Journal

Well, Dear Journal, I will miss you... sort of.  (you get kinda personal, ya know, lol)

I'm am taking a break.... from all meds.  I found out how much they are and can't afford them.  So I quit.  Spring is here, well almost and with it the snowstorms should disappear so migraines should be few and far between, (at least the series that last days on end).

I have enough migraine meds to last through the Spring.  I just have to go off the preventatives and by Fall they should be in generic form or God will just have my brain healed by then!  AMEN!  :-)

So I have to quit writing as things may get scrambled for a little while (I hope just temporarily).  I refused to squander what little settlement Work Comp sent on over priced meds when we need dental work and propane.  Silly Work Comp.  (I have 4 front teeth lay over many nights and if I'm careful they will stand up again in the mornings and by noon, if I leave then alone and pray over then, they settle back into the gums enough that I can carefully brush them.  lol)  I know I need to put in falseys but I guess for me that's the beginning of the end.  I was holding out 'til I was 50 and that's just barely over a year away.  But without back teeth on one side and with too many broken teeth on the other side to chew, I miss eating a nice juicy steak.  And grilling season is coming up and we have some nice tender elk steaks from last hunting season just whispering our names.  I shouldn't complain.  My upper front teeth are still intact! ;-)  (Having an 18 month old around was a convient cover-up for cutting up things into tiny pieces though!  lol)

Speaking of our precious Godchild, God is sooo good-all the time and all the time-God is good!  (couldn't resist! lol)  She is to be reunited with her mom in a Christian Teen Challenge Treatment Center on April 6th.  Yeah!  PTL!  The only hard part will be the 60-90 day bonding period where we will have no contact.  I know it is necessary, but it will be hard.  It's a 2 year program so after that time, we'll be able to have visitations, probably regularly.  :-)

We have been watching the Wiggles. They are wonderful!  I am so impressed.  2 or 3 of them started out as early childhood educators and met and formed a band (in Australia 17 years ago) and expanded to TV, Videos, concerts, etc.  They really know what kids like and developmentally, they are right on.  You can tell, they love kids and love what they are doing.  They have become one of the highlights of our morning.  :-)  (Better than Barney for her!) 

side note:  Did I tell you about my Barney crisis?  I told my son and a very dear friend but I don't thik I told you Dear Journal.  I think too much purple dino can cause near pychosis.  Let me explain.

After weeks of watching Barney with Aspen right before her morning naptime, I was sitting down drinking a much needed cup of coffee after a long night of her having nightmares and needing consoled that she wasn't alone and whatever else she needed rocked and cuddled for, WAMMO!  It hit me!  I finally understood what had bothered me about that giant purple puppet.  Something always bothered me about him but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I scrutinized him dancing and then looked down at my body and then looked up at heaven and said out loud, "PRAISE YOU GOD FOR PUTTING MY ARMS ON THE SIDE OF MY BODY AND NOT ON MY FRONT LIKE HIS SO I CAN REACH THINGS CORRECTLY AND NOT FALL OVER LIKE THE EMUS!"  Whoa!  I had an instant epiphany.  No more Barney for me!  I was taking the Dino way tooo seriously.  He wasn't real.  He was a misshapened puppet of poor design.  I mean, his little sister, Baby Bop's arms were in the correct position as were BJ's and Riff's, and Elmo's, Bert's & Ernie's.  Everyone in Puppetry knows correct arm positioning, for puppet's sake!

I digress, anywho, we now only watch Barney once a week, but we watch lil' einstiens and the Wiggles everyday and read books like crazy. We are going to miss her terribly.  I'm sure I will get a lot of cleaning and work at the office done after April 6th to fill those times.  I might even have to sneak watch the Wiggles after everyone else goes to sleep to get my Aspen "fix" until I can have visitation with her again. 

She is so much more verbal and calm, and less stimming since we took her off of milk and cheese and limited her gluten.  I am praying that they will continue her dietry regimine without doc's orders so she won't be "labeled" yet still have the advantage of early autism intervention.

Please pray for her and her mom to succeed and that Jesus becomes their life centers.  He can heal them, and only Him.

Blessings and hugs be upon ya.  see ya when I see ya, but know I love ya.

Lynda :-)

I'm depressed and I don't know how to pray.  Today is court.  Today the GAL, Caseworker, and Defense Attorney all get to present plans for our Godchild and her mother.  If we're lucky, I'll get to present on behalf of them too.  I need to pray God's will.

Here's how the day began...I guess not THE day, MY day, has to be MINE, not any one else could begin a day like this (lol):

The sun peeked through the blinds so I rolled over and pulled the comforter up to block it out for another coveted 10 minutes of precious shut-eye (now I understand why covet is listed as a sin in the ten commandments!).  I smelled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee so I knew my hubs was in the living room and would take care of Aspen if she woke up early.  He snuck back in the bedroom to --not wake me up-- and say "Goodbye" as he left for his 8am appointment in a neighboring town.  I listened to the gentle thud of the front door and purr of my car as he drove off.  The rest of the house was silent so all was good.  More snooze time for me.  I instantly feel into a deep sleep.

Ten minutes later, I was standing wide-eyed at attention, but definately not awake, at the side of Aspen's crib, to a reveille of screeches from a hysterical 18 month old who had somehow gotten her beloved tippy cup on the other side of her crib bars and couldn't pull it through.  It took long microseconds for me to figure out the situation and the solution--take the tippy cup out of her hand and lift it over the crib rails into her other hand so she and it were on the same side of the crib bars and could be happily reunited.  :-)  Screaming instantly replaced with "tant oo" and happy drinking noises, I walked into the kitchen, poured some cold coffee in a cup (hopefully it was a clean one, still wasn't too awake), plopped it in the microwave, and headed to the bathroom to splash water on my face so I could fully wake up and begin the already begun day.  I rounded the corner and stepped in something ominously gooey.

I didn't have to look down to recognize the squish.  In October, we adopted a rescue pup.  Well, Geezer isn't exactly a pup.  He's about 8 or 10 years old.  He's a 5 pound Yorkie who is very sweet, has cataracts, little tumors all over his body, very little hair left, and only 5 teeth, none of which match up.  He is no threat to anyone.  He only barks at us when we come home and loves Aspen.  He is house broken, pretty much.  I say, pretty much, because he only eats vienna sausages--so his previous rescuers told us-- and if his diet is changed 1 iota, he gets a case of Montazuma's Revenge.  Not bad, if someone is up to let him out in the mornings. 

Well, last night hubs thought he'd be nice and give Geezer a treat and fed him some left over roast beast and since hubs left earlier this morning than Geezer normally goes outside (7:30 am), and I was coveting those extra few minutes of glorious zzzzz's, poor Geezer who doesn't bark and beg to be let outside, just went to the Bathroom to go to the ... um... bathroom.  (Who knew a little 5 pound dog who ate a tablespoon of roast beast could manage to pooey so much in one little bathroom?)

Trust me, without making it to the sink to splash water on my face, by the time I had take the 1 step into the bathroom, I was fully awake, even without my coffee.  I wanted to cry.  I'd been up less than 3 minutes and I'd already wanted to cry.  But before I'd get my coffee, it'd only get better.

My Mom used to say, "You have two choices:  you can laugh or cry about things.  Might as well laugh; it'll make you feel better."  I wasn't ready to "feel better".

I couldn't face the bathroom yet.  I went back to gather needed supplies to clean the carpet AND my much needed coffee, when I walked past the crib and noticed the distinct aroma of a job well done from our Godchild.  She smiled at me and said, "Tinky."  Yes, indeed.  She was stinky.  She like many Americans, does her "duty" first thing in the morning.  :-)

Our routine since she moved in with us a few months ago has been, she wakes up, Poppa feeds her, I get up drink a cuppa java, we all talk and play, then she does her morning "duty" and she has her "Baaaaaaaaaaaa" (bath), gets dressed, we watch 3 kids shows, play, read books, sing, dance (she insists I dance to Barney and Baby Bop while she claps; I guess this is my aerobics), and then it's her morning "nite-nite" I shower and am ready for my day to begin.  If we stray from this routine, she squeaks, flaps, circles all day, and wakes up in the night screaming needing comfort.  So we don't deviate. 

Well, this added more interest to the situation.  I knew she needed fed.  But I knew she needed her "Baaaaaaaaaaa".  I also noticed the bulge around her left ankle which told me that she had taken her arm out of her pj sleeve, undid her diaper, put her arm back into her sleeve (very common practice among 18 month olds) all the while her diaper slid down her pj pant leg.

I hung my head, felt the tears sting my eyes and prayed, "Lord, please let her have undone her diaper after she pooey'd and let it have remained in the diaper.  Please, please, please."

I forgot about my coffee, gathered the cleaning supplies and tossed them from the doorway strategically around the bathroom floor, went back and lifted little Miss "Tinky", noting that her pj's were lumpy and gooey in places that signifyed my prayers were too late.  We waltzed on tiptoes through the maze of poo to the bathtub, I managed to strip and wipe Aspen down clean so her "Baaaaaaaaaaa" would not have to be repeated, thus one child-mess cleaned and she could happily play in the tub while I scrubbed the mess on the floor.

As the tears began to threaten all over again, it became very funny to me.  The whole situation.  I looked up at the clock which never has run correctly no matter how many new batteries we have put in it or how many times we have reset it.  It always is on some other countries time zone.  (We don't throw it out, because it's a good reminder that sometimes, time doesn't matter, and also it reminds us to pray for missionaries we know in other countries--like our daughter and her family!).  I began to giggle.  I looked up at Aspen who had taken the bar of soap and had it sitting on top of her head with her lower lip over her top lip, head cocked to one side, nodding in rythm to a song only she could hear as she pushed her yellow duck up and down the tub's waterway.  I burst into laughter.  She looked up and gave me the most gorgeous smile.  Even if I was sitting on a floor surrounded by little brown "tinky" stains, my world was righting itself.  :-)  Joy is quickly chasing the depression "all done" as Aspen would say.  :-)

No matter what the courts decide today, God is Lord, and may HIS WILL BE DONE!!!!  Not the GAL's nor the Caseworker's, not even mine.  But His and His alone.  May HE protect both her and her mother!  Amen.  :-)

My Grandmother used to say, "Bad beginning, good ending."  After the way my day began, I must be going to have one heck of a great evening!   lol

Blessings to all!  Hugs!

Lynda :-)

PS  I'm going to go get my coffee now.  lol

To my children, I'm old.  To my parent's, I'm young.  To the kids at church, I'm ancient. lol  Yet, when I'm dancing in my living room with my 18 month old Godchild to a Barney & Baby Bop or Wiggles silly song, my heart is light and my joy knows no age.  It's not until she's sweetly sleeping after a busy, busy day of exploring sounds (like how spoons sound on every surface in the house or how penny's sound going down the heater vents) and smells  (we cleaned the frig and sorted shoes and put away boots today) and I finally rest with a hot cup of tea that my knees remind me of how old they think they are.  lol

Age is irrelevent.  (apparently so is spelling! lol)  Sometimes I think like an old person and sometimes the possibilities are endless and I'm a free-thinker like a 5th grader who when faced with a challenge says "why not!"  I do believe there are two schools of thinkers:  the Whys and the Why Nots.  I'm usually in the 2nd group and drive most people nuts.  I can honestly say I learned it from my mother (thanks mom :-)) and I've passed this McGiverism on to both of my children.  My husband is a definate "Why" person unless he's not under pressure or it's something he really wants to do.  (He has a rebellious nature. hehehe)  Since I hit my head, when the depression hits, I tend to be a little "whyish" now.  Sad, but true.  lol

Anywho, having a toddle around again has taught me that I still have a lot to learn, and a very lot to relearn.  It's awesome!  I have an excuse to crawl and play games to work on my balance.  ;-)  Yesterday, I have a very bad balance day.  I hired a teen friend to help me clean for the GAL appointment on Thursday and she saw me bang into walls and fall over non-existant obsticals.  I laughed it off, but it kinda freaked her out at first. I'm just so used to it, I guess.

One of the best things I've learned--or relearned--over these past few great weeks is that children bring me joy and are such delights to have around.  They see the world as we should--new, exciting, different, exploration extrodinare.  No wonder Jesus said we should all be like little children.  :-)

Today I learned that when you're 18 months old you can play the piano with your Poppa's sock on your right hand and your Uncle Mikey's snow boots (size 11) on backwards and it sounds just as good to your Grammie as when you play with your orange fuzzy hat on and jelly on your face.  Today I also learned that if you are 18 months old and if on Monday you pull out your earrings and eat the backs, "this too will pass" apparently through on Tuesday about noon.  :-)  Today, I also learned that sorting and folding clothes for 2 hours by myself was really boring and not nearly as much fun watching a mini WWE wrestler in the middle of an intense match -apparently with my bath towels-- growling and giggling and every once nice neat pile flying everywhich way as my no-longer napping Goddaughter jumped, flopped, and rolled her way accross each once imaginary foe.  I laughed until the tears threatened and of course, when she looked up and wiggled tiny chubby fingers at me, "Come Yaya" (Yaya=Grammie) and then growled, I dove in we tag-teamed everything cotton in site!  Never too old to learn new moves from the 18 month old WWE tiny-tot pro either!  (well, I guess my knees and back'll let me know over tea tonight, lol) But well worth the price!

Having a toddler is keeping me young.  Everyone should borrow one for a day or two, then send 'em home, take 2 asprin, and a long nap.  lol  blessings & hugs!