Vacations. And the need for them.

*ZZ Top is coming home tonight.
*The lucky guy has been in Seattle for the week. My dream vacay destination.
*He's redeeming himself by bringing home $150 worth of Halibut.

*Fine. I'll get over it this one time.

*I painted to make the time pass more quickly.

*It was a rough week. A busy one.

*Baby teething. And sick.

*No eating + no sleeping = one tired & cranky baby + one tired & cranky mommy. To the nth degree.

*I am sooooooooo ready for a vacation. A real "let your hair down and relax" kind of vacation.

*Maybe then I won't be so edgy. I want *me* back. And ZZ Top, too. You know life is stressful when he gets a little cranky. He is *never* cranky. I wish I was him.

*I burnt myself out on garage saling. I'm not a die hard. Hit a few lousy ones and my career crashed and burned. For now. At least I found these (too big) shoes for Bizzizzy before I quit.

*That chica is going to get me into trouble one of these days. She renames herself quite often. Sarah. Myna. Minda. And when she is in this mode, she refuses to acknowledge me as her mom. Imagine what that's like when we are in public. "Hi! I'm Myna. What's your name? Your baby is so cute!! My mom is named Minda. I have to ask her if I can go with you..." Explain that to the police. Ha!
*Well, that wasn't completely truthful. She does call me mom when we are at the checkout counter. "Mom! I've been so good. I deserve a treat." However. I don't think the authorities would go for me saying, "Izzy, if you tell them I am your mommy, I will give you a treat!"
*We are at peace (as much as possible) with the hip issues here. Let's move on with life, shall we?
*Still need that vacay... BTW: I'm taking a small blogging break. FYI.

Therapy

I like when people say they learned something in therapy. The human mind and emotions fascinate me. And I've always secretly wanted to go to therapy. But I never really felt a need. Until maybe now. I might make use of it. Heh. Only half kidding there. Some of my reasons for wanting to go? I like to talk. Maybe I'd discover something about myself. Some life altering truth and I'd suddenly be a better person for it. But mostly because I would like to see where I land on the "normal" spectrum. Do I have major issues? Or am I well-rounded? Hmmm.

I stuck with the therapy I know best for now. Shopping. And bought something that I have also discovered to be fantastic therapy. A punching bag. I can punch away my anger and frustration. It feels liberating. Found this one at a garage sale for $20. As I stood there and looked at it, the guy said he'd take $15. I knew I had only $11 in my pocket. Do I dare? As I contemplated it, he said even $10 would be good. Sold!! And I didn't have to say a thing.

I have a thing for animal prints. As long as they don't look completely cheesy and fake. So I snatched these up for fun. LoVe them. Another garage sale find.

And when I stopped at B&BW to buy 1 or 2 hand soaps there was a crazy good sale 5 for $10. And Foaming Body Wash was 90% off!! $50 later. I know me a deal when I see one. (If you added that up you will know that I did buy two things that were more than $1-2.)

Last stop, I got myself some clothes. Because you know what? I'm sick of trying to lose those last ten baby pounds. It can wait- it'll still be there when I'm ready to make a go of it. If not, well. That solves that.

Combine that with good friends willing to help in any way they can and you got yourself a great outlet. Thank heavens for that.

What you wouldn't want it to be

I sat in the pediatricians office back in February and listened to him reassuring me. That my son's hips were just being overused and it was going to be okay. And he proceeded to tell me that I should be thankful that it wasn't what he had thought it was. A condition called Perthes Disease, where the bone dies and so on and so forth. I thanked my lucky stars.

But as I sat in the Pediatric Orthopaedic office yesterday, his words came back to haunt me as the Dr. began to describe the condition that my little guy has. When she said "part of the bone dies..." I knew (sort of) what it was and that it wasn't good. The poor little man has Perthes Disease. It's not so much a disease as a condition. A process. Basically, what happens is that the blood supply gets cut off to the top of the bone that rests in the hip socket. And that part dies. The body breaks this dead bone down and new bone is formed. However, the bone won't be what it once was. There is a good chance it will be deformed. (Bear with me, this is still very new and I'm trying to wrap my head around it. I don't quite get it all yet.)

While this is going on, there is nothing that you can do about it. You just have to let it happen and monitor it with x-ray's every three months until it has run its course. There are different treatments that Dr's have used. According to the specialist we saw, they have studied and studied and studied this. And have no answers. No one treatment works better than another. Be it traction, surgery, bed rest or normal activity. So you might as well let your child play and give Motrin as needed for pain. (Again, not sure if I have this exactly right- I'm trying to work it all out, taking the info the Dr. told me and what I have researched on my own.) (It's a little strange, I know, that I felt a little better when I ran into familiar medical terms that I've learned about while dealing with hips previously. Quick, anyone? Bilateral osteotomy. What is it?)

The prognosis could be good, it could be bad. We don't know. It varies in every child. Answers will come as we see each x-ray and the progress that is being made. We don't even know for sure what stage the disease is in, it's a wait and see type of thing.

I'm okay with this, in some ways. I know that I can handle it. Nobody wants to deal with the frequent Dr. visits, the not knowing, the financial stuff. But it's okay. I can take. What I am struggling with is the fact that I'm the mom and I can't make it better. With the girls hips, we know that we'll get there. It'll be fine. We can stop their problems in it's tracks. We can't with Logan. And *that* is so hard. Yesterday he told me, "Mom! When they told me that I could still play in sports, I was so happy. I didn't want to have to wear a brace or have surgery or anything." Oh, my little man. We'll leave it at that with him.

So there you have it. Four out of five hippies. It's fine. We'll deal. I'm confident in this because: although we were dealt this hand, I was also given a surprise phone call when I needed it and a well timed chocolate cake. It will be okay. We have people who care.

What I know for sure, mamas, is these three things:
1. ALWAYS. Always trust your instincts.
2. Always get a second opinion. Third, fourth, whatev. Never stop at one.
3. Always use the person who is educated to deal with your one specific subject. Pediatricians are good for the regular stuff. ENT for ear, nose and throat. Orthopedics for bone issues. You don't want to mess with this stuff.

Q. What do you call four matadors in quicksand?






A. Quatro sinko.

I love that joke. It's freakin' hilarious. And you can't even say it isn't.

and a pinch of salt...

I've started this post out countless times and erased it, started again. Because it's kind of hard for me to say this. I don't want to offend. I don't want to say this and have you think I'm not grateful. I don't want you to think I don't love it here, when in reality I think it's pretty close to perfect for us. It's just admitting that a situation is hard and gives you a little anxiety is a hard thing for me to do. This gal likes to appear like she got it together at all times. And you are going, "Heh? Really? Cuz I gotta admit- your posts have been all over the board lately." Yeah, I know. It helps to be honest sometimes. Thanks for your understanding.

Sometimes I want to crawl under a rock. Really. There are so many people here. I'm not used to it. We lived on the opposite side of the country for 3 1/2 years and lived a much quieter life. Our social calendar was pretty much wide open. And we come here and are- for lack of a better term- overwhelmed or bombarded by people. They already know who we are. We don't know them. And it's so wonderful, but scary. I feel on edge at all times. I come home and it takes me a couple hours to relax and feel at ease. And I. Love. People. I thrive on being around people. So I don't get this. It's so unlike me. Don't get me wrong, if people didn't come up and welcome us and introduce themselves to us, I would be so lonely. I'm thankful that we are welcomed and accepted, no questions asked. We feel the love, without a doubt. More than once, I have begged my own eyes not to mist up. It's incredible to come into this situation and have people welcome us like this. This isn't what I expected to happen. Never did I think that so many people would be thoughtful enough to try to make us feel at ease. But still. It is so nerve wracking.

As I was chatting with people at a baby shower, my feelings were completely validated. I'm not alone in this. People have been through what I am going through and come out relatively unscathed. Even the ones who haven't still have a good understanding of what it must be like. I'll take the good with the bad. When it boils right down to it, we are blessed beyond my comprehension to have landed right here. Of all the places we could have gone, we were put here. For a reason. And while the anxiety will fade, hopefully the feeling of needing to be here never will.

This one's for the boys

Notice how it has a soft light around it, much like an angel would? It came to save us from the prospect of push mowing the lawn.

And this one's for the girls.

I bought these for Zane and I. For our anniversary last week. I've been enjoying the company of Zaner for quite a few years now. I'll keep him around for another one, I think. (Happy belated to Sabrina and Levi)

Tickets to Abq are now $198/person.
I know this because I miss my friends back there. My heart feels all achy. :'(
Too bad we bought that dumb mower. Sigh.

I'm going to paint my loneliness away... (room #2, the master bedroom) Well, maybe. If I decide the color is right.

GSA

Hi, my name is Mindi ("Hi, Mindi!" you all say in unison) and I'm a Shopaholic. Even Dave Ramsey couldn't crack me. Well, why don't I look like a million bucks? you wonder. Because I don't wear the stuff I buy. Except around my midsection. I'm addicted to grocery shopping.

Seriously!? What's with me? If there's a sale, I'm there. Even if there isn't a sale, I'm there. Today I bought 6 lbs of strawberries. Because Susan said Costco strawberries are the best. Never mind the fact that I already had 3 lbs at home. We have been here not even two months and I have filled the rest of the freezer that we had partially filled, another small chest freezer and the fridge freezer. Fridge? I practically have to duct tape it shut. Cupboards? Lets not start. I could feed a small army for a month and be completely fine. And I'm still not content. I mean, hello! I totally have a $4 off coupon for Meijers- so I must think of something else I still need so that I can use it. Big deal if I'll walk out with at least $50 worth of groceries. At least I'll use that $4 coupon. Which I earned, by the way, by buying 4 million boxes of cereal last time I went in. What? They were on sale. Duh.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And more cupboard space to store my groceries.