revisiting-- I need an out

Well I know it's been *quite* a while. Lots of changes. Some good, some bad. Not even mostly good, but the good still outweigh the bad. Came back here and realized I needed to refresh and in the process that I need to revisit the blog. It's been too long, and I can see no one reads this anymore so perhaps it may very well be a way for me to get things out of my head.

so... soon. Right now it's bedtime!

Does it ever go away?

Posing a question for cyberspace here. I thought for a long time that certainly, my desire for another child must only have preceded my monthly female companion. Now it seems that I cannot shake this longing, even in the weeks between her visits. Every mention of a baby, every picture my friends post on facebook, even my mother-in-law's Scripture quotations today as she prepares to go to the first ultrasound with her only daughter, have me in tears.

So my question lingers, in my mind and heart-- will this want ever leave me? Will I ever be satisfied with my family as it is? Why doesn't my husband share the desire I have, to have a child with him? Is it selfish of me? Is it a reflection of how I really feel toward his children? Do I not love them properly?

I don't know how to get over the feeling that my love toward Tom's children is different than that for my own children. He keeps telling me that they ARE my children now, but it's one of those things that I think is going to take years for me to really settle into. They do have a mother, and I am not her.

I feel selfish and angry with myself for seeing how Tom interacts with his own children and wishing he had that kind of relationship with my girls. It's growing, for sure, between them. And honestly, his relationship with my daughters seems to be moving along more quickly than mine with his children.

The more I want to address issues, the more I realize the issue is me. I try to affirm myself through God's word, knowing that I have great power through Him. It's hard to go it alone. And meanwhile, the desire remains. I'm still praying about this all the time, and at the very least I can say that my prayer has changed. While it used to be, "God, please give me another child," now it is, "God, please take this desire away from me," or "Please fill me with Your fullness."

venting and confession

ok, so I'm not perfect, as if I didn't know. But, why can I not be happy for others who have good news? I seem to constantly be surrounded by people having babies. I'm happy, really, somewhere deep inside. Somewhere, and I'll find it before I have to display my face to them when they are cradling their child in their arms. And I know I should be happy with my own children, especially having added two more in by my recent marriage. I know I should consider that we don't have the finances, or space, to have another child. I know that I appreciate time alone. I know that I get frustrated with having 4 in the house at once (but I'm getting much better at handling them all at once!).I know that my "condition" means that "I don't need to be having any more children." Well, at least I know others think that; I won't apologize for disagreeing. I know that I'm downright lucky to have made it successfully through two pregnancies, despite my health not being optimum for motherhood. I know all this. I understand the logic. So why can't I let it go? Is it purely biological? Is it only emotional? Is it just PMS? I have cried out to God, over and over, in the various stages that I go through with this feeling. Last night I wanted to continue crying all night long, begging God to rid me of this desire. I cut short that wanting, so my husband could sleep. He doesn't understand; I don't expect him to.

so... just wondering...

Does anyone even read this any more? I'd like to continue blogging but wondering if any of my old fans are still around. Or if my life in the past year has made you recoil enough to no longer be a fan.

SO much has changed, but I'm happy with the changes and I'm learning so much about myself. Honestly, so much would not have been revealed to me if I had continued where I was.

I'll divulge more of those as time goes on, honestly I love letting you guys know how my faults have been exposed to me. *smile*

Love you all!

17 years ago today....

I had turned 11 years old a month prior, and was falling asleep on a cot in the back room of my mom and aunt's rural feed store. The day before, I had had my blood drawn at my family Dr's office. As I was dozing off, the phone rang. It was my Dr, telling my mom that my BG the day before was 660, and to get me to a hospital within the hour.

I arrived at the hospital in the late afternoon, admitted to the ER. They drew more blood and inserted an IV. A normally hefty child, I had dwindled to 67 lb, was in severe DKA and severely dehydrated. If there had been a PICU in that hospital, I'm sure I would have been in it. After they got things all squared away, I was moved up to a room upstairs. I was starving, and remember asking, "what can I eat for dinner?" The nurse kind of chuckled and said, "here's your dinner, honey," as she shook my IV bag. I think they may have given me half a sandwich later on.

My parents (divorced almost 3 years then) had known for a few days that I had type 1 diabetes, but the doctor my dad & step-mom had taken me to did not put me on insulin. He said I wasn't 'bad enough' to be treated yet, even though at his office my fasting AM BG was 183. He gave the advice to not eat sugar, to drink diet drinks, and he would recheck me in one to three months. I shudder to think what would have happened if my mom had not followed her gut instinct.

When I got back to mom's, she read all the pamphlets the doctor had sent home with me. Mom called many other doctors in the city nearest us and told them my symptoms and what my BG had been, and every one of them said I'd be put on insulin immediately. She even called the ADA, which I didn't know until talking about it with her in recent months. So she decided to take me to our family doctor, who wasted no time drawing blood and reassured mom he would call her as soon as he knew anything. In the meantime, she didn't let me out of her sight.

Later we believed that if I had fallen asleep that next day at the feed store, I may have well slipped into a coma. At the hospital, they were surprised I was coherent.

I remember having a low blood sugar that night during the night, but not knowing what it was at the time. I was scared, and didn't know I could call the nurse for help. I don't think that I would have known to ask for help! Thank God it musn't have been too bad. I don't even remember anyone coming to check my BG during the night. It amazes me how archaic treatment was even that short of a time ago. How can they load up a kid on an insulin drip and not be checking BG every hour or two??

The next week was very trying... I won't go into all the gory details, but my parents got bad enough that I was kept in the hospital longer than necessary so CPS could sort it out. I don't remember a lot of that. I do remember family coming to visit me, learning how to care for myself, check my BG, and give injections. They let me check any family member who was willing to undergo a finger poke, that was fun!

After leaving the hospital, we went to education classes on nutrition and D care. Looking back, I know these were geared more toward type 2, but they were still a wealth of knowledge for us. My mother pretty much handed me the reins of my D care and as a result, I feel that I matured much faster than I would have if she had handled everything for me. She did help me hold up the back of my arm occasionally for shots, but even that stopped after a while (she was still shaken by needles, and I soon figured out how to prop the back of my arm on the kitchen chair).

After a few years of struggling, we decided I needed a new Endocrinologist, as the one I saw wasn't a Ped. We found an awesome doctor about 45 miles from us, worth every mile of the drive! He always pushed me to try new treatments. When I first saw him, my A1C had been over 10. It improved drastically within the first year with him. He became like family, along with all the office staff. When I got my driver's license, my mom let my drive there alone (I'm still amazed she let her 16yo drive on I-94 alone!).

He worked on me for years about starting on a pump. I just never knew if I would like it or what it would be like. He never pushed me, just kept asking. Finally, at 19 years old, about 6 months after dh and I married, I agreed to do it. By the time I got my pump and started, it was February 2000. It was so awesome to finally be able to wake up with a good BG in the morning! I have the dawn phenomenon, and for over 6 years I woke up with BG over 300, no matter what we tried. In mid-April, we found out we were expecting Grace. What perfect timing that was!

Within a couple of months after my dx, mom told me a song she knew made her think of what we'd gone through. It was "Angel Flying Too Close to The Ground" by Willie Nelson.

If you had not have fallen
Then I would not have found you
Angel flying too close to the ground
And I patched up your broken wing
And hung around a while
Tried to keep your spirits up
And your fever down
I knew someday that you would fly away
For love's the greatest healer to be found
So leave me if you need to
I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground
Fly on, fly on past the speed of sound
I'd rather see you up
Than see you down
Leave me if you need to
I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground


I just wanted to share my experience with all of you. Hope it encourages you.

Alright, one more today

Though this one doesn't have anything to do with cats... One of the few forwards I've felt was worth posting.

A store that sells husbands has just opened in New York City, where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates:

WELCOME TO THE HUSBAND STORE!!

You may visit the store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the attributes of the men increase as the shopper ascends the flights. There is, however, a catch... you may choose any man from a particular floor, or you may choose to go up a floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building!
Happy Shopping!!!!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband...

On the first floor the sign on the door reads: Floor 1: These men have jobs and love the Lord.

The second floor sign reads:

Floor 2: These men have jobs, love the Lord, and like kids.

The third floor sign reads:

Floor 3: These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids and are extremely good looking. 'Wow,' she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.

She goes to the fourth floor and sign reads:

Floor 4: These men have jobs, love the Lord, love Kids are drop-dead good looking and help with the housework. 'Oh, mercy me!' she exclaims, 'I can hardly stand it!'

Still, she goes to the fifth floor and sign reads:

Floor 5: These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop-dead gorgeous, help with the housework, and have a strong romantic streak.

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor and the sign reads:

Floor 6: You are visitor 4,363,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store. Watch your step as you exit the building, and have a nice day!

Been a while, eh?

Sorry for the absence; evidently my life has been less than invigorating. Now for some instructions regarding my favorite type of pet, the cat.

How to give a cat a Pill

1. Pick up cat and cradle it in left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of cat’s mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.

2. Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat and repeat process.

3. Retrieve cat from bedroom and throw soggy pill away.

4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.

5. Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call in spouse.

6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged between knees, hold front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold head with one hand while forcing wooden ruler in mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat’s throat.

7. Retrieve cat from curtain rail, get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered vases and figurines from hearth and set to one side.

8. Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with pencil, insert straw and blow down it.

9. Check label to make sure that pill is not harmful to humans, drink glass of water to take away the taste. Apply dressing to spouse’s forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water.

10. Retrieve cat from neighbour’s shed. Get another pill. Place cat in cupboard and close door onto neck to leave head showing. Force mouth open with a spoon. Flick pill down throat with an elastic band.

11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus jab. Throw T-shirt away and fetch new one.

12. Ring fire brigade to retrieve cat from tree across the road. Apologise to neighbour who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill.

13. Tie cat’s front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining table. Push pill into mouth followed by a large piece of steak. Hold head vertically and pour two pints of water down throat to wash pill down.

14. Get spouse to drive you to accident and emergency. Sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearm and removes pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on the way home. Order table.

15. Arrange for RSPCA to collect cat and ring pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.

How to give a dog a pill

1. Wrap it in bacon.

Found in Daily Mail (UK) in September 2003.



Cat Bathing as a Martial Art

by Bud Herron

Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk --- dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away.I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce: "This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez."
When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and head for the bathtub:

Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift positions.)

Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water.

Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.)

Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival. In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of your life.

Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three latherings, so don't expect too much.)

Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg. You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat.

In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

But at least now he smells a lot better.

answered prayers

Today was Grace's tonsil & anenoid surgery. She sailed right through it, despite having a low at around 3 am, for which I had to give her some apple juice. The Dr was ok with that, though he became a little upset when he realized someone had scheduled us later than first. It's his policy (and most surgeons' as well, I believe) that patients with diabetes will have the first slot of the day. Everything did go great though, and Grace is now home resting.

Also, we were concerned about selling our car, since it is older, has somewhat mid-to-high mileage, and several things didn't work on it (cruise control, for one). But we discovered the two magic points to selling a car: "Cold A/C," and "Good MPG." We had parked the car on Monday evening at my brother's house with signs in the windows. Tuesday we had two calls, and Wednesday another person called, who ended up being the buyer. I don't think we've ever gotten rid of a car that quickly! Definitely answered prayer there!

If you want to see a pic of me and my friend Angela Caswell performing together at the MI Ladies' Advance, click here.