Alternate Reality

I feel a bit like I've time-traveled into a sort of alternate reality. It's still me and my family and it resembles my life, but it's not anything like I ever expected my life to be. I know, y'all (the couple of you who are still around) want to know what the heck has Jen been whining about for so long? So, in a nutshell, here is the synopsis of my new alternate reality.

We had been happily living in Michigan for a couple of years when my husband suffered a minor injury to his foot during summer camp last year. That minor injury gradually became more and more problematic through the end of the year until by January, it was becoming unbearable. By February he was unable to work and went on unpaid medical leave. The diagnosis in a nutshell is a nerve disorder where the nerves misfire and cause extreme pain subsequent to an injury that is very disproportionate to the original injury and doesn't disappear when the injury heals. Essentially the nerves in his foot are telling his brain that his foot is in severe trauma and the brain in return tries to save the body at the expense of the foot by shutting down circulation, etc. to that foot. It's weird, I know. The doctors still don't quite understand it. Matt had this condition when he was 15 and was able, through intensive physical therapy, to beat it into remission where it has stayed until now. Now it has returned with a vengeance.

So, in February we began searching for intensive treatment programs for this type of condition. We found a few of them--in Texas. It just so happens that my employer is headquartered in Houston as well and it doesn't hurt that housing is very affordable in Texas and the recession hasn't hit as hard there either.

With Matt's income instantly gone and his condition deteriorating we began much prayer and research and discussion with my employer. The end result was a decision to resign Matt's position, move to Houston as quickly as possible, allowing me to go full time with my employer, purchase a home on my income, and start the process to get Matt into a treatment program. Being here offers us a wide array of medical options, affordable housing, and a broad range of possibilities when Matt is ready to re-enter the work force. It's all happened fast--very fast. Unfortunately, this also all means that Matt has had to leave a job he loves, but given the unknowns of his long term health and the physically demanding nature of his job, there was little else we could do.

Not only has life been turned up on it's end in many ways, there is the extreme climate change. We went from freezing rain, snow, wind, and chipping ice off the car, to 85 degrees all week our first week here. It's just weird. It feels like we've gone straight from dead of winter to late summer (I know, late summer here is a completely different unbearable beast . . . all in good time). The boys are enjoying biking around in shorts and T-shirts in the warm weather.

So here is the status update in short form:

1) We purchased a home and moved to Texas 10 days ago.
2) I am now working full time and Matt is doing his best to be a stay-at-home dad within his health restraints.
3) We are hoping to get Matt started in a program within a few weeks (they keep wanting to put him through more tests, which drags the whole thing out--just put him in the program already!)
4) The boys are adjusting as well as can be expected--Ethan is getting to know his new school and Elliot is now in a full-day preschool program which should be a good prep for Kindergarten next year.

That's it! Yes, we're okay--sorry if I've sounded so gloomy, it's just been a difficult patch here, which isn't quite over yet, but at least we're in a good place and trying to find a new normal to settle in to.

No, this blog post isn't that entertaining, but at least it's informative. I'll work on posting more regularly, but my free time has been significantly reduced of late.

Thank you for all your well wishes and prayers. Please keep them coming as we're still trying to sort out Matt's health.

Oh, and we're thrilled with our new home. Check out my kitchen island (great for making fresh pasta, hosting parties--for which we will need friends, and doing all sorts of other exciting things).


I won't post a pic of me using the jetted soaking tub in my master bathroom, but it's a pretty fantastic element of the new house too. So, if you're in Texas in the near future, give me a holler, or a howdy as the case may be.

Trust and Release

Sometimes you just gotta trust that all things will work out for your good . . . then you've got to let go and let God take over. I'm trying to hand over the reins. I'll be back to this blog soon enough with details. I promise. I'm still here, just in over my head and trying to relax so God can float me back to the top and I can just breathe. I just happened into a blog that said "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." I better get out my dancing shoes because this storm is far from over.

Scale

Once again, I've allowed distractions to well, distract me from my blog. I have noted that this is my happy place, so I guess you could assume that when I am away, it is because I have not been very happy. You could be right. Perhaps we have been struggling to find footing in the challenges recently thrown our way. (You know you've hit the big time when your family is apparently on the docket at Ward Council). Then again perhaps I have been away solely because I've been so distracted by all the great fun and exciting adventures we've been embarking on lately. You'll just have to keep wondering because I am not a whiner . . . Quit sniggering.

On a completely unrelated note, if you've spent any time at the hospital in the past few years, you may be familiar with the pain scale. You know, "What is your pain right now on a scale of one to ten, one being you're sitting in a hammock on a breezy summer day and ten being your hammock has just been invaded by fire ants?" Sometimes children pick up on the tensions and troubles of their parents, regardless of how much parents try to insulate them. Their innate perception then manifests itself in unexpected and often humorous ways. Just yesterday after Elliot bit his big brother's arm, for which he promptly received the resultant swat on the face, both were seeking comfort from me when Ethan says "my arm is between a 5 and a 6 right now" to which Elliot responded "my cheek is between a 14 and 15". I just had to laugh a little. Maybe I'll find that happy place again, though right now I'd give it about a 6 or a 7.

Hair

I got a haircut today. It's cute, but I'm sure you've heard the phrase "lipstick on a pig"? I mean really, can you cut my hair to minimize my butt? The hair on my head of course.

I'm serious. The hair cut is really cute. But it does little to nothing to disguise the fact that I am fat. Which is okay, but let's not pretend otherwise.

You know the whole bruhaha about the body scanners? Why in the world are we so concerned about people seeing us naked? Really, does my clothing somehow miraculously disguise the fact that I'm fat? Is someone on the other side of the scanner going to go "Wow! Check this out! This lady is FAT!!" Thank you captain obvious. Perhaps it's the opposite concern--the concern that one is just soooo attractive naked that all the agents on the other side of the monitor are going to be sitting back goin' bow-chicka-chick-bow-bow! Really folks, we have some serious body issues in this country . . . don't get me started on "anti-aging", surgical enhancement, or basic body-hair-a-phobia. Why exactly do we all hate ourselves so much?

I can't wait for my 20 year high school reunion this summer. 'Course, just go to Facebook to see who's had some serious work done. Sooooo not natural.

Does this haircut make me look fat?

Overheard

I was driving yesterday, in my own world, when I caught the end of the following conversation in the back seat:

. . .machine guns are used primarily for military activities, not hunting.

Unless you get a stampede of a hundred deers.

Yes, but you would probably run out of bullets.

But don't machine guns have lots of bullets?

Yeah, but they come on a string that is in a box on your belt and there probably aren't a hundred on a string and so you'd have to stop and reload if there were a hundred deers.

Is this a result of the extreme hunting culture in this state? Or simple boy biology? I'm voting for the latter. I later took the boys to spend their Christmas cash from Grandma . . . toy guns. I've never seen them so excited about a toy. I've thrown in the towel. The boy DNA is stronger than I am.

Of Rings and Men

I've never claimed to be a normal female. Just ask my husband. Case in point--jewelry. I just don't get it. Sure, it's pretty and fun, but seriously, how much value does one put in to pretty and fun over practical and useful? When we were discussing engagement rings, I tried to convince my husband to buy me a $12 silver band, or say $20 even. His response? I am NOT going to just spend $12 on an engagement ring! So I compromised with a few stipulations. First and most importantly, we were under no circumstances going to start off a marriage in debt because of a piece of jewelry. He makes fun of all my other stipulations because it made engagement ring shopping a nightmare--here are a few highlights of the short list: He must pick it out, but it was not to be a solitaire, preferably no stones at all, if there was a stone it must be very small and inset--nothing is to stick up off the ring, no "wedding sets", no yellow gold . . . Really, was I being unreasonable? Don't answer that.

So, he did a nice job. He picked out a classy, simple ring in white gold with (grimace) a small diamond inset. I'm sure he paid under $300, and did not go into debt. It was a compromise we could all live with. We got matching wedding bands and since the wedding I've worn my engagement ring on my right hand, until about two years ago when I broke it.

We talked about repair, or replacement, but, and here' s the thing--I am no longer the hopeless romantic I once was (quit sniggering). I still hold to all my previous conditions in a ring, but if I were to get another one, I'd kind of like to pick the style (I know, where has the romance gone?). That said, it was likely never to happen because every time we'd peruse rings, I'd think of all the other practical things that money would buy, and we'd walk away.

Then, this Christmas, my husband wanted to surprise me, yet aware of the absence of the once hopeless romantic, he figured I ought to be in on picking it out this time. Good idea--in theory. I sat down to do some perusing and began complaining about the cost. I'd list all the things we could buy instead. I talked him down to cubic zirconia, but he drew the line when I started talking about sterling silver (what's wrong with sterling? I found practically the same ring available in cz and silver for $25). Finally, he cropped a few picks and made me look at them without being able to see the prices and pick my favorite. We got in numerous arguments about how I don't value myself (my response being that I value myself plenty--like I value myself a few hundred dollars worth of a good quality, useful mixer, but I just couldn't see the value of spending a lot on shiny things that don't do anything but shine and that I'm bound to damage or lose anyway). Then it got personal; Why can't you just accept the gift graciously! It's a token of my love! followed by I'll wear it, I'll even like it, but I can't help wondering what else we could have used that money for! and threats to spend the birthday cash my parents sent me to pay for the ring, followed by dirty looks.

So, in the end, he bought me the ring. Pretty huh?

It came today and I got an early Christmas present. He compromised (story of our marriage) and got the cz set in white gold. It is lovely and I can't stop looking at it (look, something shiny!) and I'm trying not to think about the other things we could have bought. Instead I'm thinking about my sweet husband who thinks about me. Happy 10 years to us! (and all our neurosis!)

No Joke

It's my birthday. Yay! I love birthdays. We've celebrated all weekend long. My husband made the most chocolatey super double dark chocolate cake ever. Yum. We had friends over for games and food yesterday. The kids (6 boys, 1 girl) ate and played and told jokes. The joke of the day in our household?

What is black, white, black, white, black, white, green?

3 Skunks fighting over a pickle!

HAAAA!

If you're Ethan, you then need to overanalyze the joke and try and figure out where the skunks got a pickle.

For my birthday I received some delightful phone calls and much unexpected facebook love. It all made me smile. I was chastised however for not posting often enough on this here blog. My excuse? Surgery. Not mine, but my husband's hand surgery. It's been a bit rough and who really wants to read me blogging about surgery and playing physical therapy chauffeur (excuse me, occupational therapy)? Or about feeling sorry for myself because I get to play nursemaid and keep up with my job and my mothering/household duties and the like. Like self-pity is funny.

But then, sometimes, surgery and self-pity can be funny, no? So in honor of my birthday, the household joke and the one-armed man-of-the-house, I propose a toast of one-armed man jokes. Here goes:

#1: How do you get a one-armed man out of a tree?
Wave to him.

#2: A guy has one arm and decides he doesn't want to go on with life, not being able to do the things other guys can do with two arms. So, he goes up to the 20th story of a building and is trying to build up the nerve to jump. As he's standing there a guy comes walking on the sidewalk below.

The one-armed man notice's that this other guy has NO arms at all. He watches as the guy stops on the sidewalk and starts dancing and spinning in circles. The one-armed man thinks to himself how selfish he is... in that he has one arm and is ready to end it all! So, he decides to go down and talk to the No-armed man.

He goes down and walks up to the guy and says, "Hey man... I've been up on the 20th floor considering to end it all because I have only One arm... Here you are with No arms and are dancing around. What's your deal?

The guy with No arms says, "Arrrrr... dude I'm NOT happy! My nose itches!!!

#3: Why did the one-armed man cross the road?
To get to the second-hand shop!

#4: A one-armed man entered a restaurant at noon and seated himself next to a dapper little other-people's-business man. The latter at once noticed his neighbor's left sleeve hanging loose and kept eying it in a how-did-it-happen sort of a way. The one-armed man paid no attention to him but kept on eating with his one hand. Finally the inquisitive one could stand it no longer. He changed his position a little, cleared his throat, and said: "I beg pardon, sir, but I see you have lost an arm."

The one-armed man picked up his sleeve with his right hand and peered anxiously into it. "Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, looking up with great surprise. "I do believe you're right."

#5: Never buy a pit-bull from a one-armed man.

#6: What has four legs and one arm?
A doberman on a playground.

Thank you! I'll be here all week!