Tonsil Tale

If you didn't know, I had Lovely and LB's tonsils out last Friday.  Lots of memories have been flooding back.

I remember Kip getting her tonsils out, and I don't remember anything untoward happening.  Nothing that sticks out in my mind, except Cream of Wheat and popsicles.  Lots of popsicles. 

I had my tonsils out when I was 18.  That's freakishly old to have tonsils removed.  That was the beginning of my 40 pound weight loss.  I had tonsils, barely healed from that, and then my wisdom teeth, in short order.  It was a glorious summer for me. 

The only thing I remember about my tonsils was 1) my tongue felt like it had been taken out of my mouth and nailed to the table beside me, and then released from the nail and rolled back in my mouth. I tawt lit dis.  (I talked like this).  Except with a lot of spit rolled into it.  All very exceptional. 2)  I remember a lot of Popsicles as well. 

But the number one thing I remember most when I got my tonsils out, was the very day I got home and was still "Tawting lit dis", my mom had taken off work and was hanging out with me, and she was in the back yard puttering in the garden.  I was lounging on the sofa, just minding my own business, when she came running in the house, yelling,  "CALL THE POLICE!  CALL THE POLICE!!!  THE WILLIAMSONS ARE GETTING ROBBED!"    I was like,   "WALL?"  (What?) and she said,  "Where are your keys (to my 76 Dodge Dart 3 speed)?  I'm going after them!!!" and she grabs my keys and out the door she runs. 

OK.   I'm in a pickle here.   Clearly, in her panic to become Deputy Dog,  she has forgotten that I have the speaking skills of a squash.  And also, that she is now chasing criminals in my Car. 

I take a deep breath and call 9-1-1. 

"9-1-1, what is your emergency"

"MY MOB ISH UN MA CAH SHASHING RAHBUHS"

Excuse me, ma'am??

"MY MOB ISH UN MA CAH SHASING RAHBUHS"

Is this a joke??

"NUUUUUUU!!!!  PLEASH!!  I UM NUT KUTTING  (I'm not kidding), UH JUSH GUT MAH TUNSHILS UT UN MA TUNGHH ISH WARY SCHWOLLLN"

"Ma'am, this is 9-1-1 and we don' like Prank phone calls."

(Now I'm rolling my eyes to the ceiling, knowing my mom is being killed by robbers after chasing them down in my 3 speed)

PLEASH!!  EEUU HAB TO BELIEB MUH!!!  MUH MOB ISH CHASHING ROBBERSH!  UN MUH CAH!  PLEASH!!!!

Ok, we are dispatching a unit. 

THANK THE LORD.

I didn't realize they were coming to the house to arrest me for drunk and disorderly conduct.  7 minutes later, there are 2 policemen at my door and when I threw the door open, I started telling them what the problem was and that my MOM WAS CHASING ROBBERS IN MY 3 speed and they needed to go find her.....she drove up. 

With a kid's bicycle hanging out the back of the car, and a kid, panting hysterically, being hauled out of the car by one arm.  (I've been hauled that way before, and I can assure you, you know your butt is HISTORY when my mom has your arm).

SHHEEE???  I stutter to the officers. 

My bad ass Mom, hauls this yelling 12 year old up to the officer, hands him over and says,  "I only caught one, the other one got away".

Now, picture this with me, if you will. 

My mom, who is in a hair net and shorts (Because she is out working in the garden and can't let her weekly shellac'd hair, get out of place), is driving my little 3 speed like a bat out of you know where and has chased these little pipsqueaks, (Who had robbed 12 houses in our neighborhood) until they split and I guess, to this day, I'm not sure how she got her hands on that one, except to run him down with her car, or catch him on foot, because when ticked off, that woman could run.  (This I know from experience, as well)

Ended up getting back most of the stuff from the little thieves and my mom was a celebrity at all the Neighborhood watch parties for several years. 

I didn't get arrested for prank phone calls, either.  Nor did I get a medal for best accesory in a pinch. 

But my mama, she is one mean hombre.  Don't be breaking into our houses if you know what's good for ya. 

Spiders and Snakes

I loathe snakes.  There isn't anything about a snake that I like.  I mean I carry that loathing over to worms, which isn't fair to worms, because they really aren't snakes, but anything that is round and slithers on the ground without legs, is close enough to a snake that it wigs me out.

Spiders are another thing.  I've been a single mom most of my adult life, and spiders are an essential part of being in charge of your house.  That, and heavy lifting.

So I've never met a spider that has freaked me too bad.  Lacey & I had a near incident once in the garage, but today.

Well, Today, was the day.

I had dropped the lovelies at daycare, and was rushing back to get Hallie to get her to beach volleyball, and we are on a TIGHT TIGHT schedule in the morning.

Hallie knows the routine, I honk, she comes.

I honked.

Nothing.

Honked again.

Nothing.

My cell rings.  It's Hallie.  Whispering.  "Mom, you need to come in here"

My heart almost falls out of my chest.

As I rush in, I find my 6'1" 14 year old standing in the middle of her bed, pointing to the floor.

Whispering,  "LOOK"

As God as my witness, the first thing that went through my head was,  "We have to move".  Just take what we can grab as we are running out the door, and buy all new stuff later.

It was like a small baby.  with legs.  on the floor.  just staring at me.

Like,  "What.you.looking.at"?

The urge to jump on that bed with my quivering daughter overwhelmed.

I ran to the kitchen for the flyswatter.  I needed a good foot between me and that spider if I was going to battle.

No flyswatter.  BB uses it as a sword and who knows where it is??

I race back to my whimpering baby on the bed, and the spider was still sitting there just waiting.

I grabbed her size 13 shoe, deciding it was better than a flyswatter and prepared my shaking hands for battle.

I knew I'd have one swing, and I had to get it, because Hallie had LEFT HER CLOSET DOOR OPEN.  And if anyone has a 14 year old teenager, you know the closet is the ABYSS of the room.

I swung.  Spider laughed at me, and ran into the abyss.

Screaming ensued.  Hallie finally told me to get a hold of myself and find that spider, that she could not live in this room if she knew it was here.

I started tossing things out of the closet.  This was no easy task.  At least we found some things we have lost for a year in that search.

Everything is shook (far from body, so in case the terminator is in there, it won't fall on my arm) and tossed behind me.

I'm starting to sweat.

Yes, I'm dressed for work, in a dress.

On I trudge, until I've cleared the closet and back in the corner sits the interloper.  Just waiting.  And smiling.

Now I'm pissed.

No spider is going to smile at me while I am sweating in a dress, running 15 minutes behind schedule now.

I go to the garage and find something to render it unconscious.  Anything.  Spray paint.  Ant Spray.  I setttle on hornet spray, because I loathe hornets and it shoots a 6 foot stream.  I'm there. 

Hallie hands me a flashlight which I tuck in my teeth, and I grab her size 13 in one hand, and my hornet spray in the other.  When I flash light on the villain, he rears back and shows me his teeth.  (Ok, I made that up)

I shoot him with 12 oz of hornet spray, nearly asphyxiating Hallie and myself in the process, and the spider looks like a snow pile has landed on him.  Then I swear on the bible, He shakes himself off and lurches himself at me.

Screaming ensues.  Even Hallie is screaming at this point, because I am screaming, and I think even the spider screamed.

Size 13 won.  As the drunken arachnid tried to find it's way out of the closet into clear air, I landed that big ole shoe on it's big ole gross spider head and sent it on to spider heaven.  I wrapped it in a paper towel and flushed it, just in case it ever thought of coming back to life.

As we looked around the room, in the pile of CRAP that I had tossed behind me in my frantic, panicked search....Hallie said to me,

"All that for a little ole spider"??

I know why some species eat their young.

Mean girls

I just spent an entire day sweating my proverbial tata's off at Hallie's beach volleyball tournament in Galveston.  It was glorious this morning (at 7 am), then by 10, it wasn't so glorious anymore.  I used one million SPF sunscreen, so I think we escaped serious damage.

All I know, after this past week, is how I have been reminded how MEAN girls are.

I mean, for REALS.

I remember it started when Lacey started middle school.  We went to Edmond schools for a minute, and as a single mom, we wore Skechers, instead of Doc Martins, and she came home from school in tears the first day because the girls made fun of her clothes.

Once we moved to Midwest City, she found some friends that didn't own Doc Martins either (though by this time, I had scraped enough to get some for her).  So it didn't really rear it's ugly head until she made pom her sophomore year.

She came home crying almost every day.  The older girls (except for one) were just horrendous to her.  I have never seen a kid practice double turns and toe touches more than my Lacey.

It is just a heart breaker for a parent.

You try to FIX everything for your kid and make it smooth, and sometimes, you just can't.

I was lucky with Kip.  She walked to the beat of a different drummer, and very little affected her calm zen self.  She wore what she wanted, did what she wanted, and it mattered NOT to her what anyone else did.  Made life fairly easy.

Now we have Hallie.  She started out 9 lbs 9 oz, so I should have had a clue she was going to be a special mess.  In kindergarten, I went to a parent teacher conference and there was one adult desk in the room, along with the teachers, and all the other little bitty desks, and the teacher sheepishly explained to me, that Hallie just didn't "Fit" in the little desks.

She's always been a tall chick.  She has had to embrace that fact.  Volleyball has helped because it's intensely fantastic to be a good volleyball player and TALL.  So that has helped.

Mean girls exist almost everywhere.  I don't know if Mean Little Girls grow up to be Mean Moms, and begat Mean Girl Children, but there are a plethora of Mean Girls out there.

I overheard an 18 year old team of girls, just dissing the crap out of another team, and I just shook my head.  I mean, I understand competition, and the need to be the best.  That runs rampant in our family.  But, taking it to a mean level and cutting down another person to make yourself better???  Gets all over me!

I try to tell my very tall, very self consciously aware of her tallness child, that most of the bitterness out of other girls mouths come from jealousy. (sometimes I'm totally jealous of her) Still, It matters not.  It cuts this gentle giant's heart, and it makes me intensely sad that I can't protect her more.

Even on the JV team, that she worked her BUTT to get off on, you'd think those girls would be THRILLED to have a tall middle, that knocks the bejeebers out of a ball, but NO, they would rather say tacky, horrible crap and shake her self confidence.  I just do NOT get it. I have told her that once they start playing games, those terrible upperclassman will be happy that the FRESHMAN won the game with her wicked slams.  It almost helps. 

Can't we grow up a generation of children that are kind?  It just wears me out.  I'm sorry, I had to vent.

I love my kids.  I love other people's kids.  Just say NO to meanness. 

All about loving a baby......

This day kicked my booty.   Even with the constant flow of love on Facebook, and my cellphone, and my email, I still missed Little Miss with a deep, constant pain.

You would think with time that it would get easier, but it doesn't work like that.   You will be rolling along and think, "OK!!! I am over the hump", then something small, like finding one of her toys, or a picture smiling at me on my phone, or unearthing one of her bags of blankets during the garage sale, and watching someone leave with her personalized towel (that she never got to use because it was WAY too big for her).  But still.....it was hers.

Just hard.

It has become increasingly evident to me, over the last few days, that God is abundantly faithful.  Though I wanted Laynie to heal and live, she served her purpose here on earth.  Our friend, Trent Austin, summed it up so perfectly at her celebration of life, "Laynie impacted more lives in her short time on earth, than some of the 70 year olds in the room". 

It's true.  We all are different.  One thing that I know for sure, is I could have never bore the pain of losing her, without Jesus Christ at the helm of my life.  He delivered me and my family through an insanely hard time.  God didn't cause it, God didn't stop it, God just carried us.  Because He didn't say, "Oh life is going to be a big ole bowl of cherries and ANYTHING you WANT you just let me know". 

He says, "Life is going to be troubled, and if you seek me and trust me, I will carry you through it"  and that...my friends....is the joy I feel in the sadness.

Now that some time has passed, God is revealing "The Bigger Picture" and it's more than any of us ever dreamed.

If Laynie taught me anything, it's LIVE IN THE MOMENT and Trust that whatever crisis you are in at the moment...it will pass, and God will get you through it, and make you a stronger and better person.

I have a bunch of Laynie pictures to share, and I will Do that soon.....because wow, we have friends that rock my socks off.  And Lacey's socks off....

And I know a tiny angel in heaven smiling down on all this stuff and running...and running...and running.

God is good, all the time.

Time to WEAR YOUR PURPLE

As most of you know, we have been wearing PURPLE to honor our Layniebug for the last few years on her angel wings day.  

It helps our family get through the day, the constant show of support with pictures posting on facebook, email and cell phones.  About the time we start feeling overwhelmed and sad, another purple picture shows up with sweet sweet words, and the pain ebbs.

I found myself in tears several times yesterday in church.  When Dameon sang "Our God", it put me back exactly 3 years ago to the day, when I crawled in my car, hating leaving the baby for a second, to go run an appointment in Harrah.

I was in an anguished state that week.  Disbelieving that our time was nearing an end, and in a near manic state believing that God would heal her.  This song was relatively new at that time, and when it came on as I was blindly making my way to my destination, I just cried and sang with it, lifting my hands in the air, in my car, and surrendering to God's promise that HE truly knows our path.

Friends, there are no words to describe the pain.  It has been three years and there are still days that I just want to curl up and cry all day.  Watching her mommy heal, and be the incredible stronghold that Lacey is for so many families, gives me comfort that through the pain, there was so much gain.   

And in the pain, there was the HOPE that God carried us through all of that.  In His loving arms we stayed, and we came out of that journey stronger, better Christians.

I don't know what struggles you are facing today, but you have to know that God is faithful.  I've said this before and I'll say it a million times, God isn't the Good Ship Lollipop.   What He is, is a calm place in a tragic storm tossed world.  You just have to trust in Him, and look to Him, and He will carry you through it.

I am so thankful for the time we had with this little precious bald headed gift.  What we presumed would be hours, turned into months, and we were granted almost 30 of those precious months.  

It made us better people.  We suffered a grievous loss, but we gained eternal hope.

  

Celebrate her life with us, by wearing your purple on Wednesday.  Share it with me, because I betcha I'll be sharing it with all of you.

People, God is Good.  Through sadness and heartache, through triumphs and joy...he is Faithful, and HE IS GOOD.

 This was taken on her 29th month birthday on June 16. We had no idea we would be saying goodbye in 3 short weeks.  Love each other fiercely, and never take a second for granted. 

Full Disclosure

I always process better if I do it in blog form, so I am going for it. 

I'm nervous tonight. 

I have had numb tingly arms for a while now.  At first, it was determined I was low B12 and usually a shot of B12 would fix me right up.  It started a year ago, right before we went to Haiti.

But about a month ago, my arms and hands started going numb every day.  Plus the top of my feet hurt so bad that it has become pretty un-fun to walk. 

I chalked it up to old age.

Still went to the doc, and she scratched her head and sent me to the neurologist. 

He broke a tongue depressor in two, and used the sharp edge to poke me in the cheek.  I wasn't really impressed with him, because that hurt like crazy and then he started that pokey crap down my arm, and all the sudden I only felt pressure instead of pain....then nothing.  No feeling in my fingers.  He told me to quit sitting with any pressure on my elbows, and to sleep with my arms straight, instead of wadded up under my head. 

He also sent me over for blood tests and I believe that no news is good news, and after two weeks, when I hadn't heard anything, I'm thinking, well, cool,  I'm just getting old...especially after seeing my reg doc on Wednesday, she didn't say anything and she asked about some test he is going to run on me when he gets back from vacay (some shocky thing that tests my nerve endings  or such, three letters I can't remember).

Then Friday I got a call, telling me to give the office a call and I missed them.  I can't get the last lab result to open (that they email you) because I can't remember my password.(story of my life)  Lacey is convinced that if it were a big deal, they would have called back, so I'm going with that. 

But I know Something is Up.  I feel like nothing I've ever felt before.  I can't walk without limping and my arms are getting more numb by the day. 

But, Here's the deal.  God knows what's up. And He has my plan. And I am not going to fear the unknown.

So, if you will spend some time in prayer for me, I know I would appreciate them. 

Right now, I'm going to focus on working as hard as I can this week to make enough money to get to California and see my Kip.  I'm going to focus on Hallie and make sure that she knows how incredible she is.  I'm going to revel in Lacey's new love, and feel nothing but pleasure that she is so happy and thrilled that God got it SO right in her life.  I'm going to enjoy my Vietnamese trio that  tells me, "Lolly, I happy". 

Because really, that's all that matters.  No matter what is up, I happy.