.  After I blogged about it people started getting real with me.  The loveliest sentiments came pouring in from everywhere.  I was called an amazing woman by so many, strong too, who me?  How can it be?

I am loved, admired and respected by people who I look at in awe most days for the things they can do. These are the amazing people and here they are saying such beautiful things to me.  People said that I made their world a better place because I am in it.  But how, I don't do anything....Just how do you respond to comments like this, "Know that you are a blessing to many Danielle!  I am better because I know you...", or "I know you will be fine.  You are too strong and loved not to be...." or "I've worked out enough with you and know you are crazy strong!" or "You are wonderful and strong and surrounded by people who love you..." or "you are an amazing and strong woman so many many people love and support you..." or " I would have hugged you longer" or "we will stay positive for you"  or "prayers and positive vibes coming your way..." to simply "I love you".  I even had a comment from a cousin reminding me I have my grandmother's blood coursing through my veins. She was a tough old bird.  She faced adversity how many times in her life and was the most fantastic woman.  I DO have Nanny's blood in my veins, I will face adversity again and come out ok.

But oh how these words from these people touched my heart.  My eyes got all rheumy trying to type them, that big, old knot taking up residence in my throat once again, rendering me incapable of speech without tears dripping from my words.

I have nothing to give any of you that were so kind to me when I needed it most.  I wish I were a millionaire. I would take you all away with me.  Somewhere warm and sunny with beautiful beaches and tropical drinks. I wish I could repay you for the joy, happiness and warm fuzzies that have taken up residence in this once despondent, scared and worried soul.

I know, no matter what the outcome of this biopsy is, I will truly be ok.  How could I not be with all of you wrapping your invisible arms around me and carrying me through my despair?

Thank you everyone I wish I had more to offer.  I sadly do not.  I can offer you my sincerest gratitude, and love.  And if you ever need anything, let me pay forward your kindness.  I owe you all big....

Does it Hurt? Then stop touching it!

That phrase came to mind today as I stood naked from the waist up, manhandling the hell out of my right breast in front of a mirror.  I was feeling for whatever it was they said was potentially wrong with it.

It Starts....life has a funny way of sneaking up on you when you think everything's ok and everything's going right.....

Rewind......

I went for a mammogram less than a week ago.  I received a letter from St. Francis Medical Center saying something to the effect that it showed, "a finding that requires Additional Imaging studies for a complete evaluation" please call this number, blah, blah, blah....So I called.  I wish I could remember everything the nice nurse from Radiology said, but alas, I cannot.  She did say the radiologist saw part of my right breast tissue was different from my last screening.  I don't remember the rest.  My mind started racing trying to understand.  What was that you were saying?  Yes, I will make my appointment ASAP Ma'am....and with that she transferred me to scheduling.  I go today at 2:30.

See, I've been here before.  Getting tests done to see if there is something more ominous brewing.  I thought I was ok last time too, but I hit that jackpot.  I got the phone call asking me to come to the office ASAP for my results because I couldn't get them over the phone.  No one ever wants to hear that.  So now I go again. I am running through the same emotions, same thing telling myself it will be fine.  But will it?

I keep telling myself not to fret, this is nothing.  But that little voice keeps whispering in my ear, "yeah, your body betrayed you last time you thought it was nothing".  I thought it was only one debilitating disease per customer.  I have MS, isn't that enough of a cross to carry?

The day after....there has to be a morning after....

So I had my mammogram done.  Nicest lady with the coldest hands got to handle my right boob. We did other angles.  She explained to me that sometimes tissue lays on top of tissue and gives the appearance of a solid.   A solid?  Oh, ok, can I faint now or later?  Unfortunately it was not the case this time.  I could see the area she was talking about no matter what angle we took the image at.  Off to the Ultrasound room. Again, lovely nurse there.  She explained how ultrasound compliments the picture taken by the mammography machine.  She did it once and told me to sit tight.  She needed the radiologist to come in.  We did the ultrasound again, this time with him in the room.  He had her freeze a particular shot and he turned the screen towards me.  "There, right there, that's what we are looking at"  as he pointed to what was an obvious difference in the image.  He explained to me I had a solid mass in my right breast.  Small, about the size of the tip of his pinky.  But there it was all the same.  Amazing how something so small can have such big ramifications.

I walked out of the radiology department to a waiting 17 year old daughter who wanted to come with me since my husband was out of town.  She asked me what happened and I wished with my whole heart that I could say it was a mistake.  Just a shadow on my image.  But instead I explained I needed a biopsy. I tell her it would be ok, wanting to believe that with my whole heart.  I texted my husband who was in a meeting in Buffalo to tell him to call me when he got out.  Called my mom because I didn't want my youngest to hear the conversation I was about to have.  "hey Mom, yeah, just got done with everything...........no it didn't go as well as we had hoped.....cue the massive hiccup and sob coming out of me........they found a mass in my right breast is what they called it mom.....no we're not certain what that means right now....he did say if it was anything serious it was caught early enough and extremely treatable.....I settled down after a mile or two of driving.  Got my wits about me, realized I lost it in front of my 17 year old like a blithering idiot, and made myself get positive.  Only that image must have stayed with her.

When we got home, after my 10 year old went outside, my 17 year old  sat down in the living room with me.  We started talking the "what ifs" of this situation.  Although we KNOW it will be okay, I needed to let them know that even if we get some not so wanted news after the biopsy, I will carry on.  I will be okay.  I have wayyyy too much to do here, way too many people who need me, I can't go anywhere and I won't.  I'm good like that.  So anyway I told her if it came down to it, and I needed chemo I would shave my head.  My way of controlling the hair loss thing.  That's when my billet son looked at me and said, "you shave your head, I shave mine"  Then Katie said she would too. Meanwhile another boy who works out here, came in on the middle of this conversation.  He asked what was going on and I decided I might as well tell him, because really this is nothing. I calmly stated they found a mass in my right breast and he looked like I punched him in the stomach.  His face dropped but then he said, I'll dye my shaved head pink too Mama Robinson (that's what they call me).  Was I wrong to be so touched?  These kids are wanting to share in this, wanting to help me through my scary time any way they can.  This made me smile.

I go to my GYN today for my well woman visit.  To schedule the biopsy.

later in the day....whatcha doin?  Nothin chillin at the Holiday Inn.....

Biopsy scheduled for 2/21.  A ways into the future.  Two weeks to be exact.  But it's with a skilled breast surgeon.  It's his first appointment available.  I keep telling myself it's ok to wait.  Whatever it is has been growing in my breast for how long now?  Another two weeks is not going to make or break me.  Besides I KNOW this is nothing. Just some stupid fibroid something or other that decided to take up residence in the mostly unlikely of places.

I think about getting this done.  I don't want to have a needle stuck in me there.  I don't want them to cut a piece out of my breast either.  I don't want any of this to happen!!!

                                  STOP!!!!!!

If only life worked that way.  So I wait.  I wait to find out I'm ok.  Because I won't be any other way. Because I have so much to do, because I tell my girls all of the time I take care of myself the way I do because I don't want to leave them because I love them so much....I wait.

Today...is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you...

And I chronicle all of this.  I don't know why, I guess writing is my way of coping.  I share this hoping that I help someone, somehow.  Maybe your day wasn't going as well as planned, but really in the grand scheme of things it's probably not all that bad when you really think about it, right?  Maybe some of you have had to walk down this road with either side of the biopsy results and have sage wisdom for me.  I am still dazed and confused and carrying on.  But I keep telling myself this will all be ok, this will all be ok...

I know not all of you are religious but I am.  Don't know if there's a true religion or one God listens to over the other, so I ask for all you to pray for my strength whether it's to God, Allah, Wicca, Buddha, or Neon Korean Baby Jesus, just pray.  I could use your help.

I promise to keep you all posted.

.....and all the roads we have to walk are winding....

I thought I knew me didn't you?

I tell my kids, after I do goofy things like the Swim from Alcatraz, that I do this stuff because I want to be an interesting grandmother to their kids someday.  None of this, "hand Nanny that skein of yarn please," for me. But when I take time and think about it, this isn't where I'd thought I'd be someday.  Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, but I wonder how many people sit back, and think, "Dayum!  I am exactly where I imagined myself to be at this stage of my life".

If you knew me when I was little and round, I wanted to be a mommy and a doctor.  Only kid on the block that had a pen pal relationship with Dr. Michael DeBakey.  Look him up if you don't know who he is, but he was my hero.  Oh I wanted to be a heart surgeon, or brain surgeon, or some kind of doctor, I still do.  But here I am surrounded by all things hockey and ice in the most unlikely of places for it too.  Like I said, not necessarily bad, but definitely not what I had planned.

Did I imagine myself marrying as young as I did, meeting my husband as unconventionally as I did, surrendering to love at first sight like I did?  No.  Actually when my best friends and I imagined the marriage scenario for all of us I was the one voted least likely to be married first.  They would be married way before me.  I'd be this fabulous woman, with her equally fabulous career, jetting in to see my friends and their families.  That amazingly successful Aunt Danielle with this amazingly enviable life.  Yep, as off base as I could get there once again.  Married at 22, started my family at 24. My amazingly different life from what we all imagined it to be is, well, amazing to them and me when I think about it.

When I lost my vision in my right eye almost 20 years ago, I would never have imagined all that came next.  A generic trip to the eye doctor yielded some fairly un-generic news and altered my perfectly generic life forever.  There's nothing like calling the doctor for your test results and being told you need to come into the office ASAP to get them.  There's nothing like hearing you have a potentially devastating neurological disorder, nothing like trying to reorder your life and priorities, scrambling like a mad woman trying to grab on to some semblance of order.  Nothing like thumbing your nose at your prognosis for as long as you can gleefully checking things off your bucket list along the way, like marathons, Ironmans, fondos, Swims from Alcatraz....

Four kids really?  What am I a clown car creating kids?  I'm not necessarily as bad as that Dugger woman with her uterus that is begging for retirement at this point, but 4 is almost a litter by my family's standards and all four of the same sex?  Well like my father said not every one can produce kids with plumbing on the outside Dee!  So my husband is truly the king in this castle, a Sultan with his very own harem of adoring females.

Owner of three businesses that have nothing to do with anything I dreamed about being?  Although I have to admit the Carvel is pretty sweet, both literally and figuratively.  Anyone who grew up in NY knows just how awesome Fudgie the Whale and Cookiepus are.  Now I can have them and Cinnabons any time my black heart desires. I feel like a crack dealer pedaling such food stuffs, but I can always soothe my guilt with a Thin Mint Dasher and forget about it.

Seriously doing the bookkeeping at one of our locations, payroll for the 2 others?  Please, numbers are my nemesis, we've been at odds for awhile now.  They bore me, they need to be more pink or purple,  have some ra-ta-tat-tat-tat, ta-pocketa, pocketa....But alas, they are woefully deficient of anything that interests me, so here I sit surrounded by all things numbers in my every day job.  The irony is staggering.

It's funny how life works out isn't it?

So no, I suppose I'm not where I'd thought I'd be.  No, not mending hearts or brains.  No, not with a fabulously enviable life that has other women drooling as far as I know unless they envy the craziness that is my home.  The filled with kids coming and going, feeding the masses, dealing with the noisiness that is never ending, breaking up bickering matches, doing loads of laundry that I have to scale like Mount Everest, chasing after two dogs, 5 kids, a husband and 3 businesses and living at my supermarket life that is most undeniably mine.

But it is a wonderful life I have as I sit and think about everything I have been graced with.  I may not be what I thought I might someday, but I am surrounded by all the people I love. It is a wonderful life indeed, and I didn't need a Clarence to show me.  Nope, not a failure at all, no woman can be a failure surrounded by family and friends.  Well I need to run and answer the door, I believe I hear a bell is ringing....