The solidity of family

It's a trying time, as emotions blue and true run through my veins (or elsewhere, who cares)...making me account, what, with all I'm already under? Can't get a straight thought sent out there, all arrows pointed my way, attacking.

Memories of recent times, a whole year back. Everyone's here, my daughters, sons, hubby-for-life...can't be everyone to everything, I'll try though. Incoherent, stumbling, though I am. It's just writing, take it personally.

Be family.

Poke, poke

Pretending to be needles. I can't even believe how good a day I've had, got so-o-o-o much done!!! Won nothing, no nominations for anything important anyway. Besides, I'm sure I'd lose with my luck and all. More fun chances for everybody who's not me.

And that's what's important in a wreck of a day. BEST DAY EVER, I said. Quietly to myself before I paused and didn't think about it (too busy). Wish I could go, just glad you even asked.

Until December

Carrying a baby to term, with no outcome that involves changing too many tiny diapers and all-night long feeding/burping sessions...kind of leaves the saddest place inside. My instinct is to step back into that familiar pattern, being a mom of a newborn, you know?

But my life goals involve staying open to the feedback/advice that suggests I wait until December, or late winter I should've said. Feels better than the names of months that start to haunt me after awhile. See that cracked space? Me, broken.

I'm not really worried about it because I'm learning more about myself within communities than ever before. Starting to hold the burn in my heart when it comes, and it's sitting more willingly lately, while I ponder the curse of time.

Days, weeks, months, years...can't delete their existence. Can only keep walking forward waiting, waiting that whole entire time, for the pain to lessen, for the peace to hold.

So much for the cabin

Husbands working too hard for their own good, trying to cover EVERY base, wouldn't want the responsibility if I were paid for it. Being flexible, and looking forward to a Sunday with church, keeps our family in top-working order.

I've been juggling this beat for more than ten years. Good at it, too. All my days are spent with a three-year-old buddy making strides in her confidence. She trails me around, asks for eggs at every meal (which I make in the microwave), my dynamite girl.

Nothing like knowing I have three little knockouts who are fully-creative entities, worth the entire investment...to send into the world. Three Sisters I say to myself with great pride. Two brothers, still getting to know that dynamic, but they'll thrive.

Believe in your best life is the ONLY mantra I have. So balance, COME BACK!

Try it

Many times throughout today, at open gym, while hanging out with Maddie, while working on the basement...I just feel so lucky in life. My kids really do know they're loved and they are given as magical a childhood as is possible. Romance is good for a family's dynamic, no matter the good intentions involved.

Don't know why I said it, but meant it. Celebrating other people's celebrations of life is a grace given to us, also. I know those moments are mine, when I hope everybody's feeling cherished, under God's good graces. I can live with that honest.

Rambling u today, just lovely. Some parts of me are cracked open, so what, working towards an integration of my whole entire soul.

Invisible blog

Sometimes it's the only thing standing in the way. What's to say about a typical weekend, no assaults to my devotion or anything unbearable like that. Letting it go anyway, because it's how I probably am. Or does that involve too much scrutiny?

Not sure today. Just glad I accomplished more than my half for once, gaining practice in becoming that better wife I've been planning to be. Now that my dad's left I can see backwards more perfectly...filling in strange blanks how I feel like it.

Nothing more complicated.

And now...

the cookies are complete. No seriously, like a minute ago done. Had to blog it. Will now have to offer more, which immediately leaps to the conclusion that one CAN blog too many times in an average day.

Of course, yesterday was even less average than today, so what does that show? Not much really, except obsessions like these exist all across America. And is it healthy? Shall we ask ourselves again?

Is it healthy moms everywhere, to blog this much in a row in a day? Even if one is a poet with heartstrings that...can't even think of a poem if she wanted to. Just a statement on the doneness of cookies.

So done. A-n-n-d-d-d...DELICIOUS!!

Dear Scientists

My daughter's fingertips are only eight years old. They are beautiful and precious and the only ones she has. If it were as simple as providing NEW needles that were less sharp, or somehow more sharp but less hurty, I'd be almost grateful.

Really though, more than anything...we'd like the real cure.

The U-curve

Statistically, it's a U-curve or actually a BELL curve. So don't go all smart-ass and decide it's a U-turn, which I'd never. If ever I find myself in a U-turn situation, I stand still and DON'T turn. Because USUALLY, the curve will burst open an unnoticable bit, and permit a glitch.

Glitches are where miracles reside, just know this. Being sure and certain both, that my place is more often at either end of the U-curve, instead of safely comforted by middle-way huddling. I need to invent a new shape, that's all it is.

Because the bubble that holds it all...the free-time to study what I can't know intuitively, the respect of my children who'll never band against me, maybe freedom IS a limit. Maybe THAT'S my faulty thinking.

An EARNED place one arrives at, a professional surrender of all...here's your freedom to think, act, and be. Yeah, that must be how it's always worked, just decide not to see, but to be.

In Diabetes Land

You know, I never give NEARLY enough attention to dads of diabetics. I mean, there WAS the dad of the NEWBORN diabetic who sought the original cure. Because well, imagine injecting a newborn with insulin, and testing his little teeny fingertips, and um, balancing that with formula or breast milk.

Great photographer and possibly an architect, I might add (GREAT JOB!!!)

Who else? This gal, at least I'm assuming, diagnosed at age SIX and living with it ever since. If ever a person can LIVE with diabetes, and pretend it's not dying. Oops, did I just say that?

Yes, I did. Oh, a loser investing in WordPress (wouldn't recommend it). Major Bedhead...cute blogname for a diabetic's Mommy, no? And she keeps lists.

Well, filled with information, as diabetics always are, and gives PRIZES. But my favorite is obviously this REGULAR MOM about to give birth through c-section. Feeling guilty about that choice, calls herself "a failure" just like me.

NEXT...and the last.

Now we'll NEVER find the cure!(!!)

Bunny ears, don't forget. Sometimes Easter just can't get here fast enough, you know? And a tail...for all the unnecessary drama caused in a perfectly average life. Or else!!!

If Steven Colbert hadn't already shaved his head for the troops, and Kelly Ripa woven a perfect North Dakota accent into Lady Gaga's rah-rah, and Daniel Merriweather made me feel less alone in my aloneness...then.

Yes, then. Always how it will be, so there.

Minimally Ironic

So, again...this is the OTHER diabetic I spoke of recently. Sure, parents get pretty pissed-off when you publish pictures of their kids online...but I don't think the SCABS would've stood out as much, if I didn't take the chance just this once. And, the racial inequality story would not have hit home nearly as well.

How do I keep this from being long...? Well I guess, I'll just start with my sleepless night at the Sofitel, and my plan to start a NEW blog, under a pseudonym. Yes, that one. Of course, that was precipitated by SHEER TERROR as I imagined my impossible position...which is WHY SHOULD I KEEP BLOGGING, when my KIDS COULD GET KIDNAPPED!!! And killed.

Started sweating then, hence the NEW blog that would save me.


What's this...a birthday party? Why yes, Jessica...three of them LAST MONTH! Sorry, forgot to share all the fun. It was fun though.

The future of diabetes

Let's just all pray for a moment that my daughter doesn't have to wake up with a blood sugar of 45 again, for a very long time. Too much insulin, like not enough, will do that to an innocent child abandoned by any community that COULD HAVE done something, but didn't.

Let's pray also, that a mother's guilt, from a diabetic daughter's numbers being often in the 300's, where it really should never be...let's just pray that the cure really IS out there somewhere, waiting patiently in some laboratory for approval.

Let's pray now, that the damage being done to her insides, you know, where the heart and kidneys, and such essential organs can be injured by too much or not enough sugar in the blood...let us pray, to the Lord Jesus Christ...everybody's savior, that a longer life span IS NOT the detriment to flexible systems everywhere we have tended to believe in the past.

Amen.

Dried apricots dipped in marshmallow fluff

Do you think the diabetics would approve? The rainman of flossing...another good one. So glad I just think of these witticisms off the top of my head. I'm a GENIUS!

Reminds me directly of the hygienist I toyed with just yesterday, oh yes I did. Left her office with TWO STAINS on my teeth, I am coyer than Alice, believe me. She had her microscoptics on, feeling all doctorly...(insert Alice's fantasy of being raped by my hygienist here).

Kept asking me questions that she KNEW I couldn't answer, but then admitted,...yes ADMITTED...that she's totally a dominatrix.

That's why I left.

Fantastic, celestial, and boisterous...

My trio of librarians are trying to help me expand my vocabulary, successfully I might add. Can't trust them completely however, as a NEW LIBRARY is looming in the future, sure to cause many many refutable arguments among the ranks of city council.

And, until my husband works less for his health, finds dreams to support HIS talents...and um, understands fully why Catholics (why yes, I heard this from my doctor...A CATHOLIC) don't use IUD's (abortions in disguise). Then, well...

I really WILL become a nun if anything ever happens to him. Because I just might be qualified, I think.

I've lost all my motivation...

but with the help of the gymnastics center, I'll find my Hitler boots still fit just fine. It's funny how wrong a person can be about themselves within the span of an hour. Took only that long to realize that I'm about as anti-social as Tina Fey...yet as willing to terrorize all the innocent moms about me, with the mere act of birthing five children or more.

With a secret one in there I'll never have to admit to, don't even have a single picture.

I don't know exactly what urged me to attend open gym with Madison today, perhaps it was my plans to go that began over two months prior. Yes, I knew it would take me that long to get my ass in gear, because being responsible for the reproductive health choices of all the women in my small town (through storytelling and friends in pastoral places)...takes that long.

I'm so glad to not be a homeschooler. Not being a homeschooler spares you automatic and unfair judgement, it provides a handy level of trust that says "I'm just like you", even when you'd never. And plus, all those teachers in common to defend your good character...afterall it's the fruits that sheep go by, not the evil that lurks in there.

I love evil. At least, now I do. It's going to take a little extra time to get pregnant however, as one cannot keep attending open gym and pretending to be natural friends to everyone once her toddler gets too grown. Being fruitful takes planning.

Untruths

I figure, I'm standing around here with nothing much to write about...yet thinking. Why CAN'T I compartmentalize some things in my life, writing from my heart takes nothing away from the experiences I have experienced.

Everybody knows it's more than enough to trip over the same word twice in the same sentence, as if EVERYONE does it all the time. They don't. So, I have my Cooper memories, and they are cherished. Doesn't mean I'm moving on so much, as moving forward.

It's just what every New Year needs, a conviction to move forward no matter what. It's all in God's hands anyway, as we've seen over and over again. Like He'd have my nurse be the exact same sign language interpreter from my church...as if my pastor wasn't MEANT TO come in and lure me to Africa to save the world with him.

It's how it happened, not making it up. He supplies the mission trips, I supply the unfailing enthusiasm. Also, the recommendation that he pump up the service a bit, you know? Like, add some moving graphics and video to the Christian Rock hymns up on that there screen.

Other than that, perfect service. I mean, we all know how the devil works, don't we? Takes ANY opportunity to make his way into your life and deceive you? Full-on convinced Ashton Kutcher that being a puer eternal is his best angle...and his manhood DEPENDS on it. So sad.

That's right, look it up Ashton. But this devil lately, well I never. Me, being of the sunnier skin gradation...I see Leno and Conan battling it out up there and I'm thinking, BOXING! Just like I predicted. A little glimpse here and there, just in time, of those BOZOS I've come to know and love, but never get a damn chance in hell of seeing.

And suddenly, I'm sitting in a hospital bed being showered in idiocy!!! I completely missed seeing the devil in the details, so caught up was I. The devil, well, pay attention as if your livelihood depended on it...because it does.

You know how some fools are stupid enough to believe in superstition? Totally against anything suggested by God in the Bible, I know. As unfortunate as thinking good and bad luck must happen in threes, as if fractions never had a chance on earth to give Jen Aniston her own shot at Late Night!

Fractions are REAL, people. Point is...some people have an innate fear of loss that they can't overcome for the life of their souls. Maybe it has something to do with mayonnaise and fences, for all I can make up on the spot, being so creative like God is, er, I am.

But, if someone's worst fears were to come true EVERY TIME, then what reason does God even have for supplying Ashton with the mosquito nets in the first place? Hell if I know. But it's a tangent, and you know how I love those.

It's all good

Cooper James

January 12th, 2010 ~ 7:36pm

a beautiful night spent

January 13th, 2010 ~ 6:00am

More information than anyone needs

Softening and effacing is the theme-o-the-week. How do I know? Well, it ain't from attending last week's doctor's appointment, which I cancelled because I can. Checked my own self in the shower, the initiated understand how and why...and so do the unassisted birthers.

What do I know about bucking the whole entire system for the sake of learning something essential about my rights as a patient, a parent, and a woman in general? I've only done it more times than my sister's "oversight" could bear. Everything I do is to spite that satanic woman, and you can read all about it, on here.

I used to LOVE women, never sexually like Drew, however. Until the betrayal just went on too long, the games never satisfying the self-appointed "in charge"...bossiest bitch on the planet, if you must know. Can't be the boss of my weekends, however, those belong to the calendar. Fault the mathematical leanings of the Mayans.

FYI, contractions can sometimes feel exactly like anger that needs releasing, so there. I just blog for me, everyone knows that, who actually knows me. When I have a laptop at my disposal, uninterrupted, as was evidenced some past weekend...I type alot, and fast.

When I have only the library to ease my thoughts, lift my heartburn, and convince me I'm making a difference, I blog less. It's okay, suits me and my family. If I had unlimited computer usage, I'd have already written every thought that came to mind, thanks to the universe's prompting.

The universe, being mostly comprised of sex-enslaved children who aren't actually enjoying the holidays as much as the multi-billionaires with tourist-y tendencies would have you believe. Energy-redistribution, fairly...theme-o-the-century. I've less time for decades than being mad at my psychotic sister and all the women like her, believe me.

So, I blog. Too much on some weekends, not enough all the rest of the time. See? Well, I'm also a rebel, as is allowed, and in some countries necessary. My head was held so high when my "sister" printed up everything I've ever compiled on-line (not sure how she tracked me)...and sent it lovingly and devotedly...TO MY PARENTS, and siblings!!!

Yes, pure-bred insanity. Maybe, everyone's gotten over their "protect yerself from social services" issues, wa-a-a-y before me. Perhaps, it's the only motivation I actually have in life...to think harder about what my purpose is on earth, and spite-to-the-death what others would tell me.

Who knows. I'm having a baby this week, or next, or sometime after that. And I somehow manage to accomplish IT ALL, raising children, having a healthy marriage, writing my thoughts down at the library and hoping they land SOMEWHERE. But no, I haven't really enjoyed every moment of my pregnancy.