Category: Heart & Home

Just Wondering… Why Me?

Published on by Lindsey B.2 Comments

Heads up that I’ll be whining here a bit. I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. A lot frustrated. Even more angry.

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I haven’t been feeling well, I’ve been exhausted, etc… I didn’t go deep into detail because I didn’t really know what was going on and brushed off many symptoms as related to known issues.

Last weekend while people were enjoying a beautiful Saturday, I was lying in emerge. Fun times. I was seriously scared I was having a heart attack and once triaged, was put into a room immediately. When it comes to emergency medicine, I’m pretty sure you want to be the patient asked to sit in the waiting room because it’s not serious.

A number of tests were ordered including ECGs, blood panels, etc. The attending E.R. doctor came in eventually and said, “The good news is your heart is fine. The bad news is your thyroid isn’t working properly.” She then called in an internist who gave me a very (brief) overview and a prescription for beta blockers that stopped the heart palpitations (yes!), but didn’t address the thyroid issues.

This week I’ve been a mess. The “not feeling well” has gone beyond not feeling well… and I still didn’t know what was going on. I booked an appointment with my endocrinologist that oversees the Type 1 treatment. She’s thorough and autoimmune disorders are her specialty. Unfortunately they couldn’t see me until today.

Yesterday I crashed my GPs office in tears. When I say I was a mess, I mean that he concurred. Emotional, pained, exhausted, worried, hot, nauseous, stubborn high blood sugar, head aches, etc. He provided a calm listening ear, reassured me that I’ve done nothing wrong, and offered encouragement saying that things will get better.

At my endo appointment, she discussed things further. Ordered additional tests to confirm or determine the cause (suspected Graves disease.) Sent me for more bloodwork and prescribed additional meds. Pretty much told me I’m unfortunately vulnerable to the very thing that’s supposed to keep me healthy.

So I’m mad. Why has MY immune system gone rogue? Why do I have to deal with not one, but two, serious autoimmune disorders? Why do they have to complicate each other? Why can’t I just make it through a week without needing naps and Tylenol and gravol and multiple medications? I’m trying to stay positive… but honestly, I’m also heart sore at the moment.

Anyone have tips for better living and eating to protect your thyroid? Please forgive my complaints – I know that there are others dealing with far worse complaints… But honestly, at the moment, I just want to feel like me again – happy, productive me. I’m indulging a little bit of wondering… why me???

Rambling on a Busy Week

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I haven’t read as much as I’d have liked to this week. It’s been crazy busy – so busy I may have forgotten an important appointment, whoops! I’ve had some turnover in our office that has required some flexibility, we volunteered our time for a massive fundraising yard sale, and of course, we celebrated one special kid’s birthday. All important things on top of the normal things and by the time I’ve managed to sit down or crawl into bed, my body has been saying “Close your eyes, woman!”

I allowed the birthday boy (because he’s the birthday boy all week) skip school today. Last night, he was working alongside adults and pulling his weight (and more than) helping to move boxes and furniture for the yard sale, in the damp, in the dark, no complaining. Today, they moved everything again (out into the field) so he asked if he could help hands-on so I made the call that community service was an important learning opportunity for him as well. I’m remarkably proud of his generous and kind heart.

When we got home this afternoon, a little chilly and damp, he turned on the Food Network while I puttered around tidying the house (before my BRAND NEW WASHING MACHINE is delivered tomorrow! Pinnacle of adulthood!) He left it on when he moved to his room and I’ve been sucked into the web of Carnival Food, Firemasters, and Chopped. In all reality, I should really be vacumming the couch, but I just don’t want to move. Honestly, I could take a nap. The dog is cozy looking on his bed, snoring out loud, and I’m a little jealous.

I know this is all a ramble and I really don’t have a point… but sometimes I just need to spew in a sort of decompression. We have a busy weekend ahead – Mother’s Day lunch with my in-laws, Sunday School prep (I keep forgetting that I’m the teacher this week!), church (and Sunday school), and dinner with Kevin’s in-laws (aka my family.)

So here are my final thoughts… how do you decompress or carve out a time to recharge when you’ve had a busy, productive week and know that the weekend isn’t going to be any better? And how will you be honouring Mom this weekend? I always jokingly comment that we’re so busy celebrating all the other moms that this mom doesn’t get any time for herself. Any others mamas feel that way? Mothers Day weekend is as hectic as Christmas.

Chubby Cheeks & Endless Love

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By all outward appearances, today was the same as any other day. My boys bickered over breakfast. I had to remind them to feed the dog three times. I’m pretty sure they both forgot to put deodorant on this morning and I’m not entirely sure they brushed their teeth. Some punches were thrown in the backseat of the car. We tripped over things lying around in the house. There are dishes in the sink.

But today was a special day as well. Our youngest is twelve years old. For those who are familiar with our J, he is one of a kind special. He’s quite adept at pushing buttons and to be honest, he can be a little bit annoying. He’s also remarkably curious. He’s creative. His imagination will keep him entertained for hours. He loves to talk (he gets that from his dad, of course.) He struggles with school at times (but I think it’s boredom and how easily he’s distracted) but he gets pretty good grades. He doesn’t have many close friends, but he’s friendly with everyone. He doesn’t walk – anywhere – he dances, he skips, he wiggles. He can be impulsive, he can be mischievous, he can be sweet as sugar. He’s a cuddler and a thinker and just a wee bit weird.

As he ages, I want him to be all of those things. I want him to have a plan for life, but be comfortable marching to the beat of his own drum. I want him to be respectful of others, but never compromise who he is at heart. I want him to indulge his curiosity and share his learning with absolutely everyone and everyone. Taking inspiration from the words of Thor’s mom in the latest Avenger’s movie, “Everyone fails at who they’re supposed to be… a measure of a person, of a hero, is how well they succeed at being who they are.” – along these lines, I want him to have the confidence to be the very best version of himself without ever bearing the weight of other’s expectations. I pray he is successful and follows his path and that he remains true to himself and God’s plan along the way.

2007 | Cuddles in the NICU

I look back over the last 12 years and remember the chubby cheeked babe who spent a week in the NICU. I remember the baby in the backyard who couldn’t stand the grass. The toddler who loved the mud and always had a grin on his face. The toothless wonder cheeky in school pictures. The young student who got in trouble for having a collection of erasers in his desk – and using them to enact battles during class time. The boy who loves art shows and takes so. much. time. selecting. art. cards for his room. The one who participates in craft shows and volunteers to set up our church kids’ camp every summer. The boy who wanted to buy a book about birds and spent hours lying on the trampoline bird watching. The one who gets emotional in books but claims to hate reading. I miss the chubby cheeks and endless rolls – the innocence of the whys and hows of the toddler years – but I also love and cherish every moment that is shaping his future as a man. I hope he nevers forgets how amazing we think he is and that in another twelve years he can look back on his time in our home and know that he is loved beyond measure.

Waiting…

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My dear friend Amy Weatherly shared some insightful words on Facebook this morning. (I call her my dear friend, but I’ve never met her in real life, but I love incredibly much because she shares such transparent words of beautiful encouragement in the vehicle of social media and I’m sure if we met face to face we’d totally be BFFs because she speaks my language.)

I was musing on what to share in relation to Good Friday and Easter Sunday, but nothing was quite right. Then I read Amy’s post and realised what she said was meaningful and relevant and perfect. Maybe somebody reading this post needs the reminder.

Waiting is hard. We tend to be impatient by nature. Just hold on tightly to hope. Stand firmly in your faith. The story isn’t over yet.

Here is Amy’s wisdom:

“Friday was dark. Friday was death. Friday was mourning, and weeping, and pain.

Sunday was light. Sunday was life. Sunday was rejoicing, and crying happy tears, and hope.

But what about Saturday? What about the Sabbath? What about the middle day? What was going on? How were people feeling?

We don’t really know a ton, honestly.

The disciples scattered. They fled. They ran. They hid.

I’m assuming they were scared and unsure, probably in a state of shock and disbelief, wondering if they were next. Maybe mad. Probably sad. Probably confused. Probably wondering what was next for them.

Their entire lives had just been turned upside down and inside out.

The women were preparing. They were gathering oils and spices.

I’m assuming they had no clue what was coming. I’m assuming they believed this was the end. I’m assuming they were wreaked with grief.

Saturday—the day in-between—it was a day of waiting, and waiting is one of the more difficult things in life.

It’s hard when you’re waiting for someone to return your call. It’s hard when you’re in the middle of an argument and you don’t know how the whole thing is going to play out. It’s hard when your kids are going through a season of change.

It’s hard when you’re waiting on a diagnosis. Its hard when you’re waiting for treatment. It’s hard when you’re waiting on a job. It’s hard when you’re waiting on love. It’s hard when you’re waiting on a baby. It’s hard when you’re waiting on depression to subside.

It’s hard when you feel like giving up. It’s hard when you feel like throwing in the towel. It’s hard when you feel like nothing good is happening, and like nothing good will ever happen again.

Whether you’ve been waiting one day, one year, or one-half or your life, it’s just plain hard.

I don’t know much. I’m not a scholar. I’m not anything special. At all. At all. At all.

But I know this: Jesus was still working when no one could see it. Jesus was still fighting when no one could feel it. Jesus was still fulfilling promises and making things happen, because Jesus doesn’t mess around, and Jesus doesn’t let things go to waste.

Friday was good. Sunday was great. But there was a purpose to that day of waiting too.

I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t know how long you’ve been waiting. I don’t know what the ultimate plan for your life is, and I definitely don’t know what your future holds, but Jesus does.

Hold on to hope. Sunday is coming.

Happy Easter.”

Original post can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/2010855982483981/posts/2355385844697658/

Engineering, Empty Water Bottles, and A Boring Afternoon

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I will be the first to admit we have a problem when it comes to using plastic water bottles here. They do get recycled and we legitimately have been advised not to drink our water because of the sodium content and other TDS in our well water. It’s safe, so we use it for cooking, but because some of us are watching sodium intake for health reasons, it’s been recommended that we avoid downing glass after glass.

This means we always have bottles lying around waiting for recycling day. Our oldest (13) – affectionately known s basement troll or basement goat (his voice is cracking!) came up when I got home from the office on Friday and was on the hunt.

One single bottle. Fill it with water. Disappear downstairs. Back 10 minutes later. Repeat. Three or four times.

By now I’m remarkably curious and a little bit concerned because what on earth could he be doing? Elaborate water fountain? Crazy water cannon? Some kind of booby trap? (Is that a politically correct term?) The random thoughts racing through my mind are epic and I’m imagining a flooded mess across his little corner of the basement. (Only 4 water bottles. I didn’t say they were rational thoughts.)

Turns out the boy – the bored and incredibly lazy boy – was building a weighted automatic door closer. Who said you can’t learn something from YouTube? Through some trial and error – some experimenting with various tensile ropes, adjusting the number of bottles, and replacing pushpins with nails – he found a system that works.

I’m at turns both strangely proud and absolutely befuddled. It’s not like it’s hard to close a door behind you… but the other perspective is that an afternoon of creativity and engineering always wins!

His next project involved pliers and a fork. I may have just played ignorant and hoped no one lost an eye…

A Boy, A Book, and A Little Bit of Heartbreak

Published on by Lindsey B.2 Comments

My youngest son, 11, claims to not enjoy reading, but when he finally sits down with a book, he gets lost in the pages. He’s still been reading “No Better Friend“, a biographical story by Robert Weintraub, for a school project. In short, it’s “the extraordinary tale of friendship and survival between a man and a dog in World War II.”

When we were looking for a biography, he had two requirements:

1. There had to be a dog in the story

2. It couldn’t die.

He approved the description from Amazon so we bought the book. He heard the word “survival” and reason failed – I’m not actually sure how he believed a dog that was alive in the early ’40s would still be here today. He’s been so gripped by this one, that he didn’t see the end coming.

He was sent off to do some reading and I knew he was in the last chapters. All of a sudden he storms out of his room yelling “Doggo died!”. Now at first I had a moment of panic because our old smelly beast had been hiding in his bedroom with him, but no, that impression was cleared up immediately when the smelly beast followed him out.

My bewildered mind was still trying to process the situation when a book came sailing past my head and said boy plopped himself into a chair in the corner and burst into tears. I’m now befuddled and slightly amused.

He’s experienced his first heartbreak at the hands of a book. I wanted to wrap him in a great big bear hug while my shoulders silently shook with laughter and a stray tear found it’s way onto my cheek. We tried to discuss the story and pull apart his feelings, but he needed to let his tears wash some of the pain away. He now understands why I sometimes cry when I read.

He understands the wonder of the word on page and how we can become enmeshed and entangled in a world not our own. To say this book had an emotional impact is an understatement. In our case, he was so highly engaged in the true story of Judy (Doggo) and Frank (the British Radarman) that his young heart was bruised with the loss of a friend. (Mama was just happy that he learned about some of the atrocities of WWII and life as a POW.)

In my books, any story that can evoke such genuine feeling is a win. Not only did it capture the tale of loyalty and friendship of the characters, it spurred loyalty in the reader – a spirited 11-year-old boy. That, my friends, is a well-written story – well-written, indeed!

Kindness: A Balm to the Soul

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It’s remarkable how complacent we become in our day-to-day routines until something upsets the rhythm and we are left scrambling to find our footing. In the constant juggle of everyday life, we often fail to appreciate the little things. When our world goes awry, we’re caught off guard – unbalanced – and crave a state of equilibrium. How petty we seem until we look at all the little details in the big picture.

This week, I’m once again, grateful for friends – the ones who reach down when we are at our stubborn worst and find us the help we need, the ones who step in and provide the help we need when we are adamant that we. are. fine. These are the friends to hang on to. The friends to cling to tightly.

One of my strongest “love languages” in action is acts of service – as in this is how I communicate I care… but I’ve also learned when I’m drowning, I will stubbornly tread water instead of reaching for the life lines that are thrown my way. Why do “helpers” always find it so hard to accept help? I appreciate the ones who will jump into the water with me and hold my head above water. They are priceless.

This week, I’m once again, grateful for health that I often take for granted. I’m thankful for a warm, soft bed; a house over my head – mess and all. I’m appreciative of my kids and their little quirks (even when my thirteen year old texts me while I’m in an ER hooked up to an IV and awaiting chest x-rays asking if I will be getting a new phone so he can have my old phone after I leave the hospital – even then I am grateful.) I am recognizant of my blessings as small as they may seem (clean socks this morning even though I haven’t tackled the laundry all week…) or when they seem overwhelmingly all-encompassing (a freezer full of meals that were prepared by hands that weren’t my own!)

The best portion of a good man’s life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.

William Wordsworth

I’m reminded once again that it’s okay to ask for help, to grasp that help when it’s freely offered. I’ve been humbled enough to see that it’s okay to let go of something for a short time to tightly hold onto the things that matter. I’m learning that in our weakness, we find strength; at our frailest, we find our foundations; in our humility, we see what’s truly meaningful.

The journey of life can be hard. One day it can be a perfect path for ambling along without a care beyond getting a sunburn and then you round a bend and hit a roadblock, in the rain, and you don’t have a coat. It’s full of smooth, straight paths in one moment and abounding with steep cliffs and rubble the next. Cling to hope. Know where your anchor lies. Bring companions on the trail. If you shed some tears along the way – so be it; laughter can be a lifeline; but kindness? Kindness, of course, is a balm to the soul.

Book Review: The Little Vintage Carousel by the Sea by Jaimie Admans

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It’s been one bumpy week. I haven’t been feeling great which has translated into not sleeping great which has translated into dull migraines on top of not feeling great. To cap it off, it’s the busiest week of the year with one of my clients. Unfortunately, it’s also a week that we packed a ton of extra stuff into and while I want to do the things, there is the exhausted introverted part of me that’s had enough and wants to huddle up with some good books all weekend and do nothing – and I mean nothing – but read – like from now until Sunday night bed time. Is it the end of the world? No. Do others have it worse? Of course.

Charming & Quirky

I did get sometime in between all the busyness and that’s vital – it keeps me sane. I read a few quick and easy books and this one, The Little Vintage Carousel by the Sea, written by Jaimie Admans, actually had me chuckling out loud on occasion. It’s so far-fetched and the characters are adorably awful. The book is rife with humour and awkwardness – it’s a ridiculous love-at-first sight type of tale – but it works. I was charmed by the entire thing!

Parts of it were repetitive – heavy reliance on references to a classic film and song, certain turns of phrase, internal dialogue, but overall it was exactly what I was looking for – a sweet and easy romance. It was a (mostly) cheery contemporary British love story that begins in London and takes you seaside to an over-the-top little village that you can’t help but want to visit – nosy seniors and all. It wove a historical, mysterious thread through the entire plot that was relevant to the conclusion. The title is available for pre-order now – it would make a great little holiday read. 3.5 stars from me – it wasn’t epic, but I enjoyed it!

I received a complimentary copy of this title from the publisher and/or author via NetGalley. All opinions expressed are my own.

Published by: HQ Digital
Publication Date: April 3, 2019

Life… and a Book Review: The Liar in the Library by Simon Brett

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I meal planned this week… and not a single meal went to plan so far. We’re going with it. Monday, Kev brought home samosas that we paired with spring rolls. Last night, he decided to pick up pizza. Tonight, I prepared dinner for 20 teens that I had conveniently thought I didn’t have to do for another few weeks. (Meatball subs using frozen meatballs for the win… I mean, I did heat up the meatballs first.) I have a few meatballs in sauce left… so tomorrow night won’t go according to plan either. Whatever. We have food in our bellies and extra supplies for next week. Not a big deal.

My boys are finally home again and I’m so happy! Do parents feel like this when their kids are my age (30-something…) and decide to pop in for a visit? Do you ever lose the excitement of your kids coming “home” if you haven’t seen them in awhile? Asking for a friend… Just so you know how much they missed me, while I was in the middle row of the van my mom was driving to go visit my niece yesterday, both boys took off their shoes and put their disgusting smelly socked feet in my face. So yeah… I feel loved and cherished.

While the munchkins were gone, I read ALL. THE. BOOKS. (Not really… but I put a good dent in my NetGalley to-be-read pile and have to catch up with all the reviews.) One such title was Simon Brett’s “The Liar in the Library.”

Unwittingly, when I requested the title, I was not aware that it was the 18th book in the Feathering Mystery series. It didn’t make a huge impact – I could figure out who characters were and what was going on without having to dig up 17 previous titles. But really, who starts reading a new series at Book 18? Something about that bothers me… I have my issues.

It was a classic Whodunnit, throwing one of the key protagonists into the spotlight of suspicion. I wasn’t blown away by the mystery or the writing, but it was a cozy piece of crime fiction set in a quaint British seaside community with not entirely loveable characters.

Again… this novel was of those titles that’s just a midpoint rating from me. It was easy to read and a good little escape, but didn’t leave any particular strong feelings or impressions one way or another.

A copy of this book was provided to me by the publisher via Netgalley. All opinions expressed are my own.

Publisher: Black Thorn Books

Publication Date: June 16, 2019

Strong Yet Tired

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Have you seen the quote “She is strong, but she’s exhausted?” Lemme tell you…. sitting on my couch this Sunday evening, after being home for approximately .02 hours today, I can relate. I am strong. I am tired… bone deep, soul achingly tired. I have given 167% of myself to the caring of others and their projects over the last few days and I need to find some space before I can give again.

These crazy few days will be leading to a busy few weeks. My to-do list is getting longer instead of shorter. I’ve been juggling family concerns, trying to put out fires, and been juggling so many balls that I picked up someone else’s and didn’t even notice. (Apparently I was not scheduled to teach the children’s program at church this morning. I was convinced I had to squeeze it in. Oh sweet relief when my other team showed up!)

I know that I am not alone. Every mama trying to balance life will go through moments of utter exhaustion. So this week my floors may not get vacuumed as often, but the kids will have clean teeth. Our dinners may consist of more convenience food, but my family will be fed. The laundry may begin to pile up, but shorts will be washed for a March break trip with grandparents.

I may indulge in a takeout latte instead of making my own. I will carve out time for a book nap (you know, when you’re reading but your eyes get heavy so you sleep instead?) in the 15 minutes I’ll have before I have to pick up a kid from band practice. I will set a timer to leave the office when I am scheduled to because my health – physically and mentally – is more important than replying to 5 more emails. I will drink my water, get my steps in, and breathe deep when my eyes start to blur.

I am strong. I am tired. But I am also working to recharge because I want to be strong and lively. Strong and energetic. Strong and functional.

Strength is recognizing when our bodies are craving rest, our souls are craving silence, and our spirits are craving renewal. Strength means taking care of ouselves a moment, a day, a project at a time. Strength is replenishing ourselves before we run to nothing so we can once again give and live from our hearts. Strength comes from shoring up our foundations and leaning on those who support us when we’re too exhausted to stand on our own.

Where do you find strength when you are tired? Hold on tight, oh exhausted one… take each day at a time. Be strong.