Hello There, Bolt of Lightning

The past few months have been a real struggle for me. I started having problems with vertigo in July and it seems to have just taken over my entire life. Most of the time I don't feel good and when the vertigo finally passes, I'm exhausted. I haven't canned, I haven't made pies, I haven't sewed, I haven't cleaned out cupboards, I haven't made Christmas cookies, I haven't done it seems like much of anything. I show up to events not really wanting to talk to people and just waiting for the moment that I can go home and lay down.

Last night my husband asked me how I can play solitaire on my phone for hours on end. I told him that I was pretty sure that I'm depressed. Why? Because I don't feel good and I don't do anything that helps me or anyone else. I basically feel like a big lump of blah.

I decided to take a shower and in the tub fell to my knees with the water hitting my back. I pleaded with God to send someone to help me. Help me break out of this funk, help me to FEEL something spiritual. I need some sort of connection to my Heavenly Father. I feel like I've been grasping at spiritual straws for months. It was on the bathtub floor that the thought occurred to me like a bolt of lightning. Girl, if you want help, you had better help yourself. No one can make you happy except for you. So get your butt up and do something for someone else.

I realized that for the past few months I have been completely focused on me. My prayers have been about my health and about my well being. What happened to the five people that I usually pray for and have in my mind to give service to? What happened to my prayers being about "please give me the opportunity to help someone in need, to touch someone's life"? I resolved then and there that if I wanted to feel better about myself that I needed to not focus so much on me.

This revelation doesn't make my illness go away. I'm not going to be the perfect housewife any time soon. I still have many doctors appointments in the near future to try and figure this out. But spiritually, this is what will heal my soul. This is what will give me back the connection I feel like I have been lacking.

And of course, God is always present. My prayer was answered swiftly. Today I went to visit a girl who is having some troubles in her life. I listened to her. And then a voice whispered in my ear. It told me what to say to comfort her. It was nothing I would have thought up on my own. I connected spiritually by helping another in need. It was so obvious, so blatantly an answer to my prayer. And such a quick, reassuring, and peaceful feeling that I am never alone.

I writing this because I feel like I may need to reread this a few times in the upcoming months.

Brittany, you are not alone and God is just waiting for you to take his hand. 

I'm Amazing

Typically I have a feeling of inadequacy. There are just so many areas in my life that I need to work on to become a better wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend, volunteer, etc, etc. This is a quick description of one area of my life I am now working one. 

One of the things I've sworn to better with lately is to not complain about this pregnancy. In my first two pregnancies I was sicker than sick and really at some points thought I was going to die. By the time I was pregnant with Ellis I was so sick of hearing myself complain that I was determined to not make a peep about anything I felt concerning the pregnancy. I feared someone might bury me if they had to live with me being such a whiner again.

 It turned out that I actually felt pretty awesome throughout the whole time Ellis was in my belly and really didn't end up even needing to complain about anything. However, the damage had already been done. I was labeled as being an absolute monster while pregnant. So now here is pregnancy number four I have already been enduring the whole, "uh oh, hope you survive" comments. But I am determined once again, not to complain. (About the pregnancy anyway. Vertigo is a whole other issue and I will complain as much as I want. It's horrible.) And besides talking about being tired, I think I've done a fairly good job, but it's not enough. I am determined to not puke. (If you have a weak stomach this would be a good time to stop reading.) With my two boys I threw up so much that I deteriorated the lining in my stomach and esophagus. I know that I got sick with Ellis, but it was nothing like the boys. Totally livable. I'd drive down the street, pull over, puke. No biggie.

So of course, one of the only side effects I've felt throughout this pregnancy has been a weak stomach. A messy sneeze from one of my little ones or really just a sniff from them will send my stomach roiling. But I'm not going to let it get to me! We all know that being a mom has to be one of the most disgusting jobs in the world. We see and clean up things that are hardly imaginable. That doesn't stop when we are pregnant. Today I was met with the real challenge. A clogged toilet.

I knew I had to unclog it. I knew I was the only one that could do it. I seem to have a magic touch (lucky me)with the plunger. I walked into the bathroom and the smell was overwhelming. To spare you the gory details, this is what I had to end up doing. Stand with my head turned and my face in a towel while I plunged. I could only use sound as an indicator to any progress being made. I tried looking twice and each time nearly ended my non puking streak. But I gained control each time, plunged away and soon heard the wonderful sound of water going down the drain!

I didn't whine and complain that I couldn't do it. I didn't puke. For this moment in time I didn't feel inadequate. I was super mom and I was awesome.

Babies, Pallygoats, and My Monkey Father

I'm horrible at keeping a journal and blogging. However, this must be written. When my children are grown and their childhoods run together in my mind, these are a few things I would like to remember.

The Babies

Rowan and Ellis have a nursery of baby dolls. Each and everyone has a name. They started as names of babies they already know. Baby Samuel, Baby Levi (these were friends we know), Baby JoJo (after my cousin's daughter Josephine), Baby Claire (one of their cousins). Then once they ran out of names they began with these interesting ones. Baby Little, Baby Applesauce, and Baby Edo. Each baby has it's own personality. For instance, for a while if Baby Levi had his binky out he would throw up. The only way to stop him was to put his binky back into his mouth. Baby Applesauce likes to help with chores and direct what needs to be picked up next.

The kids love to put the babies in the strollers and race them up and down the hallway and crash them at the end. The babies are continually abused, thrown into the air, hung from the fan, crashed into the walls. But at in the car or bed time the babies are loved and cuddled with unwavering affection. We can always tell when the babies are being played with. It's when the kids are the loudest. I love seeing both my daughter and my son use these toys for such great imaginative play. I'll be truly sad when they grow out of them.

Pallygoats

My children have their own language. They create words and use them as though they were a normal part of everyone's vocabulary. For instance, one day my children were talking to me about how they don't like pallygoats because they hurt their teeth. It took me weeks of continually hearing this word before I finally realized that pallygoats are popcorn kernels. I don't know where this word came from, but they have continued to use it for about the last 8 months. Too funny.

My Monkey Father

One day I found Ellis in her room laying on her bed looking at a book. It was one of those choose your own adventure books. On the cover was a picture of a yeti. As I walked in the room Ellis put the book down and looked up at me with a serious expression. Showing me the picture on the cover, she said, "This is my monkey father." "What??" I replied. She then proceeded to tell me about how before she lived with me she lived with her monkey father, but he had been killed and that's how she came to live with me.... Okay.

Now and then she will bring up her monkey father and talk about what a wonderful life she had before she was forced to come and live with us. Once on a kayak, she pointed up to a house on the edge of the lake, "That's where my monkey father lived."

It's absolutely hilarious how she creates these very real stories and continues to expand them as time goes on. I love hearing about monkey father!

Counting Lightning to Thunder

Yesterday we had a big Spring storm. We had a little girl over and when she heard the lightning she got scared. I brought her and Ellis into the kitchen and asked them if they wanted to see something really cool. I sat them on the kitchen counter with their feet in the sink so that they could see out the window. I said, "This is how nature works. The earth needs water and this is how it gets it." The sat there for about 45 mins eating M&M's and watching the rain and hail. I had them count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder so they could tell how far away the storm was. They had so much fun that they forgot to be scared! The storm came closer and closer and then finally further and further away. After the storm was over they talked about how fun it was to watch it all from the window. They are so sweet. I hope I always remember the picture I have in my head of those little ones watching out the window.