Please Don't Chase Boys like your Mom did: A Proposal Story.

The part of my parenting that is "do as I say, not as I do" I would like to chalk up to imploring my worldly wisdom to Natalia. As Maya Angelou stated "Now that I know better, I do better". I love her, God rest her soul. 

This is the story of how Jeremy and I came to be an official "thing". I'll take the "official" once step further and tell you how I convinced Jeremy to propose to me. Jeremy doesn't really like change. If his life is going really well, it takes a lot of convincing to get him to make a big move that would create a shift in the matrix. Natalia, this is how the proposal for daddy and I came about:

Daddy and I had dated off and on throughout high school. This in itself is a long story that I will tell you about when you are older. It's cute. At the end of high school daddy and I were exclusive after I convinced him to start dating me again. This is an important part. I went after him. Had I not, you would not be here and I would not have had my "happily ever after". The summer after our senior year of high school I left for college in Nashville, and daddy and I carried on our long-distance relationship. After a year and a half of school in Nashville I decided (that I was out of money) to move back to Georgia and go to school locally. I didn't have a car, so daddy came to pick me up and move me back home.

I had been TELLING daddy that he was my "one" for a year. The one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and who I wanted to marry. I also let him know that I would like to get engaged and that I was getting a little anxious that our relationship was going on two years with no promise for the future. Daddy and I had been friends since we were 14, so he knew that once I set my mind to something, there was no swaying me. At one point he told me to relax and that he had it under control. 

When he came to pick me up we loaded up my small amount of stuff into his mom's red Nissan Sentra. All the boxes and garbage bags of clothes were loaded and I was making one last sweep of the room and saying goodbye to my friends. When I was in the room, daddy started in on this monologue about how we have been friends for a long time and that he thinks I'm this great person...... He's not really a great speech person when he is nervous. I kind of started to tear up because he sounded like he was breaking up with me. Then he got down on one knee. This was the moment that one of my dorm mates walked by the doorway. She gasped, squealed (because that is the noise that teenage girls make), and then ran off to get my other friends. Can you imagine this was before social media and cell phones?! We actually had to tell people in person or talk to them on the phone about our engagement. Crazy, I know. 

There is one thing about this story, Natalia, that I really would like you to steer away from. I don't know why, but I guess it has to do with the way I was raised. I was always taught to "let the boys chase you". I actually adhered to that advice with every boy except daddy. Well, except Sam in kindergarten. I chased

him all around the playground. There was a point where I had broken daddy's trust while we were friends, so I had to really work to convince him to date me again. Once I realized that he was the guy I wanted, I had a singular goal and evidently he couldn't resist me. I love that. 

I just took a personality test for one of my classes and I fall into the "Idealist" category. According to the studies, only 15% of the population are in this personality group. I mean, there are a lot of idealistic people, but your mom is pretty far on the spectrum there. No, I'm not delusional, but this is why I am such a Pollyanna. Here is why it helps me and what I want to pass on to you. If you have a dream there is really no reason why you can't just go after it. Daddy was my dream and I chased after him until he succumbed to my charms. I decided I wanted to go to college out of state so that is exactly what I did. I owed my soul to the government for a while in the form of student loans, but I did what I dreamed. I decided within a month's time that I wanted to be a nurse practitioner so I filled out the application and here I am, mastering along. One of the doctors I worked with was surprised that I only filled out one application for one school. He asked "What if you don't get in?" My response in all sincerity was "Why wouldn't I get in?" This is the way your mom thinks. Things just work out. There is always a parking space available near the front if you take the time to look for it (this is an inside family joke).

Okay, back to boys. It's hard when you are starting to realize that you want boys to like you, but you don't want to be the girl who is the only one doing the "liking". Here's my advice: Know what you want, but make them work to understand the kind, smart, funny, quirky girl behind that beautiful face. Beauty will only get you 5 minutes, brains makes up for the other time. There is nothing wrong with being pretty, but you better have sustenance to back that up. You are fortunate to be naturally pretty, so find a boy who will tell you how smart you are and genuinely mean it. Your parents know it. We don't even bother to Google the facts you give us anymore because we know you are right. Math is not your forte, but math isn't the end-all of intelligence. Find your dream, set your mind, go get it girl.

Setting Boundaries

Last week I got one of the biggest compliments I could ever ask for. I didn't even have to go fishing for it. My graduate professor and I were on the phone discussion something very grave, but in the course of the conversation she brought up that she thinks I am a very good writer. I really needed to hear that. We have to write research discussion posts every week and a full research paper every other week. I looked it over and between my two classes I write about 20 pages of research "whatever" per week. That's a lot of thought throw-downs. Anyway, it was a huge compliment for me. A few years ago I got into it with some girl on facebook (I know, stupid already) and she was very talented at hitting a sore spot. She misinterpreted a comment I made and decided to throw jabs at my blog. My comment had nothing to do with my blog at all, but her barbs really hurt. Part of me is kind of in awe at her marksmanship because it STILL hurts. I tried to not let it get to me, but then I noticed I stopped writing until recently. You see, I have a problem with boundaries. So today I am going to write about something I suck at, but try really hard to get right. Boundaries are hard for everybody. I mean, if we all had good boundaries then it would be easy and we wouldn't have to feel so damn uncomfortable saying "Um, could you please get off my toes?!" 

There is a book I recommend to EVERYONE. It is Boundaries: When to Say Yes, How to Say No to Take Control of Your Life by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend. It's a total easy read and some of the chapters I skipped over because it didn't pertain to my life. Get it, read it, and keep it around. It is especially important if you have girls. It's not that I'm saying we are genetic doormats. I just know that we like people to be happy and sometimes our boundaries get blurred if we don't have them set up right from the start. Think dating (ugh!). I wan't to know how to teach this stuff to Natalia now before she tells me "Oh my gosh mom! Drew asked me out to the movies and Panda Express!". Life goes fast. Boundaries include not letting Drew steal her lo mien just because he is cute. 

Okay, saddle up because I am going to get heavy on ya. I'll keep it brief, but this all ties in to why I am a crazy mama about this boundaries stuff. I want to premise all this with I know most of us have dysfunctional families on some level. Some of it puts the "fun" in dysfunction, some of it puts the scary in the dysfunction. I hear all of you. My family background is not a secret because it's not my fault nor was it my responsibility. Besides, everyone I talk to usually has some sort of situation, so I am never in the minority.

There is actually a "thing" called Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). What cracks me up the most about this disorder (we must find humor in all things) is it is the one of the only psychiatric disorders where all of the family/friends will seek treatment except the person with the disorder. Here is why: One hallmark trait to NPD is lack of insight and empathy. Like all spectrum disorders, there are varying degrees to NPD. All of us are a bit narcissistic. Seriously, look at me. I am totally narcissistic or I wouldn't bother putting on fake eyelashes or glitter. The extreme end to this disorder is NPD sociopaths which we see in the media like serial killers. I'm not kidding. It's fascinating. There is no rehabbing from this disorder because, again, there is no insight or empathy. People who are involved consistently with NPD people must choose to either cut them off completely or set up firm boundaries. I guarantee you have known a person with NPD. Want to know the criteria? Of course you do because it is kind of fascinating. Besides, true NPD's will insist there is nothing wrong with them - ever. Don't feel guilty for looking.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder characteristics: 
from http://counselinginsite.com

• Responds to criticism with rage, shame throwing, or humiliation
• His/her goals are a priority and will take advantage of others to achieve those goals
• Excessive feelings of self-importance
• Achievements and talents are exaggerated
• Person has preoccupation with fantasies of extreme success, power, beauty, intelligence, or ideal love.
• Unreasonable expectations for favorable or special treatment
• Constant need for admiration and attention
• Lack of empathy for others and disregards the feelings of others.
• Obsessive self-interest
• Pursuit of selfish goals

A lot of these we all do on some small scale. I totally believe that MY car should be let in at the last second in traffic, but I completely pout when I let someone else in front of me. Yes, I have that "Evil Queen" thing going on right now because I think it is funny. Do I really believe I am a queen? No. I wouldn't eat so much ramen salad if I was royalty. Like I said, it's a sliding scale and we all fall on it somewhere. I'm talking about the extreme spectrum people. People who are empathetic, kind, giving and helpful will draw more NPD people to their lives. It is important to take inventory of who you are so you keep your heart safe. Proverbs 4:23 says "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." Even if you don't believe a lick of the bible, this is still sage advice.

Let me give you a real life example of boundaries that I use. Natalia will get all dramatic over not getting her way (because she is 11) and start to dramatically (ie. loudly) cry. I tell her that she is allowed to be upset and cry, but I don't have to listen to it. If she wants to talk about it, she can come up to me when she calms down. In the meantime, she needs to go somewhere else where I can't hear her. Bam! There is my boundary. Is she all, like "Of course mother, I will respect your boundary and go cry like a crazed banshee in my room." No. She's a normal child. I usually have to get a crazed-mom, horse eye look and tell her to "Get out now!" Lacowland is just like any other house with a tween and a high-maintenance mother.

Good boundaries protect our kids from the ugly stuff. I just saw a Pinterest post that read "No" is a complete sentence. Yep, sometimes it is. When you get that gut feeling that you don't want to let your kid spend the night at that house, "No" is a complete sentence. When someone is pushing in on your boundaries "No" needs to be your complete sentence. You don't owe an explanation. People

who truly respect you will respect your "no" as well. That is something to chew on. Natalia HATES this (and so did my ER patients), but when she repeatedly asks me for something I said 'no' to I respond with "Are you asking me again because you didn't understand my answer or because you are hoping for a different response?" Make people be clear with their intent. Besides, nagging is annoying.

Okay, I'm going to help us all by reminding us what good boundaries are. Especially because Natalia reads these posts and I am trying to teach her to do good. Yes, that is my graduate level grammar. First I want to say that when I am upset because someone has gotten under my skin it is because I allowed it. The actual problem is with me and my lack of boundaries. That took YEARS for me to swallow and still makes me mad. It gives me the feeling of being duped again, and again. Bottom line, the problem is me. We all need to own our own stuff. If someone is invading your bubble, don't react. Take a step back and gather your composure. Setting boundaries means offering options. Like, "If you act this way, the consequences are this. It is up to you and I respect whatever you choose." It provides power to both parties, but also makes everyone take ownership. Ya gotta be consistent with what you say, so think before you set your boundaries. Is that really what you are going to stick with? Are you really never going to float the river again because your husband and daughter won't stop spraying you with squirt guns? Can you tell this is a real life experience for me? If someone refuses to respect you then stay away from them. You can't make someone respect you, but you can refuse to be disrespected in the future. Set a limit on that. Teach your kids that drawing that line in the sand isn't Armageddon and the end of the world. It's a limit. It's respect. It's normal. 

When my Sin Weighs More than Yours

This is one of those rare auto-immune mornings that wake me up at 4am. Sometimes my body just decides to massively contract. Poor Jeremy. I can't lie still so I will get up and take a pain pill and try to go back to bed. No dice. I should have known something was up when my feet clamped off yesterday and were freezing, even though it has been well over a 100 degrees for weeks here. The bonus is that it is like getting a few more hours gifted into my day. Also, Jeremy had leftover coffee in the pot from when he went to work. So, now the dog and I are hanging out on the patio during the only cool part of the day.

Friends who are dear to me know I love Jesus. People who aren't close to me and are reading this now know. Hey y'all, I love Jesus. Not in a "you should come to the potluck" kind of way, but in a "that's my guy who sits with me by the lake inside my head" kind of way. You know those times when you are in your thoughts and need an arm around your shoulder and someone to listen? Yeah, he's my guy. The one who looks you in the face and says "Um, you are being kind of crazy." Yep, that's my Jesus. The one who kisses me on the forehead and reminds me that I am a big mess and he loves me just the way I am. My kind of Jesus. He's not one of my crafted fabrications. He's all biblical, and stuff. The point of this post is not to convert anybody. I'm not that kind of girl, so don't worry that you will accidentally get my faith on you just by reading this. My sweet, loving non-believer friends know they are totally safe around me. 

A deep conversation came up in our family the other day that I really don't know how to handle. One of my little sisters thinks I always have the right answers, but I assured her that I am mostly faking it until I make it. I am going to keep the exact topic vague so we can all keep an open mind. I want to premise this whole topic with the fact that I am not a theologian. I am not a preacher. I am not a counselor. I am just a girl with a really good heart that feels most people are genuinely good and loving. Keep this in mind as I elaborate.

Class, I would like to start off with some definitions. Sin. Ooooh. Such an ugly word for almost everybody. As it should be. When I think of sin I immediately get the flashbacks of wooden church pews and discomfort. Okay, back to the definition. I wanted to go with a secular version of the definition because I feel that it is the most emotionally impartial. Enter Wikipedia: Sin is anything that goes against the ideal relationship between you and God. Simple enough. That is it. Now, I am pretty good on my bible stuff and understanding God's personality and I can tell you that this is it. Why does God hate sin so much? Because he really loves us and hates it when our relationship is "off". I also want to throw out the definition of the word "bigot" because it is being used a lot. As in, inappropriately and I am having to quote the Spaniard from Princess Bride every time I see it. Bigot: A person who is intolerant of any opinions differing from their own. A bigot IS NOT simply a person who decides not to go along with your opinion. As in, I am not a bigot because I will not accept strawberry ice cream as the best ice cream ever. We can all have opinions without being bigots. Please don't hate me for not being on board with strawberry ice cream. I like strawberries, I like ice cream. I'm just not a fan of the two mixed together.

Okay, back to sin. Let's imagine that your child is a heroin addict. The addiction to heroin would be the "sin" because it is an act that causes a wedge in your relationship. You therefore HATE heroin. I can pretty much assure you that your child hates heroin too, but the whole addiction dynamic is on a chemical level. The behavior of taking heroin continues to keep a separation between you two, but I know that as a parent you would fight to hold on to that relationship. You love your child and you SEE your child through the heroin. You hate the heroin though. To God, every sin is heroin.

I have some sin going on. Not heroin, thank goodness. If we are looking at old testament stuff I do a few things that are worth stoning. Like, death penalty stuff. I say God's name when I'm not addressing him, if you know what I mean. In the Old Testament that would warrant me getting pummeled with rocks. I have looked upon Ryan Reynolds with warm regard. Lust. I have put money and myself above God. I know He hates that. There are a lot of others, but I'll stop there.

It's a weight issue. Why am I hugged and lovingly accepted into church, but others are not? If the apostle John reminded us that a sin is a sin no matter how you slice it (I John 5:17) then why do some sins get more shame? We are all a hot mess. According to biblical laws, anyone who is divorced for any reason outside of an affair is really not divorced in God's mind. Not only that, the couple is constantly having an affair if they get remarried. Everyone is familiar with the profound divorce rate and we have all become pretty comfortable with blended families and second marriages. This issue holds less weight. Y'all get what I'm starting to throw out here?

I'm not saying that we should all start loving heroin, or divorce, or anything else that rends relationships. I am saying that we need to be mindful that we are not judge and jury. That's God's job. I believe there is a place to hold each other accountable in our lives, but when Jesus stepped on the scene he set a whole new set of rules for us. The number one rule that we all must follow is to love one another like he loves us (John 13:34). Aren't you relieved to know that when you stub your pinkie toe on the coffee table and you say "G-D!" you won't be stoned to death or at risk for smite?! Nope. God is not pleased that you use his name as a negative, but he doesn't want you to die about it. 

There are some huge political issues going on in our world right now that leave me spiritually confused. These issue affect a lot of families. A lot of good, loving, sweet families. Even though I deviate away from God's perfect plan for me on a daily basis, I know he still is utterly in love with me. All the time. I know women who have gone through ugly divorces and become closer to God. Yes, it is a deviation from the ideal relationship, or a sin, but it does not mean that a person is lost from Jesus. That would be silly.

Christian friends, please just love people. That's really what Jesus wants you to do. As a matter of fact, please just love me. I fall short every day. I'm selfish and a bit miserly with my money. I really wrestle with keeping gossip to myself and I cuss like a sailor. I even use the f-bomb in my prayers when I am mad at God. There are whole sections of the bible devoted to how that is wrong on all sorts of levels. Just be loving to people. Yes, sin is wrong because it keeps us away from God's perfect relationship that he had planned for us. Just like heroin keeps a child from actualizing the dreams a parent had for the success of their adult child. Does that make sense? We won't have our perfect relationship until we all get back to heaven. Just a note, you can't get into heaven if God doesn't know you. I mean, I wouldn't let you live in my house if I didn't know you. Duh! If you ever want to know more about this just ask any non-creepy Christian of your choosing. We love talking about this. Actually, sometimes we will go from non-creepy to creepy, so you may have to rein us in a bit. 

Okay, so here are my Jerry Springer final thoughts: You do you. As in, work on what you got going on with God and let God handle the others. Love each other and stop trying to divvy out weight on sin in an effort to rationalize which ones are better than others. They all suck. They all affect relationships in a negative way. Every. Single. One. I know it is trite, but really what Jesus would do is have dinner and make the most out of the relationship that exists. Drink a glass of wine and dish out some hugs. Gauge the appropriateness of telling someone the weight of their sin. I'm guessing they already know, and really is that your place or does that belong to God? I can assure you that I am fully aware of my shortcomings. They are waiting for me every morning as I wake up. What makes the difference in my day is the people around me who love me and let me show me that I am cherished. I'm not telling anyone to go around saying heroin is an acceptable recreation, or that divorce is the way to go. Just be mindful. Be the little hint of spiritual Jesus in the tangible world. It's pretty profound. Let's all do that. 

The Tween Changeling

First off, I want to say thank you for the great response from my last post regarding Natalia's bipolar. It is great to have so many wonderful friends and encouraging moms. 

Okay, so this topic is soooo 5th grade, but at the end of the year came the dreaded human growth and anatomy class. Like, the very fist one of her life! I don't know why, but the thought of this class totally stressed her out. I could just imagine her expecting the teacher to walk in naked- flashing a vagina and boobies to the whole class, or something. I mean, it was so nerve wracking for her that she really wouldn't even elaborate on what freaked her out about the whole ordeal. 

I have been spoon feeding anatomy and "the talk" to Natalia for years. I'm a nurse so I think it is important for a girl to know what is going on and what to expect. Have you read Stephen King's "Carrie"? The catalyst for the ultimate spaz out started because she had no idea who Aunt Flo was. No daughter of mine is gong to turn into some telekinetic psycho killer. Not on my watch. 

When Natalia was going into kindergarten I realized that there was going to potentially be boy "penis talk" somewhere in her future. Not necessarily in kindergarten, but on the bus or wherever. I asked her "Hey babe, what is the difference between boys and girls?" and she replied "Boys have short hair." This was my segue into our first conversation where I explained boy anatomy. She bounced back with "You mean like a little hot dog?" Jeremy was passing through the room at that moment and just shook his head and kept going. 

Fast forward to two-ish years ago. Our favorite friends were pregnant with their first baby and Natalia asked how the baby got there. Like any normal person who hears this story from their parents for the first time, she immediately regretted the question. Props to me, though, for keeping it all "nurs-y cellular", instead of "when a man loves a woman". I did use this opportunity to encourage better hoo-ha hygiene. Evidently she says she is too busy to wipe sometimes, so she just sprinkles and sprints. Can you imagine the stress of our children today that are so rushed for time that they just can't stop to wipe? Yeah, me neither. Gross. I told her she needs to wipe because nobody wants a baby coming out of a dirty vagina. She was mortified that I would even say that, but not enough to slow it down. She's getting better.... I'm lying. It's a problem. Gross. 

Okay, so the other day Natalia came to talk to me and I knew it was going to be good because she had a couple of false start attempts. When she finally got the courage she told me that she has started to get boobies. I had kind of thought I saw a little something the other day, but she has been layering all of her shirts lately. I was so excited! See, the reason moms get excited over that stuff is because we are all like, "Oh my gosh! I made those boobies!" In the bigger picture, boobies mean all-out puberty, which means she has started wearing deodorant. She still acts aghast that we ask her to shower and tries to negotiate for a different day, but at least she is deodorizing. THAT I can say we are progressing in the right direction. 

We were sitting together the other day waiting on Jeremy to pull the Jeep around and she randomly said "Getting older is weird because your body is changing so much. It's awkward." Transitions are tough for her. She really needs a "heads up" any time she is about to move on to another thing, so the lack of control over this annoys her. She tells me all the time that she really likes being a kid and doesn't want to grow up. I love the fact that she is 11 and acts 11. She has a couple girls in her class that are 11 going on 17. Natalia has no desire to be one of them and I am totally relieved. 

On a really funny note, I had the first glimpse of her flirting the other day. It was the most awkward thing Jeremy and I have ever witnessed. Jeremy said that he kind of wanted to give her advice not to fart in front of boys you like when you are video messaging them, but then he decided not to. We both agreed that we will worry less if she is burping and farting in front of the boy she likes, rather than trying to be "cute". 

At least she feels like she can talk to me and ask me questions. I don't

remember having any specific conversations with my mom when I was little. I picked some of it up in school and some of it up in romance novels. Natalia and I did talk for a nano second about having boyfriends. I told her my first boyfriend was when I was 12 (gasp) and that I wish I had waited until I was older. As of right now she agrees. She is still at the point where she thinks boys are kind of weird and gross. At the same time she sees other girls feeling validated because a boy thinks she is pretty. That is kind of hard to resist too. I try not to get all crazy and preach about how she should feel that she is good enough all on her own. Let's be real, I like to be told I'm pretty too! Besides, I tried to preach and she literally told me to calm down and stop making a big deal over it. It's the equivalent of slapping a hysterical woman. She snapped me out of it. If I freak out, then she won't tell me stuff any more, or worse, I won't be able to watch her awkward flirting video chats anymore. And then what would I blog about?! That would be tragic.  

My Bipolar Child

I would first like to mention that I am typing from the ONLY keyboard in the house that does not have syrup on it. 

The next thing I would like to note is that I have Natalia's permission to write this post.

Back in August of 2014 Natalia was diagnosed with cyclothymia. Now, that is a fancy name for bipolar. It's the kind of bipolar where your highs aren't too high, and your lows aren't too low. I have a clear snapshot in my mind of the moment her doctor gave her a permanent label for this awkward beast that had been troubling our whole family for a few years. I was hurt all the way down into my mother heart (I'll explain that in a moment) and Natalia was relieved. She finally had an answer why she felt like her emotions where rolling over her like tsunami waves.

People who know Natalia generally love her. Of course, I am a mean mama bear and if anyone were to speak odd-ball slander against my child I would probably let my crazy out a bit. But people that Jeremy and I know and trust really do adore her. What I am trying to say is that she is a good kid, well mannered, and has a good moral compass. I've preached on this before. She is not what you would pin point as a classic bipolar kiddo. My little sister is bipolar in the traditional way. That is a sweet southern way of saying Amanda used to chase us with kitchen knives and punch holes in the walls when she was 9 years old.... bless her heart. 

Natalia really flew under the radar with this one. Her teachers had labelled her "quirky", but loved her as a student. She is shy and not a trouble maker. Her test scores were all over the place! Some test days she did pretty well, some days she just bombed. Except math, it is her arch nemesis - consistently. She had one fabulous teacher who told us to take our time to have her tested for a learning disorder, but that we needed to keep that in the back of our minds. We invested in some summer tutoring, but it didn't help how "out of sorts" she had become.

Okay moms. Don't be paranoid, especially if your child is a tween. They are strange animals who should be watched from a distance and sometimes you just have to throw M&M's at them and hope they don't steal your soul. That is actually normal. What gave us the heads up that Natalia was having extra trouble is that these "moods" would last for WEEKS. Could you imagine?! Mars doesn't make enough M&M's for this situation. Not only would she be out of sorts for weeks, but she would be fidgety and restless for weeks prior to that. She would only get four hours of sleep in spite of having Benadryl. As a mother, it was alarming, and she was scared. She felt completely out of control. I asked her pediatrician if this was simply hormones and her doctor stated hormonal swings last hours at most. These mood swings were indicative of a disorder. I told her I wanted to try counseling first (which we did) before we saw a psychiatrist (who is the MD that doles out the diagnosis and pills).

We were referred a second time to a psychiatrist. He reminds me of the counselor from South Park. I wait for him to say "MMM K?" at every session, but he doesn't. Darn it! He spent two hours talking to Natalia. The nurse in me could tell where the questions were heading and how he was trying to clarify and veer her away from where it was going. She kept coming back to the same answers. After all the questions were done and the conversation was over I realized I knew all along. Oh, she also has ADHD. So she was either a little too happy, or a little too sad, but either way she wasn't paying attention.

Okay, all about me: I felt robbed. In the dysfunctional child breakdown I am the perfectionist child. I had done everything right dammit! I married the amazing guy, I got therapy so I'm not so messy, I love my daughter like a mom should, no body is beating anybody or shooting heroin in my house. I mean, I feel like I had set the stage for a mentally sound offspring. I forgot the genetic factor. If anyone really wants to know about nature vs. nurture I can attest to nature on this one. Jeremy and I are good, supportive parents and we have a bipolar daughter. I have had to REALLY evaluate the way I feel about mental illness. I mean, really. As a nurse I am supposed to be all "Yes, it is an illness and we treat it like any other illness", but also I have seen a manic bipolar girl in four point restraints in a wheelchair who STILL manages to get her hospital gown off and scream "I'm pushing my baby out!" to the terror of the rest of the ER bystanders. She was not pregnant.

Natalia saw it as an answer for why she was feeling so terrible all the time. She has no ingrained stigmas or baggage. She did recently tell me that she does not like the term "mental illness", so I see hints of the label starting to take its toll. I have had to really tuck my crazy in to re-affirm that bipolar is managed just like my autoimmune disease or diabetes. It is life long, but let's not demonize it. I also told her that it is not an excuse to act a fool or be a jerk. She agrees. 

Natalia is recovering from a concussion and it REALLY set off her bipolar. I think at one point her bipolar became contagious because we all became crazy. Hell, I even saged our house just to cover my bases, it was that bad. One really bad night she was super down. Oh, like that crying from her soul wanting to disappear and die kind of bad. It is so hard for me to write that, but it is gospel truth. I was at a loss of what to do. Look that shit up in the parenting manual - yeah, it's not in there. Now, as a southern mama my first instinct was to feed her. This was NOT the right answer for her at the time. I will let y'all take note of that. That's right. Jot that down.

Instead I crawled into bed with her and held her as much as she would let me. Even when she ordered me out of her room I told her I wasn't going to leave her. Never leave someone when they are like that. Close your ears to their words and look at their soul. They are wearing it on the outside at that moment. It was so raw. Finally, she got to the point where I could hold my baby girl again. In all my 11 years of being her mom I never imagined my darling girl would feel that much pain from inside her own head. I told her that this would pass, it always does; and it is not real, although it feels very real right now. I told her that daddy and I were going to love her through it until it passed. It was a long 40 minutes. 

Okay, So let me make a point here. It doesn't matter if Natalia was diagnosed with Autism, or Rheumatoid Arthritis, or bipolar. There is a bit of grieving to be done here for parents. It's okay. Why? Because when a mom has her baby it is a perfect slice of heaven with an extra side of hope. Hope that with this baby the landings will be a little softer and hugs a bit warmer. There are still things that we just can't control, like DNA. Don't misunderstand me here. I'm not saying that Natalia is in any way damaged at all. This is the way the good Lord made her and I love everything about her. You should see the way she puts together an outfit. It's pretty different, but totally "her". People who have seen the crafts I have made know I make exceptional pieces. She is no different. What I mean is that if I was the one who got to decide her life struggles, I would not choose this one. I would choose something like, beautiful hair that grows too fast or terrible knock-knock joke teller. Something like that. Not this, but it wasn't up to me. My job (and Jeremy's) is to love her through all of it. The good, the bad, and the copious amounts of syrup that end up on the computer keyboards.  

Being Home

Sometimes you get insight from the strangest places. Tonight I was trying to retreat from my real world into the reality world of some Beverly Hills Housewives and I was struck. All the way into my heart, started ugly crying in my pj's kind of struck. A mom was talking to her daughter about going off to college in a few weeks. I can't even fathom right now having Natalia leave the house to move out. I mean, seriously. I have to BEG her to bathe twice a week. She needs me. Anyway, Kyle (the mom) tells her little girl "I know a lot of parents tell their kids to finish what they start, but I want you to know if you are unhappy you can come home." Of course all three of us are crying - Kyle, the daughter and me in my pj's.

A lot of moms will (and I'm sure did) cry about this. I started to cry for a different reason. You see, I went to college to escape my life. When I left for college my mom was recently divorced from a heroin addict, alcoholic who physically and emotionally abused us. Even though they were divorced, he still came around periodically, hanging on like the stench on summer road kill. What I am saying is I had no home to go back to. No loving family who would be my safe harbor if I failed; no stability while I marched out in uncertainty. Just a dead end. While I know my mother loves me in all her capacity, it is not the kind of family love you want to hang your childhood dreams on. Failure was not an option. I incurred over $40K worth of student loan debt, and a large part because I left home for a college in Nashville. I had a scholarship in my own state of Georgia, but something inside me knew that if I didn't gain distance I wouldn't be able to cut free. I gave up the scholarship. I don't even think my mom knew anything about the scholarship, even to this day.

Once I got engaged a year and a half later I did move back in with my mom until I was married. I am grateful that she always had a room for me to come back to. At that point I had met the man of my dreams and started on a path towards my new life with my own direction. 

Family life is very different for Natalia. Jeremy and I are good people. A little nutty, but good people and we love her like crazy. This is what I want for Natalia: A safe harbor. A place where she can softly land if she feels like she made the wrong choice. When the chaos of the universe rocks her world too much, I want her to know she can come back to Jeremy and I to get centered again. I want her to always remember that hugs calm down most storms and there is always time for a family meeting on her bed. I want her to know how fiercely I love her and would lay down my world at her feet so she could have half the happiness she brings me. I want her to know that daddy and I are her home. I don't care how old she is, how heavy she is or how many degrees she gets - she will always fit perfectly in my arms. 

All the Cool Kids do Homework

Oh sweet blog friend, I have missed you. I have been thinking about you often.

So I am a writing queen now that I am in school. I would argue that I am a Queen (yes, capital Q) among many things, but especially writing. Since I am working on becoming a Master FNP - it's kind of like a Jedi - I write papers and discussions galore. Since Natalia cannot get her life organized I write emails back and forth to her teacher galore. We are trying to figure out catchy new ways for Natalia to remember to shuffle papers in and out of her snazzy pink binder. 

I am still on leave from work since my knee surgery. I kind of like this stay at home mom stuff, minus the pain medication. That stuff is crap. Don't believe a word those drug addicts tell you because I bet none of them have pooped in two weeks. Okay, so if I wasn't in pain, this stay at home stuff would be kind of nice. I actually get to help Natalia with her homework and study for tests. I learned that she is a kinesthetic learner, for one thing. It is so cutting edge that I had to Google it and my spell check doesn't even recognize it as a word. Natalia and I had to have a time-out from her studying so she could teach me how to teach her. Ah, the master has become the student. What it boiled down to is she has to move around and do something tactile to make a brain connection with new concepts.

Okay, I can do this.

Enter: Gigantic Bouncy Ball. 

Imagine we are learning Greek and Latin vocabulary together while she bounces her tushy up and down on a gigantic exercise bouncy ball and I'm throwing out hand signals like a baseball coach in the dugout for her to throw back at me. We looked like the insane sign language posse. I'm more of a visual learner, so I really had to get over myself that these actions do not have to MATCH the word. I mean, what would you kinesthetic-ize for the word trisect? Exactly. I could show you, but I can't describe it in my written language. I guess if I ever have to spend a day speaking solely in interpretive dance, I will know my limits. I don't think Natalia has such limits. She's fabulous.

One thing about this mommy-daughter homework time is math boundaries. For those adults who do not know what the nasty term "Common Core" means, I recommend to not even look it up until you have to. Actually, don't even worry about it. Natalia's teacher forbid's (just kidding, I love her) parents to help with math because we will just mess the kiddos up. Natalia's teacher is brilliant because she essentially posts YouTube-like videos for the kids to watch if they need help, since parents have no idea how to multiply or divide numbers in the millennium. The most I do with math is check the answers.... with my calculator. 

Part of tonight's homework has to do with the American Revolution. Since Natalia is supposed to dress up for some speeches, we bought her a very American flag looking Betsy Ross costume. Gotta love Amazon. I love that one of the scenes she and her classmates are going to act out is a war scene where half of them die. Natalia has been practicing her speech and death rattle for two days now. She's pretty good. I'm so glad we got her into this artsy-fartsy school.

What I Learned About Chronic Pain

For an ex-ER nurse, one of the most humbling and embarrassing things for me to admit is I am a chronic pain person. I don't really know why as ER nurses we look down on chronic pain people. Was it because they required more work? Was it because we are a bunch of "fixers" and it was an un-fixable ailment? Sometimes it was because of the drug abuse and being conned, but not all the time. Now that I look back on my time in the ER and how I judged a lot of the patient population, I don't know why I cared about that aspect of their health. I guess I was just burnt out.

The upside to all that experience is it makes me a more mindful patient. I know what a slippery slope pain medications can be for pain that really will never go away, so I stay away from narcotics. I can see now why people turn to heavy pain medications who do not have this insight. Chronic pain is kind of a hopeless plight and is consuming. I had no idea until I was in the thick of it, so I thought I would share what it is like to be a chronic-painer with you.

Most of the time it is like a small pebble in your shoe on a hike when you can't stop. You re-adjust your steps, you shake your shoe, but no matter what, it can be felt the whole time and is aggravating. Is it the worst pain ever? No, but let's just leave that pebble in your shoe for a year and you aren't allowed to take your shoe off. Your upbeat attitude starts to falter. Every once in a while, that pebble turns into a goat head and you have to stop, but only for a moment. On your hike people will stop with you for a short period of time, but really, everyone is on a nice hike and you just encourage them to go on. You assure them it will get better and you will try and catch up. The goat head settles back down into a pebble, and you hike on. You try and catch up to your friends, but you realize that you just can't keep the same pace anymore.

This is how it goes for the rest of your hike - pebble to goat head, pebble to goat head. No one really sees the debris in your shoe and while they love you, they question what is really going on. They also wonder why you can't just "power through it"? Maybe if your foot was tougher it wouldn't bother you? Maybe you are just too sensitive and need to learn to "cowboy up"? You have tried both, but now you are tired and your spirit is drained. You wonder if you will ever know what it feels like to have normal feeling shoes again. And then you begin to lose heart. This is when you start to mourn the loss of your own health, and it can happen at any age. Even at 37.

Right now I am two weeks from knowing if a knee replacement will help. If it is not the right answer for me, then I am as mobile as I will ever be. No more hiking, snowboarding, running in the park to get a kite in the air with Natalia. No more long days at Disneyland, no more walking on the beach because I can't tolerate the uneven sand, no more high heels to look sexy for my husband, no more dancing at the holiday parties and possibly at Natalia's wedding. My knees will get worse, not better. These are the things I am mourning and how my life is changing. 

I have had people with very good intentions tell me "Remember, there are people way worse off than you." To which I found this lovely quote "Saying someone can't be sad because someone may have it worse is just like saying someone can't be happy because someone else might have it better." Everyone's journey is different, everyone's pain is her own. My pain never stops me from fixing my hair or doing my makeup before I go out. I really don't want people to know how terrible I feel on the inside. Of course, my daughter can read my face like a cheap tabloid magazine and knows right away whether my day is bad or not. It kills my heart not being the mom I want to be right now and that I can't hide it from her. In one of her school papers she wrote for me to get a new knee as one of her goals for the year. I cried and cried right onto the construction paper. 

In two years I will be a nurse practitioner. The good news is this has brought more empathy into my heart and will help me be a better care giver. It took me 9 years to max out being jaded and prejudice, but only one year to help chip all that hardness away, so I guess it was a pretty good trade when you think of it. Hard, but efficient. Once I'm done mourning my high heeled shoes, and so forth, I'll revamp the things I do with my family, rest more than any 30-something ever should have to, and realize there isn't a damn thing I can do differently for this pebble in my shoe.

What the Heck is a Tween, Anyway?

Up until a few months ago, I didn't know, nor did I care what a "tween" was. To tell you the truth, I still have no idea what this creature is lurking in my house. This is Wikipedia's definition: "A tween is a person who is between the ages of 10 to 12 years old.^[1] The term is often described in popular media as referring to a preadolescent (usually female) who is at the "in-between" stage in their development when they are considered "too old for toys, too young for boys".  Okay, some of this is true, but some of it is downright misleading. It is more like "they love to play with toys and talk about boys non-stop". I should go back and edit that Wikipedia page.

So let me tell you about my journey with a tween, where it started, and some truth to it all because, quite frankly, I have been lied to. We all have. 

I have this amazing, beautiful, articulate, quirky, and very funny daughter. Gradually a year ago Jeremy and I started noticing subtle changes in the tides. A mood swing here, a bit extra tired there, a tad bit over dramatic. No problem. I mean, we knew puberty was inevitable because a few physical signs had started up at age 8. Of course we panicked and took her to her pediatrician as a husband and wife team wanting to know what the hell was going on with our sweet baby and why was her body changing already?! She was just now finishing chapter books and ten finger typing, dammit! We were assured it was normal. A bit on the earlier side, but normal. Okay. We breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed a couple of dum-dum lollipops on our way out (you know they choose those because they think parents are morons sometimes) and felt pretty good again. 

Now here we are, living in a house with a 10 year old tween. If ever there was a time to NOT have an early achiever, this would be a time to opt out of that first prize. It is a circle from Dante's Inferno. I am going to preface this with my mommy disclaimer: I love my child in a fierce momma bear way. She is my precious life and I will love her little soul until the day I die. Okay, now let's get real.

First, no one told me that all the Freud garbage I learned in Psychology 101 and Nursing Theory actually had some merit. Let me explain: Natalia will constantly pick a fight with me, not Jeremy and feels that she is in competition with me at all times. I confess that sometimes I regress to her level and play the "I want to have the last word" game, but she really does pick at me specifically. Thank goodness I have a fantastic spouse who will back me up and tell her to cut it out.... eventually. Like any guy, he glazes over at the first site of female drama. He's heroic, but he ain't dumb. Now do I think it is because Natalia is "interested" in Jeremy. No. Freud is a nut when it goes that far, but there is some same sex aggression going on here. 

Second, the mood swings will make you a captive in your own home. You will rejoice at going to Wal-mart because it is unlikely the cashier will shout "Oh my gosh!" and just stomp off mid checkout leaving you to wonder what you just said. No one at the gas station will correct your facial gestures while tearing up because you looked cross while pumping gas. I even listen to classical music right now because there is no talking going on during the music. There is so much chatter at my house that I don't even want to hear a human voice while listening to music. I live in a land of tween emotional land mines.

Third, in the early phase of having your tween you will be convinced your child has a serious mental illness and is going to be the next Charles Manson. Yes, we took her to the pediatrician AGAIN and pretty much preached on all this bipolar sounding craziness, the narcolepsy vs. insomnia, the angst over school crafts and shoes that make her "toes look big". Are you feeling me? Her pediatrician agreed that Natalia is a bit high strung and since mental illness parades through both Jeremy and my families like Shriners on mini bicycles, we are going to put her in some counseling. Actually let's be honest. I just can't referee these emotions anymore. We are tapping out and calling in a professional. I can't be the lifeboat if I'm also the sinking ship.

No one told me that I only had 10 years before I had to tell her how to shave her legs (the tutorial was today, thank you very much), what it is like to start your period, questions about actual sex instead of the anatomy lesson I got away with when she was 6. No one told me that you can be the most supportive and loving parents in the world and your daughter will still tell you things like "I want a different chin" and "I think my belly sticks out too far". I had been led to believe that if I cheered her on enough, she would just love herself as much as I love her and wake up in these tween years completely enlightened instead of feeling lost and awkward. Nike will lead you on that if she plays sports she won't join a gang or pierce her nipples in 8th grade. Okay, now I'm being a bit dramatic, but they really are selling us some lies and preying on our mommy guilt.

My friend Carrie has a daughter about the same age and is going through a lot of the same issues. I had an epiphany one day and shared it with her, so I thought I would share it with y'all too. As much as I no longer know who my daughter is, neither does Natalia. She spent the first 9 years figuring out her favorite color, food, animal, music and was getting settled into her parent sheltered independence when one day she started slipping away from the "she" that she knew. The world just opened up to her and became such a bigger place, full of uncertainty and possibility all at the same time. Jeremy and I were struggling to stuff her personality back into the "child Natalia" where he and I felt safe. Now all three of us realize that it is going to take a lot of time to get to know the new Natalia. It is like starting over again. Remember how scared you were when you first brought home your brand new baby girl? Just imagine if she could actually speak English. Now you are getting it - emotional, demanding, and has no idea what she wants or needs, but now can articulate.

Sometimes to get through the emotionally hard parts I have to remind Natalia that I have never been a mom before and that I am literally winging it. I reminded her today that I am having to read books to understand what a "tween" is and that sometimes I don't even understand what she is trying to say to me. She asked me "Well, what is a tween?" and I was like, "I still have no idea!" Sometimes I'm brutally honest with her and let her know that although I love her dearly, I really don't like her sometimes because she just talks so ugly to me. I remind her that she would have no friends if she spoke to them that way. She is good about apologies. 

So, this is my unsolicited advice: Tweens kind of suck. They have no idea what they are doing and are like bipolar borderline personality disorder people off their medications, so cut them a little slack, but set up good boundaries. They need them so desperately because they are so scared about this whole new world that just opened up to them. It's also okay to not like your child sometimes. This is why I put myself in time out. I have more control over my actions than I do hers, so I just leave the situation, go to my room and cool off until we can both grow up and talk like normal humans again. My last advice is this: Next time you and your daughter are together in a good moment, look up the YouTube videos for Katie Kaboom from Animaniacs. It will sum up your daughter in a quick 2 minute animated short and you will both get a good laugh.

Brats for God: God, just do things my way, okay?

I was, what I believe, divinely led to start on a new book "Restless: Because you were made for more" by Jennie Allen. Granted I'm only a couple chapters into the book, but she does talk about Batman, and she had me sold at superhero references. I'm nerdy like that and would walk around in spandex and a cape myself if I didn't think someone would question my sanity and possibly parenting competency. 

I decided last summer that I really do love God. I've never seen Him, but like the wind I have felt Him near, and pushed away so I understand what it means to feel Him far away too. Like orbiting planets in an elliptical fashion I get close, I boomerang out, then find my way back. While I love God very

much, I also get pretty mad at Him. I'm not just talking about questioning things - I'm talking about using the f-bomb in prayers and pretty much letting Him know that I could do a better job in my own life. I know I wanted Him to take control, but really I would like to show Him how it's done first, then give God my life to mold into what I want it to be. I've got big plans for me, you know. I have a certain way I want to look (forever), a lifestyle I would like to maintain, friends I would like to keep dear and never disappoint, a daughter who I would like raised a certain way, thank you very much, and a husband that I would like to be a Christian on my terms, in my way. God, could you please fill this order? That would be great.

Now if Natalia, who is 10, spelled all this out for me I would smile and laugh. That would be until she used the f-bomb and I would have to laugh inside but be all "mean mommy" and explain (awkwardly) what that word REALLY means. Like any child, Natalia often tells me how to do my job. I get so frustrated because really, how dare she with so little life experience tell me how things need to go down around here. I allow her to control small things in her world because if she really had control of the house, things wouldn't run at all. I am all for respectful freedom of speech around here, so I want her to voice her opinion of the injustices regarding being responsible, having to follow rules and not leaving poop stained underwear in the living room (seriously when is she going to take time to wipe. She says she's too busy). 

Do you see where I am going with this? She is as much of a child to me as I

am to God. I am not going to even envision Natalia as a teenager because I know that is what I sound like to the Creator of the Universe. If I am to oversimplify my spiritual dilemmas it would sound like this "God, I will love you and show out for You, but only if you do things my way. If you don't do things the way I think they should be done, I'm totally going to ignore You. That's cool, right?"

If your child said that to you, I'm sure you would be all "Yeah, honey. That sounds really great. Let's do life just like that." Hell no! You would first laugh at the audacity of your child to even entertain that thought, look at her like she has a third eye because she is totally serious, and then just ground her for life, since you know she will never hold down a job because she is a total brat. That gives me an idea for a t-shirt: Brats for God.

So what do I do with my immaturity? First, figuring out I am a spiritual brat is pretty moving in itself. I hate when I annoy myself, but now what? Well, what would Natalia do? She would go to her room, think it over, and then come talk to me. The communication is the cornerstone to fighting off the brattiness. I need to spend more time talking with God about what I'm supposed to be doing, not what I think I should be doing. If Natalia had it her way, she would be constantly watching YouTube tutorials on how to make "squishies" instead of getting ready for school. That is also why she missed the bus today and Jeremy had to wait in that awful parent drop off convoy. 

So how about we all do a bit more listening instead of talking. Like nagging children, God has heard our requests over, and over, and over. Yes, He knows we want to lose 10lbs. Yes, He knows we want our kiddos to grow up and not end up with facial tatoos and an orange jump suit. Yes, He knows we want our husbands to sort the damn laundry instead of throwing it on the laundry room floor like he is color blind, or something. Yes, He has heard our quiet desperation when we just say "I don't even know what I want anymore. I'm depleted."

Listening means I need to be quiet. Be still and know that I am God - Psalms 46:10. It does NOT read: Get going and do some stuff because I'm God and don't want you to look lazy. It's hard to listen when you look like a kid with ADHD bouncing all around your own life. Sit still. Listen. Take 5 minutes in your car to check in with God without giving Him a "to-do" list. I can't stress enough to just listen. If you hear nothing, hear nothing. Take that as a moment of divine peace away from the chaos of your day. That in itself is a gift. Ask God to talk to you through the people you love. That is my favorite. My friends, and strangers for that matter, have spoken straight to my heart when I have needed God the most. I know it the moment I hear it because my ears were open. Even Jeremy, with all his spiritual doubts, has told me recently he knows God was intervening through him on my behalf. Whether you believe or not doesn't change God any. He's not Santa where you stop getting as many presents once you acknowledge he can't possibly exist. Do you remember those couple of years when you figured out Santa wasn't real, but you didn't want to tell your parents because you thought Christmas would be over. Ah, the stresses of 8 year old life.

Okay, so my homework is to shut up and just be thankful, listen, and sit still for a bit every day. I think I can handle that. Just like getting to know a new friend, it isn't really "work", it's just time well spent. Time spent changing from a Brat for God into a Daughter for God. I think both of us will be relieved. 

Fabulous by Association

My New Years resolution has been to not ask questions that I really don't want the answer to, and it has been working really well for me. Yes, you can categorize it as somewhat denial-esqu, but seriously, it is pretty awesome. Let me explain: You know when you can just tell that you have made your spouse mad? I no longer ask "Are you mad?" because I don't want to know the answer at that moment. I just wait for him to come to me about his frustrations, which gives him a chance to gain some perspective - ie cool off. How about "Where you just talking about me?". Nope. Don't really want to know because that is one of those questions that unless you really know your friend, you probably aren't going to get a truthful answer anyway.

This brings me to today's topic: Surround yourself with people you aspire to be more like.

When I started at St Al's in 2007 in the ER I was amazed and intimidated by the nurses there. They were so smart, medically articulate, and knew their stuff. I mean, my first week one of the nurses was giving a blood transfusion to a trauma patient in the hallway. Holy cow. It was so different from the Susie White Bread hospital I came from. That, and I had only been a nurse for two years. Over the years, because I stayed with those saints, I absorbed a lot of knowledge and learned how to speak like a real nurse. Over the course of that time I also learned to cut out the fat and I don't mean liposuction. All those toxic "friends" and family got nudged out. You know, the people who take and take emotionally and never fill your cup up. Yep, trimmed out. 

At my work now I have people around me who work out like fiends, love it, and can find a positive twist to almost anything. They also bring extra lunch for us all to try and give gifts just because. It is such a giving group. They inspire me to be more thoughtful, especially since "Receiving Gifts" is not my love language. 

Today when Jeremy was consoling me out of a bad day ("Words of Affirmation" is my love language) I asked him if I was as supportive and uplifting to him as he is to me?  He answered "I learned it from you." Awe. How perfect. Not only is he a cutie patootie of a husband, but he is also the kind of person I

would like to be someday. We have been friends since we were 14 and I have learned a lot about not being such a brat, how to tell if I'm heading North, West, etc - not the child, the direction, and the importance of taking time out to just be with each other. If I had it my way, I would retreat into solitude much too often. He also reminds me to cut myself some slack sometimes. I get a bit too wrapped up in perfectionistic ideals.

My mini-me is also an inspiration to who I want to be someday. I've told her before that someday I hope to be more like her. Then she tells me I'm the best mom ever and she wants to be just like me and never move out. I have mixed emotions about that one since it is a great pipe dream when she is 10, but a bit weird when she is 32... and tries to bring in cats.... and an abundance of "As seen on TV" items. I mean, who doesn't love a shake weight now and again, but it is much more fun when it comes from someone else's house and wallet.

Natalia reminds me to have faith just like a Disney movie where things really always work out, family is the place where you go to rally, and clothing really doesn't have to match. It doesn't have to be perfect all the time. Sometimes I wear two different socks because that is my mental reminder to just let loose. That's right people - I am THAT wild and crazy some days. Okay, lets all sing a little "Let it Go"....... We all feel much better, even if the over 30 crowd only knows 1/4 of the words to that song.  

There have been times when I feel a little guilty getting a pep talk from my 10 year old, but that is what family is all about. We build each other up and sometimes let the other person know they need to go to time out. She will play with my hair, tell me I'm awesome and show me a little sunshine on a cloudy day. Ooooh! Sing that one too. It's a good one. Everything in my life turns into a song eventually - just ask my co-workers.

Well, here I am, home on a work day because my knees wouldn't stand for another moment of hauling gurneys (pun intended) and I was told that I need to make some big life decisions for the sake of my health. What?! I am not super human?! That's crap -  I mean poop, because Natalia reminds me that "crap" is a bad word. I was hoping that a knee replacement would be a fix to all my problems until I saw my own x-ray today which shows a lot of bone loss and was kindly told that my legs are two different sizes. Dammit, I hate asymmetry. Oh, I mean "darn it all".

So Natalia came and patted me on the head to tell me that she is sorry I can't do the job I wanted. She also told me that dinner was terrible and she is totally right. Fried rice should be left to the Chinese restaurants, not Lacowland. My friends have been praying for me and facebooking words of encouragement and my sister made me laugh and told me that she is still

coming out to visit, surgery or not. The bright side to all this is it is a chance to show Natalia that it is alright to have faith and make sure you surround yourself with a positive team of people who make you strive to be a better "you". This is hard since all I want to do is mope, and cry and feel sorry for myself. I've been robbed, I tell ya. But since I have surrounded myself with people who do better, I'm going to vent then build a little bridge and get over it. I'm also not going to ask God if it is going to get worse before it gets better since I really don't want to know the answer to that. See that! Sticking with my New Years resolution like a good girl. Bam!