Somethin' »

This is my little friend.

I’ve introduced you to him on more than one occasion.  I’ve found encouragement, support, resistance, fights, and downright ugliness over him.  I’ve found others who struggle, others who judge, and others who condemn.  My love affair with him has been rocky at best.  I resisted his temptations for far too long when my first two little people came into the world.  By the time, I had my third baby, I was begging for the stuff.  I came off it, had another baby, and got back on it like a true addict making sure they had it ready in the little cup of pills they bring you just after giving birth.  Then I came off of it, cold-turkey and lost my mind.  Thought I had truly done it this time.  Got back on them, even increased them, and didn’t think twice about not partaking of them until about 3 months ago.

Sure, I’m the same person.  Sure, I still struggle with my anger.  And the yelling.  Oh, the yelling.  But it’s not a battle I’ve just rolled over and accepted, I will win it.  Hopefully before my babies are grown and seeing their own psychiatrist.

It’s not just that I would like to have more babies.  (There I said it.  I’ve hinted.  I’ve kinda talked about it.  I would like to have more babies. Let’s get over the shock of that statement, before moving on, shall we?)  I know the ins and outs of this addiction.  I can stay on the pills until the 3rd trimester, if I so desire, if it happens, people, stay on topic!  And then pick right back up where I left off of them.

It’s not that I suddenly have some big stand against them.  If you search your soul and ask God to search you, this article will help you travel that path, and if you still think you need them, you probably do.

It was a combination of things that made me take pause while popping them one morning.  I was kinda zombieafied.  Kinda.  Not bad, just a little… there…  not here, per se, but.. there.  I was having trouble concentrating.  Okay, so some of that’s just me and no amount of things I change could drastically affect that, but it was different.  I couldn’t have one conversation without saying, “Wait,  what was I talking about.”  Or, the dreaded recounting of a story and stopping mid-sentence to try to get the other person to figure out the word I was looking for that fit in the sentence.  And I’m not talking about the “there are kids everywhere interrupting me” kind of thing.  It was when I was fairly well-rested and only talking with my husband.  Frustrating.  It was also the other side-effects.  You know, the other one.   If you don’t, it’s just as well, because my husband would have a stress-out over my mere insinuation of the side-effect.  That’s enough of that, thankyouverymuch. It was also just a gut-feeling that it was time.  I needed to try life again without them.

This time as I was pondering what that life would look like, I decided to google “coming off Zoloft”.  And, lo and behold the wealth of knowledge of the difficulties of doing that.  Not from the medical sites.  They are all brand X “blah.  blah.blah.  slowly.  blah.  under physicians care.  blahblah.”  No, it was real-life kooks just like me, who decided to get off Zoloft and discovered the underbelly of withdrawals that can be worse than the presenting symptoms to get on them, that blogged about them and then lived to tell about it.  They described my last crazy episode to a “T”.  This one, where my friend came running to help me.  Where I really thought I might not make it through the day.  When I thought the problem was that I was crazy enough that I had to be on them, when really it was the withdrawals from suddenly stopping.  So I read, researched, prayed, and read some more.  I talked to my honey.  Researched some more and got smart.  I got ready.  I knew the bandaid had to come off.  I knew that I needed to prepare myself for the chance that the hemorrhaging was as bad as ever underneath, but I knew it was time.  I also knew unlike the quick rip last time, I was gonna pull off them one.little.painful.bit.at.a.time.

So, I said another prayer, and woke the next morning to take 75 milligrams instead of my usual 100.  I went into a tailspin.  Dizzy.  Canyon-head.  Very irritable.  Discontent.  Feeling like I need to climb the walls or out of my skin or something.  I stayed at 75 milligrams until all of that went away.  For me, that was about 10 days.  But I was prepared to stay at that dose for however long it took for me to feel “normal” again.  On the eleventh day, I realized it had been a couple of days that I had not noticed the “stop-motion” movement thing when I turned my head and the headaches had subsided.  So, I cut it to 50 milligrams.  Same thing.  A couple of days of hardcore, “What have I done?”  But it was tolerable because I was expecting it.  And then about 8 or 9 more days for me to feel like I was completely back to normal again.  Time to reduce.  I went down to 25 milligrams.  (Now, I feel like I should stop here and say, if you found me by googling “coming off Zoloft” like I did - then you really ought to see your doctor.  I’m not responsible for you.  Only me.  What I did was done completely with the knowledge that at any point that I felt in over my head I would run straight to my doctor.  Do not do what I did.  I tell you this so that you may find comfort, encouragement, and the urge to see your doctor.)  Again, I waited it out for normalcy.  Again, somehow, about a week and a half of staying at the 25 milligram dose, it found me again.  This is where it began to get a little tricky for me.  I then cut that little sliver of a pill in half again.  Down to about 12 milligrams a day.  Held this and waited.  Note, here:  by the 25 milligram mark, the withdrawal symptoms were considerably less at the outset than going from 100 down to 75.  About a week and a half and I cut that 12 milligrams in half.  This was difficult by now, because I don’t have one of those little nifty pill cutter things.  About 2 weeks later that 6 milligrams had turned into a shaving of a dose.  But I stayed the course and took it.  I think it was about this point that I decided to quit it all together.  Just because it was so hard to cut it that small anymore.  So I did.  The bandaid was removed.  And so far, there were no signs of a hemorrhage.  This was a physically difficult leap.  Much like the very first reduction.  Very dizzy.  Headaches.  Cranky.  Spacey.   But it, too, eventually passed.  And now, a month or so later - I’m free.  Right after I came off and the withdrawals had disappeared I kept waiting.  For something to go terribly wrong.  I held my breath.  Waiting.  And yet, nothing.  Clarity in my thinking.  Emotions, huh, what’s that?  You mean, I cry again at sweet movies and sad stories?  Full thoughts.  Short-term memory was back.  So, I just knew something was going to go terribly wrong.  But it never did.  I have noticed, that I am on edge a little more, you know, over things like cornstarch, but, really, who isn’t?  I don’t know about you.  But.  For me.  For now.  This is working and I’m thankful.  When it ceases to work, well, then, I’ll do something else.

I'mPublished!, Somethin', TheHolidays »

(the picture was pulled from a post that i drafted just over a year ago on one of the rare occasions that i went overboard and filled my cabinet.  many emotions attached to this little picture.)

On this day of thanks I’m finally able to write about it.  The full story of what we went through last fall.  I shared some it along the way when I could no longer contain my emotions at the time, but as we were brought out from where we were this time last year the memories of it faded away.  Until the other day.  With a simple prayer it all came back.  And then while reading to my children about the pilgrims about how that first winter they lost half of those who had come over from England.  How they had starved.  How the next spring things began to change.  The sun came out and God’s blessings began to flow in abundance.  And I began crying over these people from so long ago.  I could somehow, kind of, relate.  And I realized how thankful I am.  How much He has given us.  And how at this second Thanksgiving in this home the food and blessings are in absolute abundance.  He heard my cry.  He answered my prayer.

Please come read my heart that I’ve finally been able to expose.

Somethin' »

Can you find them both?

They called me outside to “see what we did.” 

And while I stood looking at my child in the top of that tree I ran through my options.  I could fuss, I could yell, I could stand at the bottom and worry and wait for him to get down - letting my fear, concern, and disapproval show.  Or I could put into practice the advice a stranger offered up at McDonald’s Playland the other day.  She watched as I couldn’t contain my youngest.  He was all over the place - climbin’ right up in the tunnel slides with all the other ones.  Gigglin’ and yellin’ to beat the band.  After he came out of one of the slides with 2 fresh bumps on his head I could take no more.  I strapped him safely into his stroller.  Oh the fits that followed.  And the mama who’s a tad further down this parenting road said, “Tsk, tsk, Mama.  Let that baby run.”  And I told her all about how he gets hurt all the time, how little he is, how fearless he is, and how my nerves could simply not take anymore.  She said she knew - she had one that was 15 now.  That my little one reminded her of him.  That sometimes you’ve gotta let ‘em be boys.  Know when to turn your head.  Practice being calm.  And then pick them up and carry them to the E.R.  She went on to tell me how last summer, without her knowledge, her fearless boy decided to jump his bike across their pool.  She said the bike made it into the water.  The boy was not so lucky.  On the way home from the hospital, he said to her, “Huh, I guess that wasn’t so smart.”  She said to me, “Turn that boy loose, he’s gotta be.”  And I did.  And his little boy-spirit soared.  He romped, and climbed and slid, and loved life - not worrying once about those new bumps on his noggin.

So, what did I do about the boy in the top of the tree?  Did I stand and make sure he got down safely?  Did I scold him and bring him in? 

Nope.  I heard that wiser mama’s words ringing in my ears and I said, “Yep, that’s very cool.  Be really careful.”  And I walked back inside.  So as to maintain a thread of my sanity.  And waited with abated breath knowing that I’d be grabbing van keys and running to the hospital.  I didn’t.  I was spared.  This time.  I know that I can’t protect them at all times.  I know there will be injuries.  I know the risks.  But I also know that I cannot crush their spirit.  I know that they need danger.  They need to walk on the wild side.  And sometimes we all need a little fearlessness in our lives.

Somethin' »

right next to the sink where i see it when i wash the dishes.  my boys found it in the brush that’s by our house.  i’ve left it just as it was when they brought it in.  it pierces my heart each time i look at it.

you see, we got an amazing deal on this house.  remember back when we wanted this house so badly?  while we were waiting during the bidding process on this house we began to ask questions.  why does it all look so new inside?  why did the people have it foreclosed on?  why was it so cheap?  why, when looking inside the walls, are some of the studs brand new and some look like they have water damage?

it’s a small town.  and people ’round here are more than willin’ to talk.  most of the questions we had, were answered before they were even asked. 

there was a young family with several very small children.  not unlike our own.  who had a house fire.  and the inside burnt out.  they were not wealthy.  not unlike us.  and so, were rebuilding a little at a time.  and then one of their children got sick.  very sick.  and they lost that child.  the details are sketchy - at least for us.  the most i know is that the phone guy said, when he was hooking up our new line, “yeah, that littl’un of theirs wasn’t any higher than that one there of yours.” - pointing to my girl when she was not quite 2. 

and then all gossip stops.  the family lost the house.  did they walk away?  did they struggle to keep it right up to the end?  i don’t know.  i was told that they lived right down the road from us in a duplex.  they had to pass by everyday to get into town.  do they still live there?  do they watch my children playing in the yard?  do they harbor ill feelings toward us?  the young family with several small children, not unlike them, who are living in their dream home? 

there were a few remnants here and there from their life in this house.  we found some returned checks in the kitchen cabinet.  and they were Bible verse checks.  something about that gives me pause, as i think about their values, that seem to be not unlike ours.  and there are still parts of toys that will surface from time to time in the yard.  just the other day we found a melted plastic blob.  melted beyond recognition.  once there was a toddler toothbrush.  while we were exploring the brush behind the house we came upon what was left of a burnt mattress.  a crib mattress.

there’ve been blackened glass candles.  not unlike the kind i buy.  there’ve been soda bottles and the framing for a vanity that once sat in someone’s room. 

and there was this.  the broken, dirty, blackened nativity.  that was once unpacked for Christmastime.  and it makes me sad.  brokenhearted for this family i don’t know.  it sobers me.  that nothing is for certain.  it humbles me that i don’t have it as bad as i sometimes think.  it keeps me grounded.  that no matter how motivated i am, i don’t control my destiny.  and it gives me hope.  that this family might lean not on their own understanding, but that they would be reminded that this baby who’s likeness was cast in ceramics came to give them a hope that is not bound on this earth. 

and so it sits by my kitchen sink.  for those rare times in our wildly chaotic house when i have uninterrupted time washing dishes.  i pray.  for this family.  as often as i think of them. 

Somethin' »

i am alive and, look, i have a blog. 

okay, now that we’ve established those two pretty important facts we’ll move on to where in the world i’ve been.

last friday we did the full shopping trip like last time.  ran back to the in-laws, picked up our children, ran home put away groceries, and started the clean-up i should’ve done earlier in the week for company.  that company came in and proceeded to help me clean.  oh, the shame.  my husband ran for the hills (went to his friend’s house to have man time) and we welcomed the other half of our company.  after babies were all put to bed we stayed up and girl-talked until 2 in the morning.

with the sunrise came children.  and doggies!  we had three grownups, 1 six year old, 1 five year old, 1 three year old, 1 almost three year old, and 2 one year olds.  plus, two very cute and very active doggies.

we went to a kids’ fest (where my oldest climbed a 40 foot rockwall to the top and pushed the i-did-it! buzzer!), slid down a huge slide while holding a 2 year old and a one year old, resisted the urge to buy a hamster and stop at 3 different garage sales.  we got fancy ice cream from the ice cream truck and played at the park.  we started a build-a-bear birthday tradition with my sister (dropped the 5 year old off with her) and took the rest of the kiddos to a playland, picked up the 5 year old and his new stuffed bunny, thanked the sister profusely, and went to the zoo.  for 3 hours.  we rode a camel.  saw a baby gorilla and a baby camel.  learned more than we ever wanted to know about reptiles (my boy children’s newest fav exhibit) and insects.  picked up hot-n-ready pizza (oh, little ceasar’s what would we do without thee?) and ran home for dinner, baths, and bedtimes. 

i got sick, lost my voice, and found it again.  my daughter got the croup and i fitted in a doctor’s visit and steroids.  we watched doggies fight and play and have the time of their lives.  we had fits, fall-outs, and crying jags.  we watched babies walk, crawl, fall, cry and giggle.  we felt the burn of baby-wearing while pushing double strollers up hills both ways.  we heard kiddos fight, play, and laugh.  we soothed tears, fears, and woes.  we celebrated their accomplishments. we gave and accepted wife and motherly advice.  we watched as our friend crocheted a beautiful blanket for other friends just beginning their baby adventure.  and my children learned about crocheting, undivided attention, and gentleness from the most patient and loving woman on the planet.  we watched our wonderful friend find her way with 2 little ones in the same place i once was.  and she taught us laughter, endurance, and exuberance.  we loved on a very bothered daisy cat.  we talked politics, the pope, and poop.  we laughed, cried, prayed, and wished we lived closer.  we packed up, hugged, and waved goodbye. 

and we sat in the quiet and missed them.

Somethin' »

tonight i was lining the kids up for baths and thinking again that i should really do a “how i do what i do” post on bathing in our house, when i got to my oldest child.  a boy.  i went ahead and washed his hair and his feet (flip-flops and the park leave their mark) since i had run a full bath for the others and we were likely going to run out of hot water and definitely out of time before bed for his very own shower that he now takes all the time.  i then handed him the soap and told him to “finish up.”  he stood and turned around to wash.  when did this happen?  when did this child that i knew every dimple, every flaw, every perfection begin to turn into a stranger? 

and of course, the answer is: a little at a time.  when he no longer wore diapers, no longer needed help dressing, wiping, buckling his seatbelt, washing his hands.  and i’m aware (acutely so) that it will continue along this path until i wonder who it is that stands before me.

i recognize it in the ones coming up after him, as well.  they are slowly becoming the people i’m striving so hard to get them to be.  my sweet second child that i, somehow assumed would never get big, is.  my girl, who is just coming out of diapers, is taking her first strides into independence.  and i’m a little sad at the loss of the knowledge of every aspect of their little lives.  even as i celebrate their bigness each step of the way. 

may i continue to walk that line of parenting carefully and mindfully and joyfully. 

Somethin' »

my honey went to a new job this morning.  everbody breathe a collective sigh of relief with me.  and pray for him.  that he would make friends.  that he would learn the ways quickly.  that his boss would be a godly man or one that wants to be.  pray that this job would see us into responsibility and new friends.  we’ve been brought low and i know that He has allowed us to be without friends in order to turn to Him and to each other.  may He now bring us to others. 

this has been a long road.  and we don’t know what to expect.  except that he left this morning armed with paperwork for actual health insurance and benefits (wow, what are those?!)  and a $10,000 raise.  yes, we have broken into the $40,000 dollar range.  $40,019.20 to be exact.  why am i so scared?  because our society is built to keep people on assistance.  i’m scared to go it alone.  we’ll be dropping medicaid soon.  we’ll be reporting the money and see if they’ll let us keep any of the food stamps.  we will still be keeping the wic.  we want to be able actually pay our bills.  on time.  and feed our family.  and get the oil changed.  and share with others.  of course we want to be able to occasionally get underwear and socks when they’re needed.  and we’d love to be able to let the kids play ball and go to dance.  and get actual furniture that would get the mattress off the floor and piles of stuff out of the corners.  but right now, we’ll focus on paying those bills. 

this money won’t solve all of our problems.  but it will relieve some pressure. 

since christmas, we’ve had the food stamps come through and we got our tax return early.  and then we’ve gotten word on this job.  the blessings have flowed.  and we’ve eaten like kings. 

let me not forget, Lord.  i will build an altar to You.  for all good things come from You.  i will have an attitude of undeservedness.  i don’t deserve anything that i get.  let me share with others.  let me not forget how it felt to be hungry.  how it felt to ration food to my children that they would have food and not go to bed hungry.  how it felt to be downcast.  how it felt to be looked at as less.  help me to build up others that have that look.  help me to bless them as i was blessed in those times.  help me to not forget how good it felt to pay those first bills on time.  to walk into the water office and hold my head high.  to not hope the check would go through, but to know it was good.  help me to remember, Father, how it felt to not know if i’d have electricity through the day.  help me to praise You in the good times.  to thank You.  to be mindful of others that You are bringing through a hard time.  help me to remember they don’t deserve where they are.  just as i don’t deserve the sunshine right now, nor do they deserve the rain. 

that i may remember.

Somethin' »

i watched my oldest son become a little more of a man today. i watched as he stood contemplating the jump he would have to make to cross the creek at the park. he knew he couldn’t just take the bridge. and i knew it was a moment that had to happen. even as everyone else was being loaded into the van and my mama instinct wanted to cry out, “get in the van for crying out loud! we’re all waiting. just jump already, or wade through it, or cross the bridge for goodness’ sake.” but i knew it was much more than a boy-need to jump. it was a coming of age moment. even my second son who is more the dare devil and jumper extraordinaire took a little bounce and uneventfully went on through the water. and the look was there in his eyes too. one of needing to prove himself. but amazingly it was as if he knew his older brother needed to prove it a little more than him. or maybe he knew it wasn’t his time yet. but my oldest did. and i watched. as he, time and again, ran from a distance away and stopped abruptly at the water’s edge each time. not quite ready. time and again he checked to see if i was watching.

there was one time after trying and losing his nerve several times that he squatted down and put his chin in his hands. and shook his head. this was not going to get the better of him. he was determined. but still unsure. standing on the brink of… something bigger. something he’d never done. something he needed to do.

and then he did. and he fell and got wet up to the knees. and it wasn’t a soaring success of perfection. but he was proud. he held his chest out a little further. because even with the fall, he knew he didn’t back down. he knew when he felt the need to prove himself, he proved himself worthy.

Somethin' »

(we’ll get back to the moving the site thing later - right now, i want to post this on every site i have.)

i have a friend that posts on the homeschooling site with me.  she posted this message tonight.  i read it and i honestly thought, no offense girl friend!, that it couldn’t possibly be as bad as she described.  but it is. 

just in case you don’t follow the link i will recount her experience and what followed.  because i’m that mad.

in fact, i’ll just quote her and then i’ll tell you my story.

“You’re the Photographer

Just yesterday we went to Taco Bell. I wanted to be kind and get some tacos for the children. In the bag was Purple Taco Bell Hot Sauce packets. Purple? Well, that’s new. On the packet there was a website URL address. What is this I wonder? I type in the url and it takes me to a vitural photographer activity where YOU are the photographer and a string bikini clad model is waiting for you in a virtual setting. The object of the game is to snap some shots of her. No matter where on the screen you try to manuever the camera lens, it defaults you to her chest and behind. She glares sensually into the camera posing in sexually suggestive poses.

I am appalled!

So I call 1-800-TACO-BELL and speak to a representative and explain why this frustrates me and that I am concerned about children finding this website. She says, “Let me go to our site and see what I can find.” She types in tacobell.com and doesn’t see it, Yet when you click on the purple hot sauce packet it takes you there.

I told her that I will not be a patron at Taco Bell anymore unless this campaign stops immediately. I said, “How dare Taco Bell have an ad campaign like this! Not only is it innapropriate, but to add the link to this website to their own packets is just disgusting.”

Families who value any kind of decency should call their number and file their grievance.

She herself was upset at the description I gave her. She said she would be sure to let them know how I felt and I assured her other families would be calling her soon. So please call today. Families need to take a stand and let their voices be heard!”

so, being a little disbelieving and cynical i google taco bell.  just to make sure i have the real site.  yep.  i go the official site.  the site right now is built around this campaign.  big purple packet.  i click it.  i click that yes, i am up for the game.  and that’s it - i’m snapping shots of a model’s body parts in a string bikini.  maybe on the surface this is not that big of a deal in our current society.  except that i have children.  i have boys who will have to deal with these things.  i have a daughter that i have to train up differently than this girl who used to be somebody’s little 2 year old princess.  and it’s not like it’s a victoria’s secret site.  it’s fast food, people.  FAST FOOD.  they put the packet with the url right there on it in the sack.  not a flier with a “we’ll mail you something with the url.”  no.  it makes me furious.  from the magazines that are in walmart eye level and next to the candy at the check out to the wall-sized posters of the victoria’s secrets’ models facing into the mall to fast food.  i consider myself to be somewhat lenient and understanding.  we don’t wear ankle-length dresses around here.  i do go to the mall occasionally.  i read harry potter and i didn’t support the walt disney boycott.  (no offense, again, to all my friends who fit these categories!) but i will be calling 1-800-taco-bell during their business hours to complain.  and i will not be eating there until this is resolved.  and i will post this everywhere i can.  and i will beg y’all to make calls.  and i will make a difference for decency and i will attempt to make the world a little better for my little ones.  or at least to keep it from getting decidedly worse.  will you join me?

Somethin' »

several of you have asked how we fared in the storms last night.  we were completely spared.  we set up camp in the bathroom where we had an air mattress over us, cleared off the shelves, put our spidey couch and princess chair in the bathtub and i quietly lost my mind with 4 little people with emotions ranging from terrified (my oldest) to absolutely stir crazy (the 2 youngest).  i hesitate to even comment on the insanity of the scene because we are all well and our little plot of land was untouched.  i love storms.  it’s something my husband and i share.  we love to see the rain come across an open field and love the idea of storm chasing.  however, there are times, especially since having children, that i am respectfully scared.  and last night i was very concerned a few times.  the sirens were going off all around us.  the news called our city by name.  we had 3 lines of storms come through.  each time the warning passed leaving us safe, if a little shaken, and preparing for the next one.  we didn’t even lose our electricity.  we are thankful and will continue to pray for the harder hit areas.  thanks for asking.