...but I think that I am done. Done, but what a good time I had!
Not really sure what the future holds for me, but I am grateful for the friends I have made, the conversations we have had, and the things that I have learned on this adventure. But my life has shifted a bit, and blogging isn't fitting in as well as it used to, and I don't think I should try and make it fit. There may be a time in the future when I have an internet presence again, and if I do you will surely know, but for now...
toodles!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Lessons
I have been a Relief Society teacher for about a year and a half now. I do the Teaching For Our Times bit, which suits me just fine. I am assigned a conference talk or three to pull my material from and I teach on the fourth Sunday of the month. It's been pretty great... last month was Elder Faust's talk, and the way it was scheduled, I taught it shortly after his death; it was like a tribute. This month the talks were Elder Uchtdorf's and Elder Nelson's talks, both of which were about repentance, and Saturday before was Yom Kippur.... how cool is THAT!?
On the off weeks I find myself substitute teaching in the Primary, as often as not. So much so, that we actually have a place to put the various lesson manuals to be returned, so if the teacher of whatever class comes for it and I'm not here, Dadguy knows where it is. Or vice versa, he subs a lot too.
I love this calling. I love the Relief Society, heck... the women teach most of the lessons for me; all I have to do is come up with the right questions to ask 'em, and off they go. The only problem is this "fourth Sunday" bit. The fourth Sunday has been, with one solitary exception, the day that I'd like to take off from church, and stay home to quietly bleed to death. That one exception was last month, and I exulted in the freedom of over-emotional teaching! I hollered "hosanna!" and figured that my body was resetting itself, and that there will BE no more standing in front of a roomful of women when I'd rather be hanging out at home with a hot pad. YAY!
Naw, I was back to my usual situation this month... and it just isn't fair.
I think it's part of the way the Lord keeps me humble. Or perhaps, my body is a traitor. On the lighter side... it sure does explain me getting all het up and pissy last week. On the darker side... it's official; even if I get pregnant this cycle, I will be 39 when I give birth. I really had wanted to be done before that.
... and maybe that is the real lesson here: patience.
On the off weeks I find myself substitute teaching in the Primary, as often as not. So much so, that we actually have a place to put the various lesson manuals to be returned, so if the teacher of whatever class comes for it and I'm not here, Dadguy knows where it is. Or vice versa, he subs a lot too.
I love this calling. I love the Relief Society, heck... the women teach most of the lessons for me; all I have to do is come up with the right questions to ask 'em, and off they go. The only problem is this "fourth Sunday" bit. The fourth Sunday has been, with one solitary exception, the day that I'd like to take off from church, and stay home to quietly bleed to death. That one exception was last month, and I exulted in the freedom of over-emotional teaching! I hollered "hosanna!" and figured that my body was resetting itself, and that there will BE no more standing in front of a roomful of women when I'd rather be hanging out at home with a hot pad. YAY!
Naw, I was back to my usual situation this month... and it just isn't fair.
I think it's part of the way the Lord keeps me humble. Or perhaps, my body is a traitor. On the lighter side... it sure does explain me getting all het up and pissy last week. On the darker side... it's official; even if I get pregnant this cycle, I will be 39 when I give birth. I really had wanted to be done before that.
... and maybe that is the real lesson here: patience.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Fiddle Dee Dee!
I said I wasn't gonna let this place become a "weight-loss" blog.
I said it, and I lied.
Because the act of figuring the points and chronicling every bite that goes in to my mouth is consuming (heh...consuming) , and I didn't have a super long attention span to begin with.
As of my weigh-in last night, I am down 5.8 pounds. While this is great and all, I don't quite know what to do with my excitement. I'm not sure how I want to go about celebrating my losses, because.... on the one hand, I'm working hard for it. On the other hand, I don't want the Chaos Girls to get some skewed picture in their minds about how "yukky" fat is and all the blahblahblah that comes with body image.
I intend to lose every ounce that I can before I get pregnant. How do I talk this up? What do I say in front of the girls that will convey to a one/three/five year old that mama is working hard and achieving goals (because I am proud of myself)... without planting seeds of pain for later in life? Without adding to the stigma and body-shame that our culture and media so gleefully heaps upon girls?
So far I have kept it on the down-low (not that hard... it's been two whole weeks, whoopee), but if it takes me a while longer to get pregs, and it could easily take months, I could be at this for a while. Months of Weight Watchers will mean going down a size or two... noticeably smaller. Smaller enough that a kid might eventually notice. There will also be after the future, theoretical pregnancy. There will also be my whole freaking life... The body, she will not let her layers of comfort and insulation go quietly into the night, this will be a fight that will become noticeable in many ways.
Why am I stressing about something that has not even happened? Well, it's what I do. It's what I do best! I am the mama.
So. My best idea is to find an athletic goal to work toward. Something to point all my excitement and sense of pride at. Something that I can do, or do quantifiably better when I am shrunken down. A thing that I can say that I am working toward, rather than a certain size of pants... it's what I would want for my girls. It should be what I want for me.
I admire but do not envy marathoners, triathletes, and endurance sport folks. Is cool what they do, but I don't really think it's the bag for me. What I admire and envy are the women who can fight. No small surprize that two of my biggest bloggirl crushes are MamaD and Elizasmom, I don't just love them and their brains... I love what they can do. They are queens of Tae Kwon Do and Karate respectively and I thinks that's the bomb-diggity, yo!
"Oooooo-oo, I wanna be like You-oooo!
I wanna WALK like you TALK like you, tooo-ooo!
You see it's TRUE-oooo
A mom like ME-eeee
Can learn BE
Baaa-aaad A@@ TOOO-oooo!"
(sung to the tune Human Too, from the Jungle Book)
But then, everything gets oogied up with this last kid that I am trying for; the whole unknowable factor of the timing combined with the known factor of just how truly vile pregnancy makes me feel. Wuff! Plus the obvious: no weightloss during pregnancy, ya twidjit! But there is no question of postponing this pregnancy. Not for me, and I'll tell you why.
Only not today. Tomorrow.
I gotta get on the laundry. Poor Dadguy lodged a formal complaint last night, as he scraped the two baskets worth of clean, unfolded clothing off the bed for the ten ka-spillionth time, just so's he could sleep. Gotta take some pity on the man, although, truth be known... it's been weeks since he has run out of clean underpants. Huzzah to me!
I said it, and I lied.
Because the act of figuring the points and chronicling every bite that goes in to my mouth is consuming (heh...consuming) , and I didn't have a super long attention span to begin with.
As of my weigh-in last night, I am down 5.8 pounds. While this is great and all, I don't quite know what to do with my excitement. I'm not sure how I want to go about celebrating my losses, because.... on the one hand, I'm working hard for it. On the other hand, I don't want the Chaos Girls to get some skewed picture in their minds about how "yukky" fat is and all the blahblahblah that comes with body image.
I intend to lose every ounce that I can before I get pregnant. How do I talk this up? What do I say in front of the girls that will convey to a one/three/five year old that mama is working hard and achieving goals (because I am proud of myself)... without planting seeds of pain for later in life? Without adding to the stigma and body-shame that our culture and media so gleefully heaps upon girls?
So far I have kept it on the down-low (not that hard... it's been two whole weeks, whoopee), but if it takes me a while longer to get pregs, and it could easily take months, I could be at this for a while. Months of Weight Watchers will mean going down a size or two... noticeably smaller. Smaller enough that a kid might eventually notice. There will also be after the future, theoretical pregnancy. There will also be my whole freaking life... The body, she will not let her layers of comfort and insulation go quietly into the night, this will be a fight that will become noticeable in many ways.
Why am I stressing about something that has not even happened? Well, it's what I do. It's what I do best! I am the mama.
So. My best idea is to find an athletic goal to work toward. Something to point all my excitement and sense of pride at. Something that I can do, or do quantifiably better when I am shrunken down. A thing that I can say that I am working toward, rather than a certain size of pants... it's what I would want for my girls. It should be what I want for me.
I admire but do not envy marathoners, triathletes, and endurance sport folks. Is cool what they do, but I don't really think it's the bag for me. What I admire and envy are the women who can fight. No small surprize that two of my biggest bloggirl crushes are MamaD and Elizasmom, I don't just love them and their brains... I love what they can do. They are queens of Tae Kwon Do and Karate respectively and I thinks that's the bomb-diggity, yo!
"Oooooo-oo, I wanna be like You-oooo!
I wanna WALK like you TALK like you, tooo-ooo!
You see it's TRUE-oooo
A mom like ME-eeee
Can learn BE
Baaa-aaad A@@ TOOO-oooo!"
(sung to the tune Human Too, from the Jungle Book)
But then, everything gets oogied up with this last kid that I am trying for; the whole unknowable factor of the timing combined with the known factor of just how truly vile pregnancy makes me feel. Wuff! Plus the obvious: no weightloss during pregnancy, ya twidjit! But there is no question of postponing this pregnancy. Not for me, and I'll tell you why.
Only not today. Tomorrow.
I gotta get on the laundry. Poor Dadguy lodged a formal complaint last night, as he scraped the two baskets worth of clean, unfolded clothing off the bed for the ten ka-spillionth time, just so's he could sleep. Gotta take some pity on the man, although, truth be known... it's been weeks since he has run out of clean underpants. Huzzah to me!
Monday, September 17, 2007
Retreat and Surrender
This weekend past was a Women's Retreat for our congregation. This meant that we would be gone on an overnight trip up past Heber, at a fairly posh campground owned by the LDS church. Did this same thing last year. Enjoyed it thoroughly. Last year.
Last year, however, I opted out of the ropes challenge course that was scheduled for the Saturday morning part of the retreat, and went on a leisurely hike with a friend. We were hardly the only ones who chose not to go, and I didn't feel badly about my decision. There was not a ton of pressure to do the challenge course; it was just one of several activities scheduled for the day. Cut to this year, and we got booted from the campground early, as they were opening the grounds for an open house... something they had failed to mention to the women in our congregation who had booked the camp. The ropes course turned out to be the only activity, and everyone was expected to go, and at least hang out.
Until ya got there, and then the course instructors took over, and the option to not participate became practically a doctrinal issue.
I jest, but only a little.
I was so not up for what followed, but then, I had not been up for what preceded either. That morning before breakfast, there was a bit of a stir, because one of the women in the cabin I was staying in(there were about fifteen per cabin), had gotten up and moved out of the cabin around four in the morning, declaring to her friend that a few hours of sleep would be better than none and she just couldn't take all the snoring anymore. I didn't think too much of it, even though I know that I do snore, as I was clear across the rather large room from her, and every time I had awoken that night, I could hear one or two other women snoring softly. Sister Gottagetsomesleep made sure to announce, to the entire seated breakfasting group, that I was the one who's snoring had caused her to move to another cabin. When other cabin mates objected and qualified, she took particular care to point out that it absolutely was me. I was mortified, but I tossed my head and let it slide on by.
I know her. She is a deeply unhappy and bitter woman, but I don't think she meant to hurt me in any particular way. Perhaps I am too good at my joking and capable woman facade, and she felt like I could take a few hard digs. Maybe some days I could just shrug this kind of thing off, but that day, it hurt.
Cut to the ropes course:
The first thing to happen when we get there is a brief speech in front of what was known as the High Course. This included explaining about the belaying ropes, carribiners, harness rigs and other devices that would keep us safe; so long as we were a particular weight or under. And I am not. But it was OK, they explained... us fatties would still be able to do most of the other activities. That's not what they said, but please understand, that's how my sore heart translated the rest of what was said. Not that I was much interested in the humiliation of dragging myself up the small rocks pegged into the side of one huge tree trunk, sliding across a high wire, or rappelling down another equally intimidating tree. But to know that I would not be allowed even if I desired. Hurt.
The fun did not stop there, but my facade of spunky fat girl did not slip once, not even when I forced myself to do the "trust fall" thing, so as to not be the only one who didn't, and to set a good example for the nervous sixteen year old girl who was with us.
"See? Even the fat old lady can do it... they didn't drop her, they won't drop you!"
I made it till I got home and got in the shower; the heat and the water dissolving my will, and my resolve, and my defences. Poor Dadguy could only sit and hold the mewling wife that he had so bravely sent off the night before, in hopes of getting a refreshed and uplifted spouse back. Even still, to my horror, I cannot see the monitor to read my words as I type this. Each new activity that day was shame upon humiliation. The activity of writing it all down is almost as brutal. Why I am posting this is entirely beyond my ken, except I don't feel like keeping this garbage to myself anymore. Y'all, I am doing Weight Watchers, but this is the story that is shared when the teller is millions of sizes smaller than when these kinds of things happened. I am maybe five pounds down from two week ago, and staring at the very real possibility that I don't have what it takes to get it off or keep it off.
But I am also angry at the thoughtlessness that went in to this activity. There is one overnight retreat a year, and we are gone from our homes and responsibilities for less than 24 hours... this is the best thing they could come up with? I was definitely NOT the only woman who opted out of doing the High Course (or were opted out because of weight... I didn't ask), and not the only one who struggled with some of the other physical challenges posed by the "Group Activities."
I will not be doing this again next year even if I am the fitness freaking queen of the world. I think I will be kinder to myself, and just hang out with people who will be kinder to me, and do things that are actually uplifting and that I enjoy. Although I will be sorry to miss the fellowship and the getting to know you portions of the retreat, I just don't have the heart for this anymore.
Last year, however, I opted out of the ropes challenge course that was scheduled for the Saturday morning part of the retreat, and went on a leisurely hike with a friend. We were hardly the only ones who chose not to go, and I didn't feel badly about my decision. There was not a ton of pressure to do the challenge course; it was just one of several activities scheduled for the day. Cut to this year, and we got booted from the campground early, as they were opening the grounds for an open house... something they had failed to mention to the women in our congregation who had booked the camp. The ropes course turned out to be the only activity, and everyone was expected to go, and at least hang out.
Until ya got there, and then the course instructors took over, and the option to not participate became practically a doctrinal issue.
I jest, but only a little.
I was so not up for what followed, but then, I had not been up for what preceded either. That morning before breakfast, there was a bit of a stir, because one of the women in the cabin I was staying in(there were about fifteen per cabin), had gotten up and moved out of the cabin around four in the morning, declaring to her friend that a few hours of sleep would be better than none and she just couldn't take all the snoring anymore. I didn't think too much of it, even though I know that I do snore, as I was clear across the rather large room from her, and every time I had awoken that night, I could hear one or two other women snoring softly. Sister Gottagetsomesleep made sure to announce, to the entire seated breakfasting group, that I was the one who's snoring had caused her to move to another cabin. When other cabin mates objected and qualified, she took particular care to point out that it absolutely was me. I was mortified, but I tossed my head and let it slide on by.
I know her. She is a deeply unhappy and bitter woman, but I don't think she meant to hurt me in any particular way. Perhaps I am too good at my joking and capable woman facade, and she felt like I could take a few hard digs. Maybe some days I could just shrug this kind of thing off, but that day, it hurt.
Cut to the ropes course:
The first thing to happen when we get there is a brief speech in front of what was known as the High Course. This included explaining about the belaying ropes, carribiners, harness rigs and other devices that would keep us safe; so long as we were a particular weight or under. And I am not. But it was OK, they explained... us fatties would still be able to do most of the other activities. That's not what they said, but please understand, that's how my sore heart translated the rest of what was said. Not that I was much interested in the humiliation of dragging myself up the small rocks pegged into the side of one huge tree trunk, sliding across a high wire, or rappelling down another equally intimidating tree. But to know that I would not be allowed even if I desired. Hurt.
The fun did not stop there, but my facade of spunky fat girl did not slip once, not even when I forced myself to do the "trust fall" thing, so as to not be the only one who didn't, and to set a good example for the nervous sixteen year old girl who was with us.
"See? Even the fat old lady can do it... they didn't drop her, they won't drop you!"
I made it till I got home and got in the shower; the heat and the water dissolving my will, and my resolve, and my defences. Poor Dadguy could only sit and hold the mewling wife that he had so bravely sent off the night before, in hopes of getting a refreshed and uplifted spouse back. Even still, to my horror, I cannot see the monitor to read my words as I type this. Each new activity that day was shame upon humiliation. The activity of writing it all down is almost as brutal. Why I am posting this is entirely beyond my ken, except I don't feel like keeping this garbage to myself anymore. Y'all, I am doing Weight Watchers, but this is the story that is shared when the teller is millions of sizes smaller than when these kinds of things happened. I am maybe five pounds down from two week ago, and staring at the very real possibility that I don't have what it takes to get it off or keep it off.
But I am also angry at the thoughtlessness that went in to this activity. There is one overnight retreat a year, and we are gone from our homes and responsibilities for less than 24 hours... this is the best thing they could come up with? I was definitely NOT the only woman who opted out of doing the High Course (or were opted out because of weight... I didn't ask), and not the only one who struggled with some of the other physical challenges posed by the "Group Activities."
I will not be doing this again next year even if I am the fitness freaking queen of the world. I think I will be kinder to myself, and just hang out with people who will be kinder to me, and do things that are actually uplifting and that I enjoy. Although I will be sorry to miss the fellowship and the getting to know you portions of the retreat, I just don't have the heart for this anymore.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Sunday Pic: Ick!
Note to girls: Please store your pieces of weather beaten brown sidewalk chalk elsewhere.
Thanks
-the mama
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Lifting of the Siege
Still trying to work out the tempo of my life right now. There is a theme of restraint and control overlaying most of it. Trying to fit it all in, in the proper way.
I started Weight Watchers last week, and this first weeks weight-in went better than I had hoped. I was careful, don't get me wrong, but with the hospital visits shoved in there, which included a visit to the lovely cafeteria and the bakery products; I was afraid I was too distracted to stick with it. Not gonna drag y'all through a weight loss bloggery... but when I hit twenty pounds down... I'm throwin' myself a party and ya'll are invited. I figure an Internet party is the best way to go, no one will be tempted to bring dip or chocolate cake. Is safer.
Before anyone gets too excited, twenty pounds is just the leftovers plus, from pregnancy number Pearl. I will then still have fifteen each from Birdy and LaLa to answer for once those are gone. Plus the initial ten or so that I picked up in my first year of marriage, and is never gonna be documented how far I am from my goals even then.
heh.... yeah.
And then there is the revamping of the budget. Or perhaps it would be better described as the introduction of a budget for our finances. That should be a right fun party right there! Whee!
You know, I feel like we are digging out from under. Emotionally, physically, financially recovering from the long siege of stress from the uncertainty and fear surrounding Pearl's sickness, capped off with a month long pitched battle at PCMC. Stress that caused Dadguy and I to start picking at each other for the first time in our marriage, the house to crumble into epic levels of slime-ary, and an overabundance of tv watching for the kids.
I just hope that we can stay here for a while. I like it here, feels comfortable. And even though I don't adore structure and discipline so very, it is nice to have that illusion of control.
I started Weight Watchers last week, and this first weeks weight-in went better than I had hoped. I was careful, don't get me wrong, but with the hospital visits shoved in there, which included a visit to the lovely cafeteria and the bakery products; I was afraid I was too distracted to stick with it. Not gonna drag y'all through a weight loss bloggery... but when I hit twenty pounds down... I'm throwin' myself a party and ya'll are invited. I figure an Internet party is the best way to go, no one will be tempted to bring dip or chocolate cake. Is safer.
Before anyone gets too excited, twenty pounds is just the leftovers plus, from pregnancy number Pearl. I will then still have fifteen each from Birdy and LaLa to answer for once those are gone. Plus the initial ten or so that I picked up in my first year of marriage, and is never gonna be documented how far I am from my goals even then.
heh.... yeah.
And then there is the revamping of the budget. Or perhaps it would be better described as the introduction of a budget for our finances. That should be a right fun party right there! Whee!
You know, I feel like we are digging out from under. Emotionally, physically, financially recovering from the long siege of stress from the uncertainty and fear surrounding Pearl's sickness, capped off with a month long pitched battle at PCMC. Stress that caused Dadguy and I to start picking at each other for the first time in our marriage, the house to crumble into epic levels of slime-ary, and an overabundance of tv watching for the kids.
I just hope that we can stay here for a while. I like it here, feels comfortable. And even though I don't adore structure and discipline so very, it is nice to have that illusion of control.
Monday, September 10, 2007
The End
Y'all, we have reached the end of Pearl's saga. Clean bill of health, and if she has any scrub-o-phobia left, any lab-coat-freakout? You cannot tell by watching her. She was a happy little trooper during todays tests, and we are done.
Done.
Done.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Time and Stuff
I have the same number of hours in a day that everyone else does. That's what they tell me, and yet I cannot seem to accomplish a crappin' thing except the basics, and Dadguy may question whether the basics are being met. You would question too, if I let you see the state of my house. But I won't, so keep your nosey little nosey-ness out.
And I know better than this. I served a mission for my church (LDS) back before I got married, and the Mission President was a big time-management guy. He was, in fact a time management pioneer, and a honcho lecturer guy for the Daytimer folks. He trained every one of his missionaries in the proper use of Daytimers, and I was a time management freak.
You would never know this to see me in action today.
Then again, perhaps the list of stuff that I want to accomplish is probably too long. Some stuff that I want to do.
hey, it's MY dream.
And I know better than this. I served a mission for my church (LDS) back before I got married, and the Mission President was a big time-management guy. He was, in fact a time management pioneer, and a honcho lecturer guy for the Daytimer folks. He trained every one of his missionaries in the proper use of Daytimers, and I was a time management freak.
You would never know this to see me in action today.
Then again, perhaps the list of stuff that I want to accomplish is probably too long. Some stuff that I want to do.
- Write a novel
- write poetry again
- write lyrics for hymns
- write lyrics for songs
- paint
- learn to belt like Aretha
- learn Karate
- learn Kick Boxing
- learn Gracie Jiu-jitsu
- lose weight
- lose enough weight to run a credible mile or so
- learn french
- quilt
- travel to Europe and do a big old Art tour
hey, it's MY dream.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Angels to Comfort Her
First round of tests are complete, and there was none of the anticipated and promised sedation, anesthesia, or fear. A few tears were shed over the IV insertion, but she was happy to be distracted by The Tooth Book. We even had a couple of good laughs over making toothy faces at each other.
When we got to the CT room, the nurse let her roam and check stuff out while we put on a Barney video and discussed what would work best. It was decided that we would go with the minimum of restraints; little more than a lap belt, and a foam wedge on either side of her head. I lightly held her hands and she lay there, still and serene. They spent less than ten minutes getting their images, a few minutes to make sure they were viable, thirty seconds to slip the IV out of her hand and she was off the table. She walked out the door without a tear in her eye, as a stunned technician gave her some stickers and a toy dog as a prize for being so brave and still. He kept raving about how he had never seen anything like it.
I have. But I've seen a number of miracles.
When we got to the CT room, the nurse let her roam and check stuff out while we put on a Barney video and discussed what would work best. It was decided that we would go with the minimum of restraints; little more than a lap belt, and a foam wedge on either side of her head. I lightly held her hands and she lay there, still and serene. They spent less than ten minutes getting their images, a few minutes to make sure they were viable, thirty seconds to slip the IV out of her hand and she was off the table. She walked out the door without a tear in her eye, as a stunned technician gave her some stickers and a toy dog as a prize for being so brave and still. He kept raving about how he had never seen anything like it.
I have. But I've seen a number of miracles.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Blacker or Slogger?
Am just not feeling it lately. I think I mighta been thrown off my stride with the false start for school. Or maybe the feeling that everything is "on hold" till I get that final bill of health for the Pearl-girl. Or the fact that I am "trying " for that last baby, and I am late again this month- yet pretty DARN sure that I am not in a "family way." Grrrrrr!
Now I must waste perfectly good money on a pee-stick to tell me something I already know (not pregs), so I can go do something I really don't want to do (Pearl's CT scans). Again... am helpless to not do it. Must.
And I have to do it before tomorrow night (first Weight Watchers meeting).
The good news? My mama rocks!
Seriously, you all had good advise and lovely comments for me, but my mom sent me an e-mail that fixed everything, or rather, brought me peace. The most pertinent section....
"That she will have angels to hold her hand....maybe even my mama who underwent months and months of very bad tests (although she was an adult who could be explained to). I know she would be there anyway. and granny great and all the rest from both sides of the family whom we have not met in mortality. Their hearts are turned toward you. Plus the comforter will be there . for Pearl and you. Be sure to get a blessing from Dadguy for both of you. and in your case, the sooner the better. You might get guidance about whether or not to proceed or forget about it. Our hearts are turned toward you and your precious family.
Love, Mom"
A timely reminder.
Peace.
Anyway... it may be a Happy Labor Day and all that in the US of the A, but my slacking off has extended to my housekeeping, and I gots to get up and rock the house. Or clean. Or something!
Now I must waste perfectly good money on a pee-stick to tell me something I already know (not pregs), so I can go do something I really don't want to do (Pearl's CT scans). Again... am helpless to not do it. Must.
And I have to do it before tomorrow night (first Weight Watchers meeting).
The good news? My mama rocks!
Seriously, you all had good advise and lovely comments for me, but my mom sent me an e-mail that fixed everything, or rather, brought me peace. The most pertinent section....
"That she will have angels to hold her hand....maybe even my mama who underwent months and months of very bad tests (although she was an adult who could be explained to). I know she would be there anyway. and granny great and all the rest from both sides of the family whom we have not met in mortality. Their hearts are turned toward you. Plus the comforter will be there . for Pearl and you. Be sure to get a blessing from Dadguy for both of you. and in your case, the sooner the better. You might get guidance about whether or not to proceed or forget about it. Our hearts are turned toward you and your precious family.
Love, Mom"
A timely reminder.
Peace.
Anyway... it may be a Happy Labor Day and all that in the US of the A, but my slacking off has extended to my housekeeping, and I gots to get up and rock the house. Or clean. Or something!
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