i refuse to invalidate his feelings

He’s little. He’s pretty sure you hung the moon. You’ve always been frequently present.

And then, suddenly, you aren’t there anymore.

You don’t call him. You don’t text him. (You can do both, you know. His iPad has iMessage and FaceTime and you have an iPhone. You don’t even have to go through his parents to do so.) You visit once or twice a month, for 10 or 15 minutes, when it’s convenient for you.

For a young child, it is the equivalent of a parental divorce with a bad custody arrangement. It doesn’t matter who you are to him. You could be mom’s or dad’s significant other. You could be the nanny. You could be big brother, big sister, cousin, Aunt, or Uncle. You could be Grandma or Grandpa. Your blood connection is irrelevant to a child. Their heart connection to you is what matters to them; and unfortunately for children, they love without reservation.

But when he asks why you aren’t there, do NOT expect dishonesty. I will not lie because it makes you feel better about yourself. You have yet to be open and honest with us about why you CHOSE not to be there. We only have the answer you gave us. And that is the answer we will give him. We will not allow you to blame him, for he is only a child and his mind changes with the wind.

And when he cries and tells me that he feels angry and hurt and like you don’t come and don’t call because you don’t love him, I will NOT defend you and I will NOT invalidate his feelings. They are his feelings, and if I invalidate them now, he will not learn to trust his own feelings as he grows and matures. It’s no different than when he gets angry and acts out. He’s allowed to BE angry, he isn’t allowed to get away with acting out. So, when he’s crying because he feels angry and hurt and unloved by your actions, or rather by your inaction, I will hold him. I will snuggle him. I will love on him and tell him that *I* love him. I will tell him that Jesus loves him. And I will tell him that I’m sorry that you don’t make time to see him or talk to him; and I will ask him to forgive you because if he doesn’t, it will only hurt him worse to hold onto that anger and hurt.

So That We Might All Live Free

The American Serviceman or Servicewoman

A man; a woman; a life; put at risk so that you; so that I; might live free.

Since the Revolutionary War, when Americans declared, fought for, and WON their independence from Great Britain, more than 800,000 American Servicemen and Servicewomen have given their life in the line of duty so that you; so that I; might live free.

Since the Revolutionary War, when Americans declared, fought for, and WON their independence from Great Britain, more than 1.5 million American Servicemen and Servicewomen have been injured fighting so that you; so that I; might live free.

The Department of Defense lists 1.3 million active duty military personnel and more than 800,000 reservists as of December 31, 2013. American Servicemen and Servicewomen serving daily so that you; so that I; might live free.

Today is Veteran's Day. Even if you don't tell an American Veteran that you appreciate them any other day of the year, do it today.

Remember, they sacrifice so that we might all live free.

To all of my family and friends who serve or have served, THANK YOU. I appreciate your sacrifices, and those your families make so that you may do your job, so that we might all live free.

©Anna Marie Hall

©My Little Mess

Learning Something New

Every day is an opportunity to learn. Sometimes we take advantage of that opportunity. And, sometimes we don't even notice that we did.

In the last 32 years, I've learned a LOT, though I didn't always realize it. I'm going to strive to pay more attention to what happens to me each day, in the hopes that I will notice how much more I'm learning.

Some of the things I've learned...

There are still good people in this world, that care more about others and less about themselves.

Sometimes, having someone to just "be" there for you is more important than what they can "do"  or "buy" for you. By all means, appreciate what people "do" for you, but help them realize that it's not the "doing for" that means anything to you, it's the "being there."

No matter how much you think you've "survived" an experience (good or bad) in your life, it still affects you. And the longer you ignore how you really feel about it, the harder it is to get past. And if you continue to ignore it, overcoming may become impossible.

Sometimes things that happen to you SCARE you. And, no matter how belittled others make you feel about the fact that you're SCARED, you still have every right to have that panic attack.

It's okay to be angry. Just remember to direct the anger to the right place.

Crying can be cleansing. It's okay if you need to sit down and quietly let tears fall. It's okay if you need to ball up and sob. Either way, let those tears wash away the pain or fear or anxiety or anger, or whatever else emotion, you are feeling.

The best of intentions do not guarantee success.

Trust, once destroyed, is not easily repaired.

Jealousy will eat you alive, almost literally.

Social Media is good.

Social Media is bad.

What did you learn today?

Social Media as a Clothesline

social media
n. websites and other online means of communication that are used by large groups of people to share information and to develop social and professional contacts.


clothesline
n. a strong, narrow rope, cord, wire, etc., usually stretched between two poles, posts, or buildings, on which clean laundry is hung to dry.


emphasis
n. special stress laid upon, or importance attached to, anything.

In the definition of the word, clothesline, above, using bold, highlighted, italics, I have placed emphasis on the word clean.

Many of us use our social media outlets - to include blogs like this one! - to express our feelings (both good and bad) about certain topics. We do this in a multitude of ways.

Perhaps it is a rant posted in haste as a tweet on Twitter or a status on Facebook.

Perhaps it is our opinion of Adam Levine's blond hair; or our glee when he went back to dark hair.

Perhaps it is our thoughts on the results we got on one of those silly quizzes.

Perhaps we share links to posts, articles and blogs that we find relatable.(I recently did this, and I can't figure out how to link to just that post on Facebook, but I think I'm going to blog that one because it still seems important to me, even now, so watch for that post.)

Perhaps we share memes that are meaningful to us or relative to our relationships or emotions.

And then, sometimes, we just get downright nasty. And that, my friends, is where I have a problem.

If you have a problem with someone, talk to that person. Or, if you don't think you can just yet (I know, sometimes you have to get to a "place" where you can talk to them out of love instead of hurt or anger...and sometimes that takes YEARS, and sometimes when that place comes, the thing you were so bent out of shape about doesn't even matter anymore), vent your frustrations to your spouse, mom, dad or best friend. But using social media to air your dirty laundry is a bad idea, all the way around. Some things just are meant for public viewing; everything has its place - like yoga pants.

You might use social media as a clothesline, but remember that clotheslines are intended for clean laundry.

Adventures in Kindergarten - Month 1

Gentry Primary School. Ugh.

Buies Creek Elementary School. Yay!

But, how? Ahh...school reassignment request. APPROVED!

We finally got the approval that Levi would be accepted to Buies Creek Elementary School despite that it's outside of our home "district". We were so excited. He would be attending a good school.

We went to assessment in late August. NIGHTMARE. Levi rebelled. Badly. It was probably a sign. I ignored it.

School started on September 3 for Levi. He both loves and hates it. He hates that there's no free time & no center-based play. He loves learning and is truly learning a LOT despite his difficulty settling in.

So, we're a month into school now. He is doing better but still struggling a little to get used to the new routines. His progress report indicated he was right where they expect him to be ("M - Making progress towards grade-level proficiency"). His handwriting is improving, his reading skills are developing and he's intrigued by math. He still hates the routine. With time, I think he will adjust; OCD makes change hard for him.

Be in prayer for him as he continues on this journey.


"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace." ~ Numbers 6:24-26

Eight Years

Eight years is a long time.

But I remember like it was yesterday.

It's about 1pm. I'm sitting in the stylist's chair at Diamond Cuts when it was still in that tiny building on Ramsey Street.

My phone rings. It's Amanda. She's upset.

"They found Keith dead this morning," she says.

"Tiffany?" I ask.

It brings ache to my soul to think that my very first thought was that the mother of his child was responsible.

But in the end, my gut instinct was right. Deadly accurate.

Eight years ago today, they found my husband's best friend, Donald Keith West, dead. From a gunshot wound sustained in his own home, in his own bed, while he slept peacefully.

More than 2 years later, Tiffany would plead guilty to second degree murder.

Keith's sister, my dear friend Rhonda, and her husband would go on to raise Keith's daughter, Lily Marie, who will turn 9 later this year.

Though time passes faster than we'd like, this day doesn't seem to get any easier.

Rest in Peace, Big Daddy.

In loving memory of Donald Keith West
July 30, 1966 - July 18, 2006

It's Been A While...

...since there was an update on the boy.

Levi just celebrated his FIFTH birthday!

He is full of personality. He is loving. He is smart...so very smart! He is funny. He is a trouble-maker. He is a heart breaker. He has these looks that just melt your heart. He has these sayings that just make you giggle...even when you should be scolding him. He is rude. He is a boy. He is OCD. He is determined.

He is perfect, well...he's is the perfect Levi Johnson Hall, anyway. :)

He is HEALTHY. Other than a flu shot in November, his 5-year well-check on February 11, 2014 was his FIRST visit at the pediatrician's office since his 4-year well-check on February 12, 2013. Previously, our record was 3 months between sick visits. It's been a YEAR. A whole YEAR. I'm excited...can you tell? We are still followed by Immunology and Pulmonology at Duke, and of course, he's had a cold here and there or an asthma flare-up, but we've been able to manage everything with NO ANTIBIOTICS and only 3 courses of STEROIDS. We have been very blessed.

He is such an old man.

He sits just like his Great Granddaddy ["Granddaddy" to him], with his little legs crossed at the knee, which makes my heart sing because Granddaddy loves him so and I think it's so special that he ended up with a trait from one of his great grandparents.

His eyes are beautiful. And weird. And they change colors. Blue. Gray. Green. Golden. Sometimes so deep they appear purple. And every now & then you catch a glimpse of just plain old brown. It fascinates me. And the color is telling...of his moods...if they're blue, get ready for a great big hug...if they're green be prepared for an apocalyptic zombie-like attack...if they're gray, prepare yourself to be licked up the side of your face or have him climb up in your lap just to pass gas on you and take off running or just generally be mischievous.

He doesn't understand personal space. It's perfectly acceptable to him to put his nose to your nose just to tell you hello. Or climb up in your lap, even if you're a perfect stranger.

He sneaks...like a ninja...out of his bed and into his daddy's & mine on a regular basis. We've timed it. It has taken up to 30 minutes for him to get out of bed, walk down the hall, climb onto the foot of our bed and inch his way up to the pillows between us. It's hard to pretend you're asleep so he doesn't know you've busted him when all you really want to do is belly laugh out loud. [I told you in the beginning he was determined!]

He says things like, "I'm not talking about at this moment. I mean, at the other moment. You know, when I was in the shower?" This moment...really, kid?! What happened to "a while ago" or "earlier" or "right now"?!

Anyway...enjoy these shots from our Mom-Tog moment...I didn't put my good friend Carrie Small out to do his 5-year old pics...yet. ;) I'm still trying to decide if I love these enough to use them, or if I'm gonna cave and take him to "Miss Carrie" after all..we shall see...

I sure do love you, kid...to the moon & back...to pieces...even more than that!

The Race Card

I'm white. No, really. I am. Well, except that my maternal grandmother was a Cherokee Indian. And my maternal grandfather was Scottish. And I'm pretty sure my paternal grandmother was Irish. And I strongly suspect there's some more Native American blood on my paternal grandfather's side. So...maybe I'm not really white after all. Wait, what does it mean to be "white"?

Either way, it doesn't really matter. I'm an American. I was raised in an American home, taken to church regularly, taught to respect my elders, taught to respect authority, and taught to work for what I have. I was raised surrounded by family with the same ideals (church, respect, work). I was raised to not sit around waiting for others to take care of me.

I've been friends with people of all races. Some of my closest friends are "people of color" - that is, they're African American. Or Black. Whatever label you want to put on them. I'm not friends with these people because they are African Americans. I'm friends with them because I value them. I appreciate them as PEOPLE. I believe they have good hearts and good heads.

My husband & I have practically adopted (or been adopted into?) a Hispanic family from church. I love them as though they are my brother, sister, niece and nephews. I'd do anything within my power for them. I never had siblings growing up. And, being stabbed in the back by the closest thing I did have to a sibling just a few years ago really took a toll on my ability to love and trust people, even those related to me by blood. So, to have found a brother and sister - whom I love and trust - has been a true blessing. I don't look at them as being Puerto Rican or Mexican. I look at them as my brother and his wife, my sister. I look at their children as my niece and my nephew. And I hope they will always consider me their sister; their Ti-Ti. I don't love them because they're Hispanic. I love them because they are people who have the same ideals that I do (church, respect, work).

I guess what I'm trying to say is that, in general, when I look at people, I try to evaluate them for WHO they are. Not what color their skin is.

Today, one of those friends of mine, who happens to be African American, said to me as we disagreed about something, "You won't ever understand. You'd have to change the color of your skin in order to understand."

I'm sorry, what?! I won't go into the difference of opinions that led to this comment. That's not really important. In fact, none of this is really important to any of you reading this, it's just important to me that I vent my frustration at having someone pull that card with ME. It hurt. A lot. I try to be respectful of most everyone (except for maybe extreme liberals because they're generally just idiots), and to not judge them based on the color of their skin. I try to look past outward appearances in all cases, not just in cases of skin color, to the person INSIDE. I have to admit, I am deeply saddened to see - to learn - that this friend sees ME as a white girl instead of as a human being. Here, _____, you can have The Race Card back. I don't want it. Save for the next "injustice" you see.

Time for a Public Announcement

So, I suppose the time has come for me to come clean. I've tried to keep from sharing but as this thing progresses, it gets harder to hide.

And...for those of you who think I'm about to spill news of a pregnancy...well...get that little thought right out of your minds!

So, here's the big announcement: I'm having brain surgery! [Doesn't that sound like fun?]

[Excerpts from National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke]

What are Chiari malformations?

Chiari malformations (CMs) are structural defects in the cerebellum, the part of the brain that controls balance. Normally the cerebellum and parts of the brain stem sit in an indented space at the lower rear of the skull, above the foramen magnum (a funnel-like opening to the spinal canal). When part of the cerebellum is located below the foramen magnum, it is called a Chiari malformation.

CMs may develop when the bony space is smaller than normal, causing the cerebellum and brain stem to be pushed downward into the foramen magnum and into the upper spinal canal. The resulting pressure on the cerebellum and brain stem may affect functions controlled by these areas and block the flow of cerebrospinal fluid (CSF)— the clear liquid that surrounds and cushions the brain and spinal cord—to and from the brain.

How are they classified?
Type I involves the extension of the cerebellar tonsils (the lower part of the cerebellum) into the foramen magnum, without involving the brain stem. Normally, only the spinal cord passes through this opening. Type I—which may not cause symptoms—is the most common form of CM and is usually first noticed in adolescence or adulthood, often by accident during an examination for another condition. Type I is the only type of CM that can be acquired.

[End excerpts]

I have Type I Chiari malformation. I was first diagnosed about 12 years ago after a bout with severe occipital migraines with vision impairment. It is still unknown whether the CM was actually to blame for those migraines, which resolved after several rounds of trigger-point injections into the occipital area of my head.

Fast-forward to July 2012.

I crawl into bed one night, close my eyes and suddenly feel as though I'm riding the Gravitron and I can't make it stop. I spend the next several days bouncing in and out of dizzy whirlwinds that don't actually exist. Within a few more days, I notice that it feels like my heart is skipping beats. Basically, I feel: beat---beat---beat---pause------------------beat-beat-beat---beat---beat. This heart thing always happens when I'm dizzy but I can be dizzy and not notice the heart thing. Did that make sense? Anyway, I decided to see the doctor who refers me to a Cardiologist. Diagnosis: Vertigo and Premature Ventricular Contractions. Both "no big deal."

November rolls around and I'm still dizzy a good part of the time and I've been having this niggling little headache. Not like, "I need a tylenol" headache or anything, just more of a "can my head just stop hurting already?!" headache. One day late in the month, I drive over to see my mom at work on my lunch break. 5.0 miles away. I have made the drive hundreds of times over the 14 years I've had a drivers' license. I make 3 wrong turns trying to return to work. At each point, nothing - NOTHING - in my surroundings seems familiar. I finally pull over into a parking lot and use the GPS on my phone to lead me back to work. I would go on to experience several more instances of geographical confusion; eventually using GPS to drive pretty much anywhere.

In January, I make a doctor's appointment for a complete physical. My PCP refers me to a neurologist in Raleigh. Over the next several weeks, I experience lots of testing:

• MRI: Confirmed Chiari Type I. It is this Neurologist's opinion that Chiari is asymptomatic.
• VNG: Diagnosed with 45% Vestibular Loss of Function in left ear. - This Neurologist thinks this is to blame for the dizziness. Prescribes Vestibular Therapy.
• Sleep Study: Diagnosed with sleep apnea with an AHI of 65. This Neurologist thinks this is to blame for fatigue, headaches and confusion. Prescribes CPAP.

In March, I start the therapy for the Vestibular issue. Within 3 weeks of beginning therapy, my nystagmus is worsening, I am having full-blown occipital migraines, and my dizziness symptoms have become so severe that at times, I have trouble walking without supporting myself with a wall or person. I see two separate therapists during this time frame. The first, who does eye testing on me, says, basically, that he is leaning towards this being a "central issue" rather than caused by the vestibular function issue. The other, who does a balance test on me, recommends I see a neurosurgeon with haste believing firmly that the Chiari is to blame.

I have a follow-up with the Neurologist who ordered all those test & made all those decisions. She makes me feel like a hypochondriac and tries to push pills down my throat. At the insistence of a friend at work, I sought a referral for a second opinion.

Somewhere along in this mix, I start having difficulties with "word finding" - I struggle to find the words I'm looking for, or sometimes just say the wrong thing altogether.

Enter: Dr. Justin Mhoon, MD, Chair of the Neurology Division at Duke's Department of Neurology. Dr. Mhoon examines me, spends about 35 minutes talking to me, and orders an MRI with SINE study. This test takes approximately 2 hours. It is an MRI of my head, brain, c-spine and t-spine, with a test to determine the flow of spinal fluid in and around those areas scanned. Results: 1. Findings of Chiari type I malformation with approximately 1.1 cm cerebellar tonsillar ectopy. CSF flow study demonstrates diminished flow posterior to the cerebellum and within the distal jugular system. No cord syrinx is identified.

Dr. Mhoon refers me to a Duke Neurosurgeon and an ENT. After a complete ENT workup that was pointless [Yes, Ms. Hall, you do have a confirmed 45% loss of vestibular function, however, it appears that your brain has already compensated for that loss of function and therapy would not be beneficial to you], I had a consult with Dr. Bagley, Director of Neurosurgery for Duke.

And, sooo, I say all of that to say this:

Sometimes I don't feel well. Sometimes the room is spinning around me. Sometimes I need to use my GPS to drive home from work. Sometimes I really just need to hide and take a nap. Sometimes I just need you to pray for me to have a better day. Sometimes I stumble. Sometimes I catch myself and sometimes I even fall. Sometimes I call the microwave a dishwasher and the can opener a toaster. Sometimes I get mad that you drank all the milk when we're out of bread. Sometimes I'll ask you to put my purse in the sink when there isn't a sink in sight. Sometimes I will forget things that I did or said. Sometimes I will feel like I'm choking or can't get enough air even when there's nothing wrong. Sometimes I won't be able to pick up that paperclip or peel that sticker off my apple. Sometimes it will take all of my energy just to lift my arms.

Please don't judge me. Over the next few months, I will progressively get worse as I have since this time a year ago; so if I say something stupid to you, please just smile and nod like it made perfect sense. And, please remember me in your prayers as December approaches. Surgery is scheduled for December 2 at Duke.

Thank you.

Breakfast

Levi l.o.v.e.s. pancakes. And waffles. AND French toast. But, don't tell him that. Because waffles are yucky. And nooooo, I can't eat French toasted.

Did you ever ask a server at Waffle House for a pancake? They look at you just a little funny. And the manager will tell you that's a dirty word.

And then you have to beg them to accommodate your 3-year old who thinks every fluffy golden sweetness on which you pour "sticky syrup" is a pancake. So, for the sake of all that's good and holy, please just call it a pancake so he'll eat breakfast like a normal human being. PLEASE.

Tonight, he runs to me [while I sweat over the hot stove cooking supper] and says, Mamma! I want pancakes! So, I make him French toast. 2 slices. He ate both & asked for more. And, it wasn't pancakes. Hehe.

The Issue...or Not

It was all over the news...social media...radio ads. It was everywhere. Fighting on both sides of the fence. Vote FOR Amendment One. Vote AGAINST Amendment One. If you don't vote FOR it, you're not as Christian as me. If you do vote FOR it, you're a hate-mongering Jesus-lover.

I was so sick of hearing about it, that by the time it came time to vote on the "issue" I was glad overjoyed that I was stuck in Chapel Hill most of the day & then completely exhausted to the point of not feeling up to the trip to the poll. So, YEP, you got it.. I'm not as Christian as you are, AND I'm a hate-mongering Jesus-lover because I did neither. ;)

I struggled, truly, over this Amendment. I'd heard the liberal agenda on it...no domestic violence protection, children losing their health benefits, blah blah blah. I'd heard the conservative agenda on it...JESUS said so! Homos are sinners and we hate them! And then I researched it for myself.

But, the truth is, neither of those are exactly right.

Children of unmarried parents both CAN and CANNOT be covered on health insurance benefit policies, based on the carrier & plan host's definition of dependents.

Domestic Violence protection is not just for married couples, already. And, it's not just for heterosexual couples, already. And, it's not just for COUPLES, period. Domestic violence protection already extends to siblings, parents, children, and a host of other "people."

The bible does say that homosexuality is not right, never in those specific words, but in several places throughout, it lends instruction that marriage is to be between a man and a woman. HOWEVER, it doesn't say that we, as Christians are supposed to HATE those who choose to live in ANY lifestyle other than the one that we choose to live.

And, our law already said that marriage was between one man & one woman. Voting FOR the amendment didn't exactly change that. Voting AGAINST the amendment wouldn't have changed that either. So...why were we fighting over it?

Anyway, I heard this song a few days ago, and there's one line especially in the song that says to me, WHAT IN THE H... WERE WE THINKING?! It says, "Nobody knows what we're for, only what we are against when we judge the wounded; what if we put down our signs, crossed over the lines, and loved like You did..."

I think, as Christians, we have a responsibility bigger than voting FOR the Amendment, we have a responsibility to love ALL people. Regardless of how we feel about their life choices. That doesn't mean that you have to approve of, condone, or even support any person in your life who makes choices that you don't agree with, whether that choice is homosexuality; alcohol or drug abuse; tattoos; clubs; gangs. Being involved of any, or all, of those things doesn't mean the person doesn't love the Lord, it just means they're lost.

There's another line in that song that says, "The world is on their way to You, but they're tripping over me." I think this is probably the most true statement EVER. There are so many people who NEED to find their way to the Lord. And so many who will start down that path, only to stop when they run into a "Christian" who is pointing fingers at them and telling them what a bad person they are or that God hates what them for what they're doing. God doesn't hate ANYONE. He hates our actions, probably daily, but he LOVES us all. And, until we, as Christians, start showing EVERYONE that love, we will never be able to repair the HELL that we're living in now.

And, with that, I'm going to step off of my soapbox and just say this little prayer...

Jesus, friend of SINNERS (just like ME), open my eyes to the world at the end of my pointing fingers. I have always been and will always be the lost cause, but You have never given up on me, You never give up on any of us, You are always right there, arms open, waiting for us to run back to You. Thank You. I love you, Jesus. And I am so thankful that I find my way back to You when I've slipped in the other direction. Amen 

I can't go in there, Mamma.

WOW. It's been over 4 months since I posted a blog. It's overdue.

This past Saturday was our 5th wedding anniversary. We spent the day moving into our new home. 980 sq. ft. to 2000-ish sq. ft. A nice upgrade. The boy is a very routine child. (I'm pretty sure I've blogged about that before.) When his routine is disrupted, all sorts of things go haywire. Well, Saturday night was the first night we spent in the new house. During the day, Levi is super-psyched about the fact that he now has a playroom that is larger than the living room of our previous house.When it's bedtime, he goes to sleep pretty easily but from there, it goes downhill. (NOTE: This is not necessarily a "new" thing, as he typically wakes 2-3 times per night, but this is way worse than it's ever been.) He's had a history of night terrors (not nightmares which are dreams, but waking in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder and the ONLY thing that soothes him is to let him settle himself down and go back to sleep). It's been more than a year since he last had a night terror, but they've returned since we moved.

Late yesterday afternoon, he walks down the hallway then tells me, "I can't go in that bathroom, Mamma." Me: "Why not?" Levi: "There's a man in there." Me: "No, honey, it's really ok. Come on, Mamma will go with you."

I go in, turn on the light, he potties, and we're done.

Later, I'm telling husband about this and he asks Levi some questions.

Husband: "Hey buddy, tell me about the man you saw."
Levi: "He was in the bathroom."
Husband: "Did you know him?"
Levi: "Ummm...I don't know."
Husband: "What did he look like?"
Levi: "He looks like my PaPaw."

Jaws drop. Tears form. I look at husband. He smiles and looks at me.

PaPaw is my father-in-law, who passed away in November.

Levi was frightened by seeing PaPaw. But we explained to Levi that PaPaw is here because he loves us very much and he wants to take care of us and make sure that we are ok.

I start talking (in my mind) to Jerry (PaPaw), asking, "Jerry, if it's you that's here, please, help Levi to adjust. Take away these night terrors and help him rest." Over and over, I say this in my mind. Tears still rolling.

8:45 pm: Levi gets his bath in the same bathroom where he earlier "saw" PaPaw. No problems.
9:10 pm: Levi gets in bed, does his breathing treatment & dozes off to sleep.
6:30 am: Levi wakes up for the first time since going to sleep around 9:15-9:20 the night before.

Thank you PaPaw. We love you and we're so glad you're still here with us even just in spirit! I just wish my soul was still as innocent as little Levi's so that I could see you again, too. But one day, I will.

Life Lessons

Did you ever walk through a parking lot, store, or restaurant with your toddler/preschooler without holding their hand?

I have. In fact, he has the scars on his forehead to prove it.



Did your toddler/preschooler ever twist out of your grasp while walking through a parking lot, store, or restaurant?

Mine has.

Monday, December 5, 2011, heaven gained an angel, a beautiful, bright eyed little boy, named Cullen Parker. Did his mom just not hold his hand? Did he twist out of her grasp? I don't know. And, neither do the hundreds of people who are speculating about what terrible parents the Parkers are because they weren't holding onto their kid.

Before you judge someone else, look in the mirror. Did you ever do it when your kids were little? Do you do it even now, if you have small kids?

And, please, if you learn nothing else from the Parkers' loss, please learn this:

The most wonderful blessing you will ever have in your life is NOT your job, your bank account, your home or your car. It is your children (no matter how you get them).

Don't be afraid to hold your child's hand. Always. Forever. No matter how big or how old they get.

Tell your children that you love them. Always. Forever. No matter how big or how old they get. Do it. EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Tomorrow is not a guarantee for any of us. Will you regret tomorrow that you didn't hug your kid today?

And, finally, to the Parker family, should any of you read this, please accept the sincere condolences of my family. Cullen was a beautiful child. We have been praying daily for the peace and comfort of our Lord to be with you all. I cannot begin to imagine what your family must be feeling, but I do know that the Lord's angels are taking care of Cullen now.

~Anna

To Trick, To Treat, or To Not

Halloween is coming. Costumes should be bought. But, what if you don't know how you feel about trick-or-treating. And what if you don't know what's an appropriate costume for your child? Levi isn't allowed to watch "Superhero" cartoons, so, how much sense would it make to put him in a Captain America costume - when he doesn't even know who Captain America is? And, his bedtime is 8-8:30, and Halloween is on a school night, so late bedtime isn't really an option. The last two years, our "trick-or-treating" consisted of visiting a couple of family members to say hi (and of course, get a small treat).

His first Halloween, he was a horse:

(A very cute one!) Cost of costume? Unknown - Great Granny Wilma bought it for him.

Last year, he was the cutest little cowboy sheriff there ever was:

See, I told ya! cutest.ever. Cost of costume? $WeDon'tWannaTalkAboutIt

This year...I just really, really do not know. I've thought about Superman. Only, because Levi loves it when we say:

"Dundunnanna! SuperLevi!"

But, even still, he wouldn't get it, because he doesn't watch Superman.

Then, I thought about Captain America, because his Daddy loved Captain America as a boy. But, really, Levi doesn't have a clue who Captain America is.

Then, I thought about Optimus Prime, because Levi did watch Transformers with us while he was falling asleep over the weekend. But, again, he doesn't "get" it. He wouldn't know, "I'm dressed up like Optimus Prime, the leader of the good Transformers."

Any of those options would cost in the $25 range. Not completely unreasonable, but he'll only wear it once. And then I'll put it away in the "tote" because I'm too dumb sentimental to get rid of it.

Ahhhhhhh! Nothing should be this difficult! And that's a big part of why I'm struggling so with it this year, I think. This really, really, should not be this difficult. And if it is this difficult, then we shouldn't be doing it at all. But, then, what if we decide to do a Trunk-Or-Treat at church or something, he'll need a costume. And if I wait until we decide if we're going to do that, there won't be any good costumes left. And, how do I know if it is a good costume? Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Surgery, Recovery, Drama & Change - An Update

September 7
We took Levi to NC Children's Hospital at UNC for his surgery. This included: ear tube replacement, repeat adenoidectomy, tonsilectomy, and sinus surgery. The surgery went well, despite taking 1.5 hours longer than anticipated. There was a lot of bleeding from his nose after the surgery, and that first night was rough. He spent it in a short-stay observation unit. The amount of anesthesia he had been under meant most of his normal bodily functions were not functioning. And, as anyone who has ever had any type of surgery knows, you must drink and potty before you're released. Levi refused to drink, and was physically unable to potty - to the point that a good portion of his pain was coming from his bladder. After repeated attempts to get him to potty on his own, he had to be catheterized. The next morning, we finally convinced him to eat some ice cream - which oddly enough, counts as "drinking" - and then, finally, we had a wet diaper. I don't think I've ever been so excited over a wet diaper before!

Before

After

Finally Awake

September 8-17
The worst 10 days of my life. Literally. Levi alternated between short, fitful naps and hysterical crying. His routine was severely disrupted. Husband was banished to sleep in Lauren's bedroom because Levi would only sleep if he could sleep with me. He ran a low-grade fever, refused his meds, and was generally intolerable of anything I wanted or needed him to do.

September 18
Levi returned to "normal" - as normal as you can get with a 2-year old who has been through what he'd been through the last 2 weeks. He was eating normally, and playing normally, and crying considerably less. We were able to visit grandparents and play outside.

September 19
Levi returned to school. He was excited to be there. He didn't even cry after being home with me for practically 2 weeks. And, then, came the drama. Mema (that's my Mamma) picked Levi up from school, where he was outside sitting on the bench with the afternoon "teacher." She got him home, took his shoes off and changed his diaper - and found FORTY-THREE (43) bug bites on his feet, ankles, legs, groin, belly, arms, and hands, and a rash spreading down his legs and up his chest/neck. She called me. I left work. I get home, and look at the bites - mosquitoes? fireants? some other unknown insect? - and my stepdad points out that his left ankle looks really swollen. Another bite, maybe? Just one that hit the joint? So, I get his allergy medicine. Which he proceeds to puke back on me. When we put him in the tub to clean him off, he refuses to put the left foot down. Then he won't let me touch it. I still think it may just be one of the bites just got him in the right place. But, then, I put him down in the den floor to lock the front door. The toes of his left foot hit the floor, he collapses, and screams out in pain. I flipped out. I called husband who reassured me that I was over-reacting. Then, I called our pediatrician's after-hours number. I spoke with a nurse, who listened carefully to my descriptions of the bites, the rash, the ankle, the screaming, everything. She paged the pediatrician on call for our practice who called back with instructions to take him the ER. So, as soon as husband got home, we headed to the ER. By that time, his bug bites had festered and were easily identified as fire ant bites. With so many of them, and the rash spreading, the ER doctor put Levi on prednisone and an antibiotic. And, they x-ray his ankle, just to be sure there isn't a fracture. The ER doctor comes back in, says he has buckle fracture to his left fibula - which is the small bone in the side of the lower leg), near the ankle joint. He gets a temporary cast, until we see the orthopedic, who gives him a lime green hard cast.

Temp Cast

After Getting Hard Cast

And, then, comes change. We battled with the decision, because we realize that both the bites and the broken bone are simple accidents that could have happened anywhere, but after advice from friends, family, and our doctors, we've moved Levi into care at another facility.

A Place and A Space - Nook GiveAway

You might already know that I'm a contemporary christian music junkie. Or, you might not. If not, heads up, I'm a contemporary christian music junkie. The radio in my car STAYS on 107.3 unless I hit the Raleigh area, and then I switch over to HisRadio. And, if I'm not in an area that I can pick up either, I'm tuned into the AWESOME HisRadio app on my Android device.

That being said, I'm kind of digging this song, "Alive," by Nate Fowler. Today, on facebook, Nate posted a blog about his wife's blog - a place and a space - and a give-away that she's doing. I have to admit that I haven't used the Nook - I have the Kindle app for my Droid, and I am soooo addicted. But, a real, true to life, actual eReader? That's my dream. So, I'm entering the contest to win the Nook she's giving away. And, so shoud you! (And then you should go enjoy that song by her husband!) ;)

Have a good one.

So *That's* What it Feels Like?

Let me be clear, I am NOT making light of strokes. Stroke is a very serious thing and leaves lasting effects on those who experience them, as well as on their loved ones.

And, I think I must now know what it feels like when you're about to have a stroke.

About 6 years ago, during a trip to the mountains, husband bought me a beautiful 3.5 ct. emerald-cut garnet right-hand ring set in 24K gold. The setting alone was over $300, which is probably not alot of money to you. But, to me, it's a truck payment. Or almost 3 summer-time light bills. And that doesn't include the cost of the stone.

This morning, I've been:

In every room in my house.
On my deck.
In my yard.
In my car - twice.
In Levi's daycare parking lot & building.
In my office parking lot and both floors of the building.

Around 9:40, I sat back down at my desk for the 300th time (that's probably a slight exaggeration). As I began working on the tasks on my desk, I glanced down. My ring setting was EMPTY. Immediately, panic set in. I emailed our IRA, asked her to send an all-building e-mail with a description of the stone.

Then, I started back-tracking. Nose down, watching the floor, trying to think of every turn I had made in this maze of an office building today. The very most recent place I had been was a colleague's office. As I turned the corner to walk into her office. THERE IT WAS. Laying on the floor. No way anyone would have spotted it, had they not been looking for it. The vacuum would probably have eaten it tonight when the janitorial crew came through. I very nearly collapsed in my colleague's office. SCARY, SCARY, SCARY. My heart is still racing. I could never have replaced that stone. Not financially, or sentimentally.

And, here's my ring. And stone. In a zippy. Until I can take them to a jeweler.

Husband, despite the fact that I probably never tell you, I love you. And I appreciate what you do for me and our family.

Levi's First Train Ride!

On Sunday, we took Levi to New Hope Valley Railway in Bonsal, NC. It's no secret that my boy is a huge train fanatic. Just take a look around our living room. Or the floor board of my car. Or his bedroom. Or the apps on my Droid.

So, NHVRY is a great little all-volunteer led living museum. They offer train rides one Sunday per month in Spring, Summer & Fall (for a nominal fee of $10/adult, $7/child). I recommend going in Spring, or waiting til Fall. August, 100 degrees, and 9658.3% humidity are NOT ideal conditions for sitting in an "Open Air Coach," no matter how beautiful the scenery. Though, I have to admit that dealing with the heat was way beyond worth it just to see this look:

Or this one:

We had a nice little family day, with Jeremy, Lauren, Levi, PePaw and I. Totally going to do it again when the weather cools off.

I plan to edit some more of our photos from the train ride, using my new friend Picnik, and will post those later.

And God Bless All My Friends

Is there anything in this world more precious than a child's simple faith? We should all be so lucky as to hang on to that for as long as we live.

We have a bedtime routine at our house. It involves bathtime, medications, snuggling, reading, and...bedtime prayers. You know the one... "Now I lay me down to sleep..." When that's over with, we need to "God Bless" everyone. Which goes something like this (I start, then Levi, then me, then Levi, and on and on and on):

Okay, and, God Bless Daddy.
God Bless Mamma.
God Bless Levi.
God Bless Sissy.
God Bless Granddaddy.
God Bless Gate Ganny. (Great Granny)
God Bless MeMaw.
God Bless Cotton. (the Donkey, not the plant)
Yes, Levi, God Bless Cotton.
God Bless Papa.
God Bless GiGi.
God Bless PePaw.
God Bless MaMaw.
God Bless PaPaw.
God Bless Aunt Nette & Michael.
And God Bless Cotton.
Yes, Levi, God Bless Cotton.
God Bless Sara-Marget. (Sara-Margaret, that is)
God Bless Bailey.
God Bless Mannie & Dillon. (Mattie, that is)
God Bless Rylie.
And God Bless Cotton.
Yes, Levi, God Bless Cotton. Now, God Bless Miss Kellie and your other teachers.
God Bless Bittney. (Brittany, that is)
And who else, Levi?
And God Bless All My Friends.

Now, if only the rest of us in the world would take the time to do that every day!!

Living the Life of Rylie

So, last Monday, I came home from work and there was this teeny little kitty in our yard. Being the softie that I am when animals are concerned, I got it a little bowl of food and milk. I noticed something wrong with its little face, like it might have been caught in something and got ripped.
The next night, it was still here, but had decided to venture onto our back deck. So I did the humane thing and moved its food to the deck. And that's when it let me pet it. I told husband, "He let me pet him!"
Husband went out to try and pick it up - and the kitty let him! He brought him inside to get a better look at its injury. It was BAD. So, I took him to the vet.
Two days later, and against my better judgement, meet Rylie J. Hall.