Journey Beyond Survival

Chickadee didn't sleep through the night. The garbage service STILL hasn't started*              *I left an irate  upset message with an ultimatum I got the kids registered to change schools yesterday Chickadee is-of course-proving more difficult to transfer I barely got my exercise in yesterday I got my exercise in today*               *minus fifteen minutes planned cause I dorked around I was too busy to read blogs Too busy to write a real post Too busy to clean Too busy to write period I hate pretty much all of that but I did it anyway

Updated to include the last comment at the top: Ashley @ Nourishing the Soul  said... I even am a doctor and one that specializes in treating eating disorders and I would never dare to judge someone's eating history or mental health status based on a picture or film. Being concerned about someone whom we are close to that has lost significant weight is one thing, but the media is much too quick to place the label of an eating disorder on individuals who look a certain way. Not only does body weight often tell us very little about who has an ED or not, but it serves to take away from the seriousness of those who are suffering. November 30, 2010 12:24 PM  I'm new on this wagon. When I went to Harry Potter a little over a week ago, I was surprised by a comment behind me. "She looks so anorexic right there." Emma Watson. Wait, what? This girl ? This one right here ?   So I looked it up.  It seems it started in 2006.  Really.  This poor girl has...

So I found myself saving a part of my brain because I was going to indulge.  After all, it is Thanksgiving.  I'm not trying to put anything off limits, but be more moderate in my living. So, that made me feel a twinge.  I felt it coming that I was going to just wallow in it.  Fear gripped my heart and I tried doubly hard to get my exercise in, even though nights were rough, and schedules were difficult. Imagine my surprise, when I found myself editing.  We made the traditional North Carolinian Sweet Potato Casserole.   I made the topping with the full fat, sugar, and butter.  But, in the base I skipped out on a full stick of butter and a full cup of sugar.  I just added the egg called for and adjusted to add applesauce.  I also use   neufchatel cream cheese  normally, which also helps with the North Carolinian  Yellow Squash Casserole.   That and always cooking with extra virgin olive oil instead of butter. We ...

Always expect the unexpected. Such a silly phrase. How exactly does one do that? My best training ground has definitely been Rett Syndrome. Pregnancy, parenthood, even spousedom were excellent training wheels. Rett though is like making me a Marine out of a housewife. Practically literally. Case in point: Chickadee didn't sleep for about a month. Not through the night, no naps, a two hour party in the middle of the night. Then suddenly she started sleeping 12 hours a day. No rhyme. No reason. Just neurodevelopmental haymaking. Once again, she. Decided last night to get up and stay up from 2am. Ha. *this was posted from my phone, while cuddling Chickadee. Sorry for any inconsistencies. **please, please share your tips for getting in exercise when your regular time is missed!

I'm so glad I went to bed at 8 PM last night Chickadee went back to sleep 2 hours after that loud thunder clap woke her Beansprout's fever went away Beansprout slept 13 hours last night Beansprout only got up once I still got enough sleep I got in my exercise Mr. Survival took one of this morning's trips to school It's a good thing that we spent four hours on Saturday raking up leaves again.  Rather, I raked and Mr. Survival borrowed a blower.  Did you know that raking is like meditation with a purpose?  It is.  Yep.  Our yard is now soaked because a huge warm storm is making it's way through.  Thank goodness we're almost done. I've got to go grocery shopping.  Anybody else do this?  I keep needing to get there, and it keeps not happening.  My grocery list holds me up, or my schedule, or nerves about a certain holiday? I'm actually excited. I get to cook, and my kids are bubbling over with anticipation.  I love it.  We'll...

It was better.  Food was better. I've been reading books to Chickadee and 'dancing' with her braces on so she won't cry as early.  Her favorite books are: She giggles and laughs in the appropriate places.  Her eye gaze is longer, she is more social.  She seems so relieved to have me back.  Happy to see the belief in her reflected in my face again.  It's like a gorgeous circle that lights up our day. We went to Beansprout and miss THANG's Thanksgiving feast.  I giggle inappropriately.  It's just that it is completely socially acceptable to touch their faces in kindergarten.  Their noses.  Their mouths and their noses at the same time.  Wiping away boogers. miss THANG is the busy queen bee managing all of her friends.  She is nice about it.  I hope she is all the time.  I'm kind of fascinated, because that was NOT me.  Never.  I'm glad she's popular. But, I'm not out of the woods by any means. I'm g...

So, this is the post I've been trying to write for days now. A friend of mine recently told me, "I think it's really important for people of faith to realize:  they might go to hell.  I find it to change my attitude into a healthier position.  One where I don't assume my own righteousness. Or that my goodness outweighs the inevitable bad." I think this would apply to any persons of any philosophical persuasions. For me, it has been just as important to realize, I might be a bad mother.  Hear me out on this.  Because it's true.  I present a certain portion of my motherhood to everyone I meet, I don't indicate the nasty tone in my voice.  I don't present how that has caused a particular sag in the shoulders of my kids. Me. I did that.  Now that I'm coming out of the comatose state caused by Chickadee's regression, and Mr. Survival being in mourning over his dad.  Now that I'm discovering I'm still alive. Again. I'm okay...

So. I'm staring at a new blank blog post. I've been distracting myself with my Google Reader. Or cleaning up after miss THANG being sick. Or distracting Chickadee so she won't barf. And, washing blankets, towels, washcloths, bowls, cups, and all the dishes Mr. Survival cooks breakfast with. In essence, I've cleaned everything in my home. Almost. Except I was sick on Saturday and Sunday. So I've just sort of kicked the dirties along with my foot. Or waited until there were enough dishes and a long enough stretch between sickies to dash them back to the sink. Now, one long yakky chat with my friend Traci later, and the sink is empty, miss THANG is chipper, and Chickadee kept down every feeding today. I feel like I accomplished quite a bit. I'm a little dissatisfied with how compartmentalized my life is though. Because I know that in the fitness arena since sick, I suck. I think this is why I've been having a harder time posting. I'v...

Because the unsuspecting public must be warned: TODAY'S POST

I've been working hard. Can't you see? My friend, Josie of YumYucky  let me know that raking leaves can burn around 400 calories an hour. Hooray! I've been spending a LOT of time raking.  Lots.  It makes up for all the time being a stock still statue venting out Chickadee's burps. My back. My aching back. D'you know whom I thought of while raking? Yup. Abs tight, back strong. I might die.

Hello, wonderful people! I'm feeling better.  Not the kind of crazy better that my friends conscious of the bipolar swing would worry about.  No.  I'm feeling better.  As in I missed my exercise yesterday, and I'm okay with it better. As in, I desperately wanted to my blog needed updating and my internet wasn't working.  I was okay with it.  No freaking? It's epic.  I eventually cleaned up the house, and I've had two showers in two days. Chickadee now has an assigned parent every night.  Mr. Survival and I are dragging our knuckles every other day, but at least it's not us tag teaming and being out of commission every day.  I feel better about that too. And?  My house is still gorgeous, beautiful, and peaceful.  Even though it is becoming clear it is more demanding.  Somehow, I don't mind.  Hopefully this will continue indefinitely. Finally, in this random list of tangents, Chickadee is able to vent without my ...

"Go ahead JBS. You've failed.  Take a break." I think that must be my internal dialogue.  Do you know what happened today?  I got my treadmill walk in.   An hour and four miles later, I was ready to fail some more. Nothing was good enough, and I did more today than I've been able to do in weeks.  At least housekeeping wise.  I did laundry ALL DAY LONG.  Chickadee kept throwing up, and was unhappy.  I needed to be giving her direct eye contact and playing games with her to be happy. Hence the state of my body odor. Furthering my inability to read my buddies' blogs, and get some inspiration. So, my monologue said I failed Chickadee, the laundry, myself, and the entire universe.  When I give myself permission to lighten up because I can't handle situations, I guess I feel the need to step things up.  Actually, I'm going to own that.  I don't take breaks well, I have to exceed my own expectations. I have a stress headache t...

I get most depressed during the stagnant times.  When it's between the times that I can do anything.  Or fix anything, or declare something a failure and move on. I thrive when there is a bullet list keeping me so busy that I can't think. Actually, thrive is the wrong word.  I operate smoothest.  Because there is no time to process any of the emotional gunk, and it gets thrown off to the side to be dealt with later. Like the last box that I packed that is full of pens that don't work, clothes hangers, a few batteries, and the missing socks I've been looking for all three years I lived at the last place.  I can't unpack it until the very end, when I find the garbage bags. That is how I've been operating to get through all this. That and sugar.  I am not joking when I say that I've been supplementing my meds with sugar.  Not joking at all. The thing is, I'm not sure I can do it without the sugar. I don't want to gain weight.  I don't...

I've learned a lot about doctors. Chickadee's primary care doctor didn't believe me for 10 months that anything was wrong. She taught me that I just might be right.  Even after the expert has told me I'm wrong many times. The neurologist, our first specialist, taught me that it takes 3-6 months to be seen by a specialist.  And I don't even know if I'll get any answers. The pulmonary doctor taught me that dire predictions don't always come true. Chickadee outlasted her need for a g-tube by 18 months. The developmental pediatrician taught me the importance of primary care.  Even though the former may prescribe, it is the latter that must call it in.  She also taught me that though things may not make sense, I must abide by the system or get run over by it. Gastroenterology taught us that the medicine we need may not be what we want or expect. Today I'm trying to use all of this knowledge. Really really hard. Chickadee and I went to this stu...

If the idea of my Chickadee's feeding tube makes your stomach turn, you don't want to keep reading. Feel free to skip out, and come back another day! To the far left is a picture of the tubes that I use for Chickadee now. The larger ends go into a large syringe. Which is the next picture. It looks like this: And also this: We're still working out our nerves.  But, it's working well.  Her surgical site is healing, and has passed four doctor's health tests.  She doesn't flinch when I pick her up anymore, and hasn't needed any pain medicine for over a week. I honestly never should have taken her on that camping trip last weekend.  I feel badly about it.  We came home early.  She tolerated it, but she would have been much more comfortable at home.   What makes it all worth it, is the first thing that made her giggle after surgery.  It was our second day.  They showed me how to vent her through the tube.  It's like bu...

So.  I've survived the following: packing up moving out 'camping' for a month in my old house fearing my new house would be HUD worthy finding a new house moving INTO the new house m-in-law arriving Chickadee's surgery sleeping in a hospital driving a long time more moving into the new house unpacked unpacked times 10 miss THANG got baptized went camping for real with 20 out of state relatives came home early unpacked unpacked unpacked more doctor's visit last load of crap unloaded And now? Now I'm trying to reconnect with my kids.  Snuggling with Chickadee, doing homework with Beansprout and miss THANG.  I need to do better taking my crazy pills. Mr. Survival put together my treadmill this morning.   I love that man. My beautiful new house is finally mine . It's peace.

Things are smoothing out, but still pretty bumpy.  I'm so excited to get back to my regular schedule . . . for now, I thought we could discuss something that has been percolating. We are so attached to our food habits I find that for the majority of people, food is not merely fuel.  It is cultural, emotional, traditional, and personal.  When someone attacks, or merely suggests that my religious heritage, or my family traditions are bogus, it makes me cling to them more tightly.  It makes me defensive. I find that the end result is also negative.  I tend to feel shame.  Whether I give up a habit, or cling to it, I am ashamed of it when people point out it's faults.  I hide it, or I shun it. How do we help ourselves and others not to feel this way about healthy food? Is food more than fuel, and could it be more while still being healthy?