For a Heart that is sick…

There is a little girl, not quite three, dying of stage four cancer. Her parents are friends of a fellow infantryman my husband is close with. 

Her heart may be ravaged by this terrible disease, but her smile shines bright when the police officers stop by and visit. Her time on this earth is short and her mom would like to make her a gift…a quilt of police badges, blue and bright, to keep her safe on lonely nights.

If you have a spare or know someone who may give a badge to place on this blanket of love, email me at bitslittleblog@gmail.com and I will give you my address. I will then forward it to the family. Thank you friends!

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What the Media Takes Away

Please read this post by my friend and fellow blogger Deb. Her perspective of the last few days of violence and the media circus surrounding it has given me perspective. Her words are touching and filled with truth..and I can’t find my own words just yet.

https://deborah-bryan.com/2016/07/07/policemen-let-names-be-names/

The Butt Blog

 

 

Posting in the summer sun has been a bit of a challenge, both for my busy fingers, and fantabulious(?) frizzled hair. ( Only two weeks in…I think I need an assistant mama! ) I’m ready for fall/fall into bed/to fall off the responsible parent band wagon and begin bribing with candies! Yup, I so do that in the summer. Anything blue raspberry flavored is a big hit, or treats containing bugs. Gross yet effective.

Birdie is part of an invitation only math ‘prodigy’ class for the next month. As proud as I am and believe me I AM SO PROUD – I’m sad I can’t converse with her about all she’s learning. I.suck.at.math.

Summer is our season of random facts, in which I will happily share with you, my amazing minions, as I learn them.

Courtesy of Birdie
Turtles breathe out their butts.
I googled it.
The Australian White-throated Snapping Turtle does it to be specific. Because we wouldn’t want to make this claim about every turtle. It’s a rare thing indeed to breathe out ones butt. Let’s not get into the finer points of this fact but enjoy that my daughter found it at all. And I’m still laughing about it.

My son JJ likes to regurgitate the inappropriate comments (because he’s six yuh know) that our neighbors make. I’ve been getting schooled on the word ‘juicy‘ and how said word is used by a certain Mister neighbor to describe the Missus’ butt. JJ told me my butt was juicy this morning and I spray n’ washed his cute little face with my coffee.

*Have your kids or other small humans in your lives said anything you just can’t forget? Funny factoids? I’d love to read all about it!*


 

A Daughters Heart

 

 

There is a child in my daughters class, who every day comes through the door dressed like a model for a department store. Popped collar shirts, masculine jeans, skater shoes…the most expensive of accessories.

The bell rings and his shoulders fall. His discomfort fades away and this beautiful child is – at least until the bell goes off to head back home – no longer the boy his surely loving parents dress him to be, but ‘Linda’…a snarky and at times confident child. Just one of the girls.

My sweet Birdie has sat me down many times to let out the built up frustration she feels on behalf of Linda. Whether this child’s parents even know, how come they make who she feels is obviously more comfortable as a her/she/girl/young lady, dress and act like a him/he/handsome young man. My daughter asks why he should have to pretend to be someone she’s not, while little Birdie has always been allowed to be Birdie.

My daughter does not like the tight, high-riding and/or low cut girls clothing. She does not enjoy bling and glitter, bows and girly-ness. Her wardrobe, much like mine was at her age – is filled with boys clothes, shoes, accessories. Nike football shirts, athletic pants and shorts, basketball shoes. She has one dress, which she has worn once. It wasn’t forced, she wanted it and so I bought it.

While trying to help my little girl (with the over-sized and often overly sensitive heart) understand Linda’s life, and the choices we make to be happy, the wise and wonderful mom in me realized something. My daughter is amazing. My daughter has managed to grasp and master what we take charge humans often find ourselves struggling with – acceptance. Whether of ourselves, others, circumstances, happenstances. She gets it.

 

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(While there are a host of ‘issues’ surrounding this ‘subject of debate’…I’ll cross my t’s and dot my i’s as they find their way to the paper, but not before.)

*****

I try not to be a drop in what I feel is an already overflowing cup of unsolicited opinions/advice, but I just want to say that with everything going on, going wrong – I am not worried or afraid of Linda’s miraculous friendship with my daughter.

I am fearful of war.

I am heartbroken for each human being that dies because they are starving.

I pray that those who are lost will be found, free, happy.

I do not pray that God changes someone who finds solace in being who they feel they’re meant to be.

 

*I am a Christian, and I’ve read the Bible. I’ve also lived, lost, learned along the way.*

 

I love my children, and as long as I’m living and beyond I will love them. If I can love my children then I can love your children. If I can accept my children’s desire to be who they choose/need to be, well then I can do the same for yours.

This isn’t about what I want but what makes my children/our children feel whole. I don’t understand it. But I’m not afraid of it, of change. I’m not afraid of a difference of opinion either, but I’m afraid for those human beings that are cast aside because they choose to live. I’m just one person I know. God has taught me that if nothing else, He’s saved me to share His love. He fought for my life through addiction, homelessness…and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one to cast a stone at one of HIS greatest gifts…another human being. A life worthy of existence. All unique, all loved, all beautiful in his eyes and therefore in mine.

 

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Because It’s Good Fun

 

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I haven’t been posting very much lately and for those that have missed it I do apologize! Life has been going at full ludicrous speed around our house and I’ve been playing catch up myself for weeks!

Tank is walking so I spend most of my days chasing, oohing and aahing, and cleaning up after everyone else so he won’t realize he can reach the table and countertops to make big messes. I had forgotten how much I loved cabinet locks!!

JJ graduates from kindergarten next week and has requested all the festivities of a college grad for ‘his’ party…streamers, costumes, darts, bubbles…and a new bike.

 

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Birdie will be heading to middle school next year and with that comes the joys of hitting that all important ‘girls only‘ kind of puberty at the most awkward time…and her fifth grade swimming party is TOMORROW!!! *sigh*

Our son Jay has been off and on with his anxiety meds, which if anyone knows anything about any type of medication it’s that one must use it as prescribed. Trying to word things without hurting his anxious feelings about what he’s like without his meds is driving our relationship into a wall – made of steel. The kid is just 14, 6′ tall and 200 lbs of oil and water, grease and fire, bubbles and flower petals. Ugh. It. Sucks. He’s heading off to high school next year and has no desire to do ANYTHING. That at least, is typical of his age – and then there’s girls….calling, texting, never ending. (Enter mama bear stone cold and unamused face here.)

My 18 yr. old son is applying to work at a casino for the summer. No I don’t like it, but he’s 18. He’s 18. I feel old…perhaps this part should be left out? (I mean, I really do only dye my hair because I like to right? There’s no gray…is there?)

Of course there’s the life outside of party planning, having to do laundry and change diapers. There’s more to my life than meeting with teachers, doctors and short-order meal requests at 0100 hours. I’m also a wife. And my husband has been doing a lot around here for us. Bravo has a job and if all goes well he will switch from being a contract position to permanent employee in about 8 weeks. Thank God for regular pay, hours and bill paying. I am so thankful that we can buy pizza on Saturday nights if we want and buy that really soft toilet paper again.

With all this to-do and so on, I forgot to mow our yard, or just the back yard really. Then it rained for a week. Then it was hot and humid, sunny beyond measure…and I kid you not the measurements of grass are a two foot minimum. I’m gonna need a tractor, an old rake and a new mower. Help! (And with two dogs, kids, and a fear of Lyme disease this mama and her hubby have been weed whacking and raking Deadpool style. Cursing, laughing, inappropriately joking and bribing our kiddos to get in on this fun.)

Anyway, I hope the coming new season will be filled with more of my little bit of heaven. Because as bitchy as this blog post sounds…it’s all I’ve ever wanted. And the bits of hope, happiness and love sprinkled about are all I need to know I’m right where I should be.

 

***On a side note, I watched the mo vie  ‘Deadpool’ and it was disgusting – as in disgustingly funny.***

 

 

 

 

Mama/Me…

 

 

My heart beats, thankful to be here.
Thinking of ways to show these beautiful faces how much they are loved when the best of me feels far and away is a fete for the ages I tell you.
I wonder if that’s what this is, this motherly thing I do… If worrying about doing it right or wrong makes me a good mother or someone just muddling her way through this thing called life-with-kids.

Is it painful to admit I feel in over my head just now? Yes, but that’s okay by me because honesty is exactly what I’m hoping/going for. A child that is honest. A mom that is honest still. A family that is whole – honestly. I have recently found that loneliness really can make one crazy, and how crazy it is that often being alone is what I crave. Not because I want out of my job or life or love but because I NEED to find me outside of my mommy-ness. But what would I be without these kids, memories, years?

My/our special ‘Mothers Day’ is Sunday if you didn’t know. And I’m just happy to be here, every day, even on the crappy days that don’t end or the long nights that see the dawn. With almost every mommy deed lacking in poetic beauty there is still all the beautifully crafted moments woven in that I hold onto…

Baby bubble baths
Sickly midnight moments filled with hugs
Twice cut no crust sandwiches
Dark kitchens and moonlit kisses
Windy days spent flower picking
Shooting the ball between mopping and scrubbing
Burps, farts, boogers-at all meals…and timed to perfection

Sweetest-dream giggles
First teeth, first steps, first dates
Last kisses before the bus
One last goodnight

 

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To all the moms I hope you have some of these moments today and every day. The world just wouldn’t be the same without them – or us.

*Happy Mothers Day.*

 

 

 

A Dash of Hope…

 

 

A simple ‘Sorry‘ does not seem to accurately portray how I feel about the first year of your life my sweet darling son. Though you are so wanted I find it hard to want to be here. I know when you nurse in the middle of the night, that as you caress my face so lovingly you feel the moisture my tears have left there as they stream down my face. It’s not because of you I promise. They are weeping from deep within my sad heart FOR you. I cherish your kisses you share with me after your bath time, when you wake every morning. I adore that you hold my face still just so you can look into my soul. I wonder if perhaps you do see the mama I long to be, to feel like, rather than the mother I more often than not seem to be. Thank You for loving me when I feel so unworthy of such a gift. You are most precious to me my darling son. When I walk into our room to pick you up from your naps, you light up like the lilies in our garden as they follow the Suns light in the morning. All that joy just at the sight of me – it melts my heart. Thank you for finding happiness in me, in our kitchen dancing sessions. I’m so glad you’re not a picky listener…as I sing off key…and you still hum along to our favorite songs. You never seem worried that I won’t be here, for you, even when I feel so far away. I hope that never changes, as most days it is my saving grace. Your laugh reminds me of your fathers, and beyond that your grandfathers. You must be a very old soul to understand the things you do and see, and still laugh so whole-heartedly. Your patience takes my breath away my darling son. Always waiting for your mother to wipe her tears, always with the knowledge that you are my reason to keep going.

 

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I use to have the most terrible dreams when we were one. Dreams that all the things the doctors were telling me could happen did happen, and yet, so perfect was your smile, your heart, your tiny beautiful body when you were born. All the tests, and all the ultrasounds could not quiet this fretful mind I have. Forever lingering on the first words rather than the last of each specialist that kindly tried to calm my fears and assure me that you were healing inside of me. I counted the days until your healthy arrival, and then, suddenly when you were about one month in age – I started to weep at what I thought was a case of built up fears and stress finally allowing themselves to be released – having been given the ‘all clear’ at the sight of your glossy eyes staring into mine. The weeping never stopped. And now here I am, with you, thankful and without a way to show it. I tell you daily that I am, because I feel you need to hear it. I need you to hear it. I’m so afraid that you don’t feel my love for you. Trembling with guilt that I haven’t done enough as the sun goes down to show you I’m still here fighting for us, our family, you. It may seem like it’s all for not just now my darling son, but with Gods grace and loving kindness – one day soon all the pain your mama holds back from her world will subside. And I will truly be here. And you’ll be waiting… my darling son.

There is much to be said about my life as a mother, your mother. It is a job I adore and am beyond thankful to have. I know so many women who do not have this and would give up everything to have a baby just like you…perfect in every way. That thought is never far from me. As I carefully toss and turn in the bed we share, I think about how I can do better, show more love, be more patient and kind. It dawned on me this morning before the sun was even up…you are the example God has given me. For you are my inspiration, the vibrant ying to my tattered yang. The banana to my peanut butter. The best of me. I love you my darling son. I’m not here yet, but I’m not going anywhere…I promise.

 

 

Because He Loves Me.

My father died the day after Easter four years ago. He was in a hospital, surrounded by those he loved, that loved him. I was not there. I was not able to hold his hand or sit with my brother while he cried for our father. I could only call from 1700 miles away and hope that my words made a difference. I was beside myself with guilt. I missed my dad. I missed being there.

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When I was a child my father took us to Grandma and Grandpas house for Easter. Ham, homemade canned cherries, black olives on each finger. Easter egg hunts, and running amuck with my many cousins, my brother. That’s what Easter should be. Memories carried throughout our lives. The memories that we want to pass on to our children.

Though it’s been so long since I went home to see my family, they are always close. A thought, a prayer away. My dad, in my mind, is sitting by a fire, enjoying the star light, drinking the worst tasting coffee known to man.

When I became a Christian it was almost unthinkable to me that any being could love me, let alone God. After having my own and very personal tragedies in this life – and living through them, I know He does. I would not be here without God keeping watch, ever waiting for me to stop running and just be still. Protecting me from the terrible choices I made, keeping me from the depths of my own hell. I had children and my eyes were opened to that love in a new way. Giving a child up to save a stranger, let alone a drug addict, teen parent, homeless pile of worthlessness, is something I would never do – but God did that for me.

So, as I sit on my deck, so blessed, knowing what it is to suffer, I’m all too aware that there is much that the world doesn’t see about me, my life. But if I could choose just one part of myself to share with you, it would be the love of God.

I won’t push it on you full court press, that’s not who I am. If you don’t believe in God or are undecided, I don’t cherish you any less, and love you just the same. I don’t preach, I just choose to live my life accepting others as God does with me every day.

No matter your faith I hope this Easter weekend finds you with family, friends, the things you truly cherish in this life. I hope and pray that you look around and see all you have. Your very little bit of heaven may be more than your neighbor has. Know that if you’re spending it alone, or maybe lost, I’m thinking of you. You have a value within that is unmatched.

Make wonderful new memories to replace the sad, lonely moments. Each day is a blessing.

Sticky Boogers & Tea Time…

Boogers. Life is filled with boogers. Boogers here, there….everywhere.

As a mom they are a tell tale sign of many things, germs and crusty faces, colds, teething, allergies. Even my dog gets boogers on me. Every morning. Because he snorts like a pig at my comings and goings, and he’s huge…so are his boogers.

I have a long and hateful relationship with said boogers. I find them all along my journey of life with anxiety. Big boogers like weekend trips, dental work and my health. Small boogies like laundry, dishes, diapers and of course…boogers.

I love my family. I love that I have dogs, a cat and many many children. I enjoy my life. I don’t enjoy the boogers that crust it up. Or slime all over it.

Current booger on my mind presently…my husbands job ending in 9 days! 9 fracking days. Nine. That’s two more days than kids we have, days of the week, and minutes until my little humans hit the pillow. What the actual f$@k are we gonna do???

(In my mind to lighten the load I often say things like this:
‘Holy food-stamps Batman! Jobless in 9 days you say????
Yes Robin, in 9 days we turn in our shark repellent and catchy phrases for unemployment checks….’)

But under that I’m all but beside myself with contemplation about needed future dental work, stocking up on laundry detergent, dry food goods and the tissues required for handling this enormous booger of a problem.

How did we get here you may ask?…Taking a line (or many?) from a fave fellow blogger I will tell you…

***If we were sitting and drinking tea (because coffee is now a no-go…) together I will probably shed a quick tear. Then tell a story about my hard working hubby and how he got screwed by a national bank chain on his contract. In February he was told they were extending said contract with the full/promised intention of finding him a full time position with better benefits, vacation, the works. March 1st rolls around and the bitches rolled over/went back on their word. Bastards.
As we sip our tea, I’d shed another tear, and then maybe you’d ask if he’d been applying anywhere…to which I would lovingly sigh and tell you he’s been having phone interviews for weeks, a few in-person meet and greets but to no avail. That’s when if I’m blessed (and I’m sure I am because I’m with you) you will hand me a Kleenex to wipe my boogers. They’d be the soft tissues with lotion because that’s what good friends have when their friends are in crisis mode.
I drink my last bit of tea, you will smile with a look of love/pity/loss of words. Hugs are given and I leave to cry in my beast of a mini-van the whole way home.***

So, just as I ponder on the end of the official cold season, the reprieve before allergy season hits me, I am blowing into my store brand tissue, red-nosed, and overwhelmed. Damn the boogers of my life. Thank the Lord I know this too will pass, and if nothing else, I can always trade in my kids Pokemon cards for Kleenex money.

The Last First Birthday…More Than Just a Gift.

Today is special for many many many reasons. It is a birthday. It is a first birthday. It is the last first birthday. We are both alive to share it.

When I was pregnant with Tank they found blood in his bowels, too much fluid in his kidneys. Symptoms of all kinds of scary birth defects, and Down syndrome. So I did genetic testing, filled out papers, had blood drawn and many ultrasounds until I gave birth. They broke my water and he’d been in my oven dry as a fish out of water for hours, his heart rate and mine quivered up and down. Tank was born healthy, lovely, three weeks early and fought to the bitter end to stay safely hidden away.

I had complained from about my sixteenth week of pregnancy of not being able to breathe. It wasn’t my anxiety. I felt like I had COPD, lung cancer. Stairs were nearly impossible to take on. My doc never listened. By the half way mark of my pregnancy I was grabbing the headboard to stretch out my torso…all in an attempt to breathe. Still, nobody would listen. I was sent to the ER for high blood pressure a few times, pain in my upper right abdomen, and my right shoulder. Nothing. All anyone told me was that ‘I was older/the more babies the harder on your body it is/you’re just fine dear.’ So when I gave birth I just knew I’d be able to breathe again. That final push was, in my mind, curing me of this terrifying suffocation. No.

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Nine days, and two pain pill prescriptions later I begged to be seen by the doc. Apparently not understanding my plight they put me in a room with a nurse practitioner who, to my surprise, listened more than any of the doc’s I had seen in the last 10 months. She told me to go straight to the ER, and assumed I had a clot in my lung. No.

I was admitted after a few hours, and after blood work, scans, ultrasounds, pee-in-the-cup-tricks, and poking/prodding they realized I had fluid around my heart which was struggling to beat, and had been for some time apparently. I had fluid around my damaged liver, which caused my liver enzymes to sky rocket, and my gallbladder, which was not functioning-at all. So they started me on a diuretic, which blessed me with the super woman power of super long potty trips, which was the color of shiny new pennies, and I lost 11 lbs. of fluid in under four hours. My diagnosis was HELLP syndrome. All because I was ‘whining’. Alas the symptoms have lingered and I often feel out of breath, tired, and catch every cold that comes my way. My gallbladder is slowly healing and the fluid in my legs is receding day by day by day….so there’s that to be thankful for on my end.

I could have had so many terrible things come out of all of this, but instead I had my last baby, perfect in every way, given to me, as if I was worthy enough. I’m so blessed.

My son JJ came to me a few months ago and we had the sweetest, most telling and wise conversation I think I could ever have with him…

“Mama, I know why you are having another baby…”
“You do? And why do think I’m having this baby?”
“Because you don’t want to be lonely.”

That just cuts deep. So true. So sweet/sad.

I can’t imagine a life without Tank, or any of our kids for that matter. This birthday is more than just my last first birthday. It is my last time to BE here, with my young one, and not be lonely. This fact is so very sad for me, but also, it is one of the most revealing, and by far the larger whole of my heaven.

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***Happy First Birthday Tank. You are my heart, and you keep me beating. ***