My GAD is acting up

It's that gnawing, anxious sensation, just below the surface of emotion.  That feeling like something terrible is about to happen, or I've done something, somehow, that I need to make right---but I have no idea what.  It's a feeling of dread. It's not something I can tell people is going on, because it almost like it's imaginary, or not linked to reality.  When I try to tell my husband it's happening, I get the rolling of the eyes or on a good day I get his best stab at encouragement. He's used to hearing the phrase, "if I should die in the night, " or "do you think someone at the Del Taco could have poisoned us?"
  When I was a kid, I remember telling my dad about it and explaining how I just had this awful feeling about something bad, and like any good Catholic father, he told me it was my guilty conscience and I probably did something wrong.  In high school when I medicated myself with cannabis, I remember looking out my window thinking that the world would end at any minute.  And I felt very alone.
I'm not alone anymore, in fact I'm surrounded by people all of the time, people who want and need things from me, which makes the GAD act up.  I also have lots of commitments, ones I made when I felt fine, but now they make me want to crawl in bed.  And that is one thing that eases it for a while.  A good nap and a do-over.  I think my GAD is hormonally driven, so I guess as long as I'm still a girl I'll be battling this on some level.  One of my biggest fears is that my daughters will/have inherited this, and sometimes I see shadows.
So here's my "mantra":  "Do not be anxious about anything.   But in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, .  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  Phil 4:6.

Third Time's a Charm

I learned a great lesson from my baby this morning.  He's hit that great phase where rifling through drawers brings hours of entertainment.  I figure it's worth it to allow him to explore the bathroom drawer (with all safe contents, people) while I take a long-deserved and necessary shower.  After a few rounds of "coucou" through the glass, he set about the business of opening the drawer and playing with the 10 containers of dental floss (ask Hubs about this one) and multi-pack of tooth brushes.  He successfully opened the drawer, then moments later shut it on his precious, chubby baby finger.  Not a lot of crying, but a look of distress, before he managed to pull his finger out.  Immediately, he set about trying to shut his finger in the door again.  Seriously? I tried talking him through it, then  sort of chuckled to myself, wondering how many times he would do this before he figured out where he shouldn't be putting his fingers while playing with the door.  The third time it was a little harder for him to dislodge his finger, and then after that I noticed he didn't do it again.  Hmmm, so maybe there is something to the saying "The third time is a charm".  Are we wired by the Great Creator  to need a little finger slamming to get the picture?  What have I been slamming my fingers in lately?  What have you been slamming your fingers in lately?

In Loving Memory

Too many times I have words I desire to speak and write and I wait too long, the moment passes, and life moves on.  Never again.  Life is too short to not say the good things you know you ought to say, even if you're not sure people are listening.
Twenty years ago my dear Aunt Carole took me out for pizza and a conversation I'll never forget--and I'm eternally grateful.  I can't say that she led me to Christ right then and there, but she definitely put some bread crumbs down for me to make my way out of the thick, dark, woods of my life. A few months later, after I had asked Christ into my life, God answered a prayer through her by bringing a most precious gift to me, my first Bible.  I had not asked her, but I had asked God, and Carole had so lovingly picked out the most beautiful pink leather Bible with my name engraved on the front.  She told me how to pray each time I sat down to read it, and soon I was spending entire days in my pajamas devouring everything I could from that book.
Although Carole had always been my aunt, and going to her house as a kid in the summer was always an extra special treat, it was our relationship as Christian sisters that developed in my adulthood that I will cherish always. When I stayed with her in Denver, we could be saying goodnight to one another and end up talking about Jesus until midnight. And when she wasn't talking about Jesus, she was making me laugh until I thought I'd pee my pants. Oh how I'm going to miss hearing that laugh and seeing her smile at me like I was one of her own.
My sweet aunt went to Heaven two weeks ago.  We buried her on a snowy morning, each of us placing a red carnation on her casket. As I laid that flower down, I thanked God for letting me have Aunt Carole in my life.  I want to gather up everything both amazing and plain about her, like a bouquet of flowers, and keep it in a snapshot I can look at.  She was both bossy and humble; she was a great force with an amazing gentleness.  With a multitude of friends, she made each one of them feel very special and loved. As my Uncle Ben said, she had a lot of favorites. Carole was very human and real, but she was also a life completely transformed by Christ.  

Seven Habits of Highly Ineffective People

I think I've found how I'm going to earn my millions...

Habit 1: Don't do anything at all until you've had at least one cup of coffee.  Sit and stare at the table if you have to.

Habit 2: Be sure to start off your day by checking your e-mail and updating your Facebook status.

Habit 3:  Whenever on Facebook, take the time to peruse the family pictures of at least one person you never talk to, maybe don't even know.  If you're the gaming type, take some quizzes and work on your farm.

Habit 4:  Make a list of projects you need to do around the house.  Start some of them, and then go run some errands.

Habit 5:  Take time throughout the day to look at your "to do" list, make note of what still needs to be done, then make yourself a snack.  While you're eating, check your e-mail and everyone's Facebook status.

Habit 6:  Keep your laundry moving.  Wash it, fold it, and then place it on every available flat space in the house.  While placing your laundry, look at any half-done projects and make plans to finish them later.

Habit 7:  When you feel utterly overwhelmed with everything you need to do and the people needing you to do it, make every attempt possible to take a nap and drink another cup of coffee.

Revolution

My only New Year's revolution (misspelling intended) this year was to focus more on my writing, blog more, make money writing somehow, etc.  So I guess it  all works itself out that in the New Year of 2010 I have something more to write about than my life as mom to some extremely interesting children.  This year I get to write about thyroid cancer treatment and how it impacts me and my extremely interesting children.
I've had a lot to say this week, but lacked the mental clarity (thank you lortab elixir).

Mama Mia

There are a lot of things you can say about me: I procrastinate to a point of pain, I'm chronically disorganized, I waste hours of time on the, ahem, computer, I'm hopelessly addicted to my best friend Coffee, I can nap like nobody else...except maybe Leah(; I eat cookie dough like it's a common snack food. I can go on and on. The one thing you cannot say about me is that I don't enjoy being a mother, which is exactly what I heard some unknown foolish woman mutter under her breath when she looked at me yesterday. I was so shocked that I stood up and held my baby close to me and looked her straight in the eye as I gathered my things. But here is what she didn't know...I had been sitting there in the surgeon's office for a solid hour cajoling my baby while being forced to listen to Fox news. After 30 minutes of Glen Beck, I was just trying to get to my happy place until it was over, and that is when she looked at me and made a searing judgement of my character. The takeaway? I probably make harsh judgements of people, if only in my tiny head, based on what I've viewed for only a minute. In fact, I probably did it to the other mom there with her kids just 20 minutes before, I just have my filter intact and mean lady didn't. "The LORD does not look at the same things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." (1 Sam 16:7) Thank you , God, for looking at my heart and knowing that even though I'm not a perfect mom, I love being one.

Sea of Kayos

The day started out innocently enough. Isabelle created this poignant depiction of our home life and gave it to me while I slurped my coffee at the computer...She is flying overhead (bouncing off the walls), Zoe is on her "keister" reading, Camille is to my right stealing chocolate out of the pantry, Jude is screaming his head off, and Simon is in the lower left hand corner putting a potato in the toilet. The picture reads, "It's like I'm in a Sea of Kayas (chaos)...thank God for the drainer." Not too far from reality, and we all enjoyed laughing at ourselves as we ate our multi-colored (food coloring) oatmeal. Within hours, however, it had all gone terribly wrong.
It's a funny story, really....picture here Cheri Oteri with wild hair and smeared lipstick. I'm finally getting my shower in this morning--late--Jude is in Zoe's arms, Isabelle and Camille are doing something crafty, and Simon, well. Apparently while I was showering, Simon climbed up on the counter and decided to deficate. The little girls come running in screaming that they can't go in the kitchen now that there is poop on the counter. I'm sort of in panic mode, because the hair is full of shampoo, and you know I have a lot of it. I problem solve and ask Zoe to go in the kitchen just to make sure Simon doesn't smear the poop everywhere in an effort to "clean up." Thankfully, when I make my wet slippery way out to the kitchen he is frozen in time by his turd. I ask him, "do we go poo poo on the counter, Simon?" What a stupid question.
"Yes," he replies, very accurately.
"No, Simon, we poop in the bathroom, and it's right there," I say pointing emphatically toward the door.
"I pooped that, right there," he states, in the cutest little voice ever.
So, the moral of this story is, it's too early to go off the Lexapro.
I have to share the craziness of my life, because the laughter gleaned from it redeems it for me. I'm not saying I had five children to create blog fodder or have good stories at parties, but whatever works. Stay tuned for when I decide to home school...