I should know better!

I should know better about so many things. One in particular, is not to point out to Martin that my cookie jars need another shelf so that I can display them all. I did mention this to Martin, before the heart trouble, and thought he would get around to it when he was out for Christmas break. He did wait until Christmas break, but when I asked him to make it, I didn't know he was going to have the heart difficulty. I didn't know at the time that he would go on and make the shelf anyway- he sneaked behind my back and worked in the garage, knowing he should not stress himself. So, this evening, he comes in and asks me to help him. That is not a good request at this time, I always think the worst when he asks for help. What does he want? He wants me to help him put the 14ft shelf up in the living room. He stands there beaming like a little boy, so proud of his accomplishment, and anxious to get the shelf up so that all the cookie jars can be displayed without being crowded. I blew my stack. I told him I could not seriously believe that he would go to so much work, (although the shelf is fabulous) knowing that he shouldn't be doing stuff like that. I told him I was calling Joe or David to come and put the shelf up, and to get himself in his chair! He stood there and actually told me that he didn't need their help, to get off my butt and come and help him. Understand, the shelf is going 7ft up on a wall. 7FT! 14ft of shelf, 7ft up on a wall! I calmly explained that I did not want to try to put the shelf up with only him there, PLEASE LET ME CALL SOMEONE TO HELP! I should have known better. I stomped my foot and argued with him, and when he tried to charm me by putting his arms around me,. I pushed away. The dog thought we were wrestling and he jumped in. Then the other dog jumped in, barking and jumping all over us. Soon, my perfectly lovely 44oz diet coke with the perfect sonic ice went flying from the side table as a dog knocked it over with it's whip-like tail. Can you imagine how much soda is contained in a 44oz styrofoam cup? Well, when it is on the floor, it looks more like a gallon. A gallon of soda, with perfect sonic ice patterned all over the floor, taunting me. To make matters worse, Martin then pointed out that if I had just gone in the living room and helped him in the first place, I would still have my soda, and the shelf would be up on the wall. By now, my resolve is gone. I'll just go and help him. When he brought in the mile long shelf, I just gaped. "How are we going to get this thing up there?!!!" I asked him. He said, "Easy. I'll get up on the ladder on one end, and you get up on the ladder on the other end, we'll lift it up, I'll screw it into place and then it is up. SERIOUSLY? He really meant it. He wanted me to get up on a LADDER, hold up a massive shelf, wait for him to screw it into the wall, and get off the ladder, still without falling and killing myself. I should have known better. I gave in. I took my end of the shelf, which by the way, was surprising lightweight for being such a long piece of wood, and climbed up on a 3 rung ladder. I am a chicken, so I only climbed up on the second rung, my knees shaking the whole time. All around me, on other shelves, in display cabinets, and curio cabinets, the cookie jars were cheering me on. Martin nimbly leapt up his ladder and told me to lift my end in place. I did. He put his end up, screwed some screws into it, jumped down, and came to my end. "Okay, get down" he said. What do you mean, get down? I am already up here, shelf end in hand, and holding it like he said. "Are you going to get down? We don't have all night!" he says. He reaches up with his long ape-arms, and holds the end in place while I climb down the two rungs that felt like maybe 20 rungs. Then, without missing a beat, he jumps up on the second rung, screws the shelf onto the wall and gets down. The shelf is up, he didn't even break a sweat, and now I look like an idiot, making a big deal over something that to him was nothing. Tremulously, I asked him if his arm was hurting, and he said, "just a little, no big deal". Well, it's a big deal to me! I could just see it, he could have had a huge heart attack while putting up the shelf, died from it, and the kids would blame me! Selfish Mama, making daddy put up a shelf for her stupid cookie jars, knowing that he can't do stuff like that. You would think she would know better! For the rest of my life, every time I looked at a cookie jar, I would have had to remember that I murdered my husband because I selfishly asked for a cookie jar shelf. But, as he tried to tell me in the first place, it was nothing, and would only take a minute. I tried to let him know that I knew what was best, but I should have known better. You know, I have the answer! From now on, I'll just hide his tools! Then, I won't have it to worry about in the first place.

Cookie jar stress relief

We have made it through another day. Martin took the boys to the movies, and while I worry when he is not with me that something will happen, I also appreciate the fact that he wants to be normal in every way. He did have an attack in the movies. He used his nitro-spray and it subsided. Now, you may think that all these attacks are serious. They are. But, I called the doctor again and was told that we cannot do anything until the artery heals up some. So, each day, I wait and hope that he will get through, and when he gets an attack of arm and shoulder pain, I hope the nitro-spray will calm things down. Gosh, I never thought that I would be experiencing something like this. I have even forgot to worry about the fact that his job is trying to terminate him because he is too sick from the lung damage that occurred on the job. I have forgotten to worry about his worker's comp claim, which we so need to cover his medical expenses from the lung damage. I don't think about him having so much trouble breathing or that his lung capacity is at 39% right now. All I think about is if the next attack is the big one. Again, the positive part of my mind assures me that he will make it until they can perform the "roto-blade" proceedure, where they actuall drill out the blockage. The negative part of me keeps whining about what happens if he doesn't make it that far. And then, there is sunny, happy, cheerful Little Joe. He, of course, is oblivious to any problems in this life. All he knows is that he is loved and cared for. He grins and giggles all the time. When I pick him up, he grasps me as hard as he can as if to show me that he is there and he loves me. His little eyes sparkle with good humor, and he squeals in joy when I talk to him. He is in my life to help me through this trial. How can I ever be despondent when I have such a bundle of joy to share my days? Today, Little Joe figured out how to spit his food out at me when I am feeding him. He thinks that is so funny, as the food flies and dribbles down his chin. I guess my kids did that when they were little, but I really don't remember it like this. He waits until I have a spoonful in his mouth, and goes, "brrrrr"with his lips. Good thing we didn't get to the sweetpotatoes today! Well, I'll work on it. It doesn't matter anyway, it just makes a memory that I can taunt him with when he is older!

My anti-stress trick is to get on Ebay and look at cookie jars. I am not buying them now, (well unless I just have to have that particular one), but I love to go down the list for the day and see what new ones have been listed. I used to sneak and do it, because I didn't want Martin to crab at me for looking at new cookie jars when I already have so many. My family doesn't mind pointing that out either, so, I would just make sure I was alone and enjoy myself when they were not looking. To my great surprise, one day, when Martin was at work, before the students came to class, he called me and asked me to look on Ebay for a particular cookie jar. I did, and it was one I had been wanting for some time. I asked him how he knew to look for one on Ebay, and he said he did it every day, hoping to find a cookie jar that I might like. After that, we would spend about a half hour each day, looking at cookie jars together. So, with the guilt layed aside, I can freely peruse the cookie jars at my leisure. In particular, when I am very anxious, I find solace in the cookie jar postings. I don't know why, I just do. Lately, I have been visiting the Ebay cookie jar site often. The ones that I want to add to my collection are very collectable and are very expensive, and I will not pay the price asked by the other collectors. Often, I find a very expensive cookie jar at a garage sale or thrift store for only a few dollars, and that is how I have purchased some of my most expensive cookie jars. Anyway, today, Little Joe sat on my lap while I looked on Ebay. He loved the colors and seemed to enjoy being there with me. Maybe he will be my cookie jar buddy. Eli is always on the look-out for cookie jars for me too. He loves to point them out at the thrift stores, and one time he found one for 5 dollars that cost over 80 dollars on ebay. For my birthday, mother's day or christmas, he always wants to know if I have seen a cookie jar that I would like to have. He tells me that he will earn the money for it. This Christmas, he and Jacob gave me a stage coach cookie jar that Sissy had to bid for at the school carnival. They were so excited when the won the bid, and the poor little things had to keep the secret for weeks. But, they did, and I was wonderfully surprised! I guess I am rambling on about my cookie jar passion, so that I can express how I decompress when things get too overwhelming. In addition to looking at them on Ebay, I go into my living room and dining room and admire the ones I already have. They are like friends to me. I guess it is silly, but I do love them. They bring happy memories to me, and to others who come and look at my collection. Everyone has a favorite, and tell me why. I just love them all, and all of those especially that were given to me because someone knew how much it would mean to me.

Shame on Me

Today, Martin had another attack. It was quite severe, and frightened him. It didn't frighten me, as he omitted letting me know until after the fact. He thinks he is protecting me by not informing me each time he gets an attack, but it only causes me anxiety. They are coming more often, and I just pray that he will make it until they can try to help him. We go on January 5th to see the cardiologist and find out when they will do the next proceedure. The plan is to go in through his femoral artery up into his heart and use what is called a roto-blade to drill the blockage clear. Sounds good to me. I try not to think past that point, as I want to come out of this with my honey doing well.

Life goes on even with difficulties. Isn't it funny how you think something won't happen and then it does? For instance, this afternoon, Little Joe was asleep in Sissy's car and she wanted to do some shopping. I told her that I would stay in the car with Little Joe, and to take her time. I closed my eyes and prayed for awhile, then listened to the radio. Little Joe was sound asleep, and then, after about 50 minutes, he awoke wanting his bottle. I got out of the front seat, and into the back seat, unhooked those baby seat harnesses from hell, and took Little Joe into my arms. Juggling him, I got his bottle ready and we sat back into the front seat so that he could contentedly slurp away. He drank the whole thing, burped and settled down on my shoulder. While I was patting his backside and talking to him, I thought that I hadn't seen a poopie diaper since yesterday. Being stuffed with Little Joe in the front seat of Sissy's SUV would be a terrible place for him to decide to unload, and just as I was thinking about this, sure enough, he filled his diaper. Okay, I thought I would just let him finish, and then take him to the back seat and change him. I gave him a good five minutes to do his business, and then to the back seat we went. I got out a new diaper, some wet wipes, and put his blanket down. After unsnapping his onesie, I untaped the diaper and PHEWWY! he had certainly done his business. Okay, I had this. Working efficiently, I removed the huge offering, and cleaned him with the wipes. As I was setting the mess to the side and picking up the new diaper, I heard a sound that nightmares are made of. With his little legs firmly in my hand and elevated, and before I could get the new diaper under him, he gave a mighty grunt and the gates of baby poo were opened. The new offering flowed from him in a mighty wave, and covered the blanket, the onsie, and part of Sissy's leather covered seat. I panicked. I had already put the wipes away, as I am so efficient you know, and with one hand had to hold his fat little legs up, along with his fat little behind so that he would not be poo covered. With the other hand, I had to paw through the diaper bag for the wipes. The tail of his onsie fell into the goo, and when he wiggled, flapped onto his back. This was getting out of hand! Using all of my mommy experience, I dropped the wipes, still holding legs and behind and folded his blanket over the mess. I quickly grabbed the wipes, and began to clean him. I soon had a pile of poopie wipes, 2 poopie diapers, a poopie onesie and a poopie blanket. Since the poo had gotten on his back, I had to wipe that off too, and then take all his little clothes off. Now, I have a naked baby in the back of an SUV parked in front of the store, juggling poo and trying to find clean clothes. By now, Little Joe had had enough, and began to let me know. I dumped the diaper bag out looking for a new outfit, making sure that I didn't dump it on the huge mess that seemed to grow bigger with each passing moment. Finally I had him diapered and clean, and had found a little fleece outfit to put on him. All I could think of was how Sissy was going to react when she saw the mess in the back seat of her car. I wanted to put Little Joe in the front seat to clean the back seat area, but the carrier was on the other side of the disaster, and I didn't want to just set him up in the front seat. Holding him in my left arm, I eventually was able to gather up the dirty items, wipe the seat and my hands and get everything back into the diaper bag. I used about half of the wipies just cleaning my hands. As I stood up from cleaning everything, Sissy finally came out of the store. She wondered why I was standing next to the car holding Little Joe instead of having him in his car seat. I just told her that he needed changing, and all was well. I put him in his car seat, buckled him up and gave him his binky. We drove home, talking of the usual stuff, and Sissy dropped me off at home. It wasn't until I got out that I saw the poopie blanket that was wrapped around the poopie diaper and onsie, and lying on the floor board. I am a stinker, because I just went in the house, and thought that she would figure it out when she got the baby out of the car. Shame on me. So, things go on as usual, no matter what the situation.

Limbo

I feel like I am in limbo. I pray and pray about Martin's situation, and even though I know that Heavenly Father is trying to answer me, I can't be mentally still to understand the message. What is he trying to tell me? How is he trying to prepare me? What am I supposed to do to learn from this time in my life? I learned a long time ago not to just say, "heal him". When Bobbie Jo was sick, I just assumed that since I did all I could to live righteously, then Heavenly Father would heal her. I surely had enough faith to make sure she would survive the ravening cancer- and I even had the audacity to tell Heavenly Father the right plan for her. I could not imagine her dying and leaving her son and husband. A loving Heavenly Father would not require that of me, right? Unfortunately, that trial was not about me. I got on my knees when I began to understand that she would not live, and asked (told) Heavenly Father to take me instead. I was so sincere, that I realized that I should have left Martin a note so that he would understand what happened when he found my lifeless body, and Bobbie Jo was miraculously cured. I had an epiphany that night- I clearly came to understand that I had no control over someone else's fate, even if she was my precious daughter. I learned that her trial was the cancer, and my trial was helping her through her trial and not losing my testimony and faith when the unimaginable outcome came to be.

So, I am trying to understand that this is not my trial either, simply that I am here to support, uphold and love Martin as he experiences this personal trial of illness and possible death. I do pray many times a day that he will be allowed to stay with me for awhile, but what I will pray for know is that he can understand what he is to learn and how he is to grow while enduring this personal trial. I have put my fear away, and taken out the curiousity needed to seek out the blessings and opportunities that have and will certainly continue to come into our lives.

At one time, I too, faced death. That has been 15 years ago, and although the pain and fear of knowing that I could possibly leave this earth and my family behind has dimmed and has almost been forgotten, I do remember the wonder and gratitude when I awoke and found that I was still here and eventually understood that I had many years left. The best thing I can do now, is to remember that experience. I walked through it, not knowing if I would live, and hoping that I had done enough in my life to not have wasted my earthly opportunity. I changed a great deal after surviving a terminal declaration- I am so much better, more loving and much wiser. Why would I deny that for Martin?

I pray each day, but now I pray that Martin will understand what he is to learn and what he is to do. I smile, rub his feet, cut his toenails, keep his clothes neat and fix his favorite meals. That may sound subservient, but I am happy to do it, as I always have been, especially knowing that I may not be able to do it for much longer. Every touch of our hands, each kiss, every deep gaze into his eyes, each time I wash his back, is so much more special, so precious to me. I hope that when this is over and he is still with me after a successful attempt to fix his heart, that I will continue to cherish each moment with him. Maybe that is what I am supposed to learn, to know how precious true love is, how eternal. Each day feels like limbo to me-my vision is so narrow. My life clock is set to that time when he will or will not survive this trial. I am walking through a dark, but not endless tunnel. The journey will end one of two ways- either I will lose him until we are reunited together in Heaven, or I will keep him and continue to live, love and e njoy him. I will find the end of the tunnel, and when do, I hope that whatever the outcome is, I will understand who I am, and what I need to do to continue my own personal journey in the best possible way: that way being the will of my Heavenly Father.

Christmas

Finally! Christmas has come. We are all so blessed with so many things, but most especially the love and happiness that Christmas brings to our little loved ones. We had the Christmas Eve party at Becky's as planned, and it was the most wonderful chaos! Dinner was the crab and shrimp, chicken tenders and fries with a plethora of fabulous desserts. Becky made some bars that were peanut butter cookie on the bottom, oreo cookies in the middle (whole oreos) and brownies on top. Good grief, sugar attack just thinking about them, but they were wonderful. Marie brought mini-cupcakes, red velvet, carrot, and chocolate. Nana-mee, who is Joe's mama, (her real name is Amelia) brought a double chocolate fudge cake, and there was also fudge, and an enormous cheesecake. Believe it or not, I nibbled so that I would not get burned out too fast.

We handed out gifts, to the children first, and of course the one that had the most fun was Little Joe, tearing paper and ignoring the contents of the boxes. Wonderful gifts were given, and I got TWO new cookie jars! I am thankful for Santa GPS as the children had the parents phones out and were tracking Santa and his route. They were anxious to get home and into bed so they would not miss him. The party disbanded with hugs and kisses and home we went. Sleep came easily for us as we were so tired, and soon, it was time to get up for church. Martin dressed in his suit and I wore a new red blouse, so we looked quite ready for Christmas service. As I got in the car, Martin handed me a little ring box, and in it was a gorgeous ruby ring. Martin surprises me every year with a piece of jewlery, he knows how much I love it. He starts early in the year, scouts the pawn shops, and puts something in lay-away. He knows how I love rubies, they mean so much to me because my birthday is in July, and we married in July.

I took a large bag of candy canes to church to give out to everyone, and on the label, the story of the Christmas Candy Cane was printed. The choir was so lovely, and the spirit was so strong, and I could not help but to sniffle the whole time. I was pretty wrapped up in the service, and did not notice that Martin was acting out of sorts. He got up to step out, and usually at Church this means that he has to go to the men's room. I am always happy for him to go to the men's room at church, because Martin thinks he can pass a stinker and no one will notice. Trouble is, since we are sitting together, people have to wonder if it was Martin or me who poluted the air. I am hoping that those who know me will realize that I would NEVER pass a stinker in church. I have been guilty of this in the store sometimes, but that is only because it sneaks out when I cough. In the 40 years of marriage we have been together, it has only been in the last two years, that I have convinced Martin that "no, it was not silent nor was it not smelly. PLEASE get up and go out if you have to pass a stinker" He has been good to comply, and so, I thought he was going out for just such that reason. Well, this time a stinker was not the culprit. Martin was having an attack of arm pain that came on quickly and was quite severe. When he got out into the foyer, he used his nitro-spray, and then had to use it again after 5 minutes. I was clueless, by Robby got up and went out with him, and sat there until the attack passed. I knew nothing about any of it. Martin told me after the service what had happened and I felt so bad that I did not help him with it. We went home to rest for awhile, and then we went to the other Martin's house with his family for Christmas dinner.

For those of you who don't know the other Martin, he is Bobbie Jo's husband. We have stayed close together since her death, and he is a wonderful son. I love him, and cherish him. Each Christmas day, we go to his mother's home to be with his family for a down-home Christmas dinner that is worth waiting a year to experience. Everyone makes us feel just like we were born into the family, and we love being with them. Martin makes sure that there is something there for me to eat each year, and since I cannot have meat, milk or eggs, that is a challenge sometimes. When Bobbie Jo was alive, she always made lots of stuff for me, and he is keeping the tradition going. This year, it was shark chili. That's right, shark chili. Guess what? It was GOOD! I can have seafood, and this was really something. The shark meat tasted like white meat chicken and the chili was really delicious. Rose, Martin's mother is an angel, and every year, she makes traditional, unbelievable, fabulous fruit cake for me. There are so many fruits and nuts in this fruitcake, that it is hard to find the cake! How I love it! She is such a dear, she starts in November looking for the dried fruits. I can't even say how much I love her, she is so precious. She sends a loaf home for me each year, and I slice it really thin so that it will last for a while. It is hard to wait all year to get some more, but the wait is worth it!

When we got back home, I made Martin lie down. We watched TV and the evening passed quietly with his sister Cheryl coming over to visit. She and I are close, and I love it when she comes. Cheryl and I were watching something for old ladies, and Martin decided that he would go and play on the computer. He was in there for awhile, and then he came out and said he didn't feel good. He used his nitro-spray, but after 5 minutes, the pain was increasing. I started to panic, and he said to wait, he would try the nitro-spray again. In a few minutes, the pain began to subside, but I was really nervous and wanted to call 911 to get him to the hospital. He assured me that things were better and went to bed. I got in bed a while later, and he tapped me on the arm saying, "I'm scared". I begged him to go to the hospital, and he said he was okay, just feeling scared. We talked about why he was scared, and he said that he felt he had no control over what was happening to him. I agreed, and we whispered for a long time while holding each other, talking about our faith, the afterlife, and the fact that miracles happen every day. Each time I hold him like that, I cherish each second, because I wonder how many more chances I will have. I pray constantly for so many things, for strength, for comfort, for Martin to have those things, I pray for assurance that Heavenly Father is guiding us, and I pray for knowlege of His will. Mostly I pray that Martin will not be frightened, and can have peace knowing that Heavenly Father will be with him. Martin and I express our love several times a day, touch each other gently, have little kisses and talk. It feels like there is a ravening monster ready to tear our lives apart at any time, and we are holding it back with our tokens of affection and acknowlegment of the love that is so powerful between us. In spite of everything, I feel like he will get the help he needs to extend his life. I think there is so much for him to do still, I really do. I am so grateful that we had this Christmas together, and I pray for many more. Since we are married for eternity, we will have eternal Christmases, but I want more here on this earth. Your prayers have helped so much. I feel a net of love and concern surrounding Martin and me. How thankful I am for that!

tradition continues 2

I wanted to show you a picture of my lovely cookie jar and cookies. It's fun to share such special moments!

Tradition continues1

I had such a wonderful day today. That is a miracle in itself as I stayed up all night doing "you know" meaning checking on Martin, and also had a major cough that would not go away. Then Little Joe came over as usual, and I could barely open my eyes for him, but precious boy that he is, he went right back to sleep. He went to Sissy's around 12 in the afternoon, and Martin and I decided that if we didn't get the crab legs, they would probably be gone everywhere. We were going to sneak out and get a baked potato for lunch, and then Sissy called and asked us out to lunch. Tee-hee, free lunch! So we met them for lunch and then went on our way taking Eli with us to find the crab. Everyone is pitching in to help with the cost of the crab, or believe me, there would be none this year. It has really gone up. First we went to one store, and the supposedly King crab legs looked like snow crab. Nope, won't do. Then we went to another store, and the King crab legs were magnificent! But, they were also 30.oo a pound, so, nope, won't do either. Finally we went to Sam's where we had seen them for 20.oo a pound. Sure enough, there were some really nice king crab legs that looked just like the 30.00 a pound ones we had seen, but were only 20.00 a pound. Now, listen up. I KNOW that 20.00 a pound is exhorbitant for any kind of seafood, but we only get it once a year, and only on Christmas Eve. We asked the seafood manager if he had a box of crab legs for us to buy, as they are slightly cheaper by the box instead of by the pound. He went and looked, and no, he didn't, and as a matter of fact, the only ones they had were already in the seafood case. Martin and I quickly took the ones from the case and put them in the basket, thanking our lucky stars that we even got any at all. As we stood there, silently congratulating ourselves, as only a couple that has been married for 40 years can do, the manager took the basket and went to weigh and put a price on the box he was putting them in. Martin went over to sample some bacon that was on special and given as samples, and I stood by the counter, waiting for our precious crab legs. A man and his wife walked up to the case where the crab legs had been, and began to argue. "I told you that we should have gotten them when we were here! Now look! They are gone!" Uh-oh, awkward for me, because I knew they were mad because all the crab was gone. I stood there, minding my own business, and continued to listen. They went back and forth about how she never listened to him and if for only once she had taken his advice, they would be having crab for Christmas! She reminded him that he was a "know-it-all" and how could she have known that some selfish so and so would come along and hog all the crab legs. There was more said, but I can't repeat it here. Okay, enough said, I got Martin's attention, and motioned with my head that we should move along and just get the crab and get out. We quietly went to the door where the seafood manager was weighing and pricing our precious cargo, and waited for him to bring it out so we could get out without an incident. Does anything go smoothly for us? NEVER! About the minute the manager brought out our priced box of treasure, the man who was arguing with his wife stomped up to the door and demanded to know if there was any more crab legs to be had. See, now is the time to sneak away, but of course the seafood manager announced loudly that the last of the crab legs had just been claimed by HIM- meaning Martin. The unhappy crab deprived customer swung around and said, "Who? Him?" pointng at Martin. "Yep, he bought the last of it" crowed the manager. The customer steps closer to Martin and says, "Are you kidding me? You bought it all? All of it? Seriously, do you actually need all of it?" Martin said yes he did, and the guy starts in about how he didn't understand why Martin needed all of it. I, on the other hand, am calculating how I am going to knock this guy into next week if he upsets my honey. I could take him, I outweighed him by at least 50 lbs. He wouldn't know what to do if a huge woman with a tracheostomy in her throat jumped on him and I figured that would give Martin time to get away with the stash. Let me tell you that wonders never cease. My honey quietly lied to the guy telling him that we had to go to another Sam's to get some more, and he would be glad to tell the him how to get there. Martin towered over this guy, and I guess that the guy decided that he should just back off and go somewhere else to get his crab. I noticed that a small crowd had formed listening with interest, and I had to decency to at least look like I might be a bit embarrassed with all the hoopla. All is well, we took our crab and went to the front and paid for it. We are going to have our crab as usual on Christmas Eve, but I think it will taste just a bit better this year, as we came out the victors in the "crab confrontation". By the way, others had come up to find out if there were any more crab legs, but just turned around and left after watching that guy act so stupid.

This evening, I was wrapping a few more presents, and the a knock sounded at the door. It was a tiny knock, very quiet, and if not for the dogs, I wouldn't have even heard it. I put the dogs out in the back and answered the front door. There stood the children of a precious family that means the world to me, and they were holding a cookie jar. The cookie jar was shaped like Santa, holding a lollipop, and was so very bright red and beautiful. I was so surprised! "Merry Christmas Nana!" the children said, and immediately, tears formed in my eyes. How precious that they would bring me a cookie jar for Christmas! I hugged and kissed them, and thought about how no gift is more special than one chosen especially for me. Then, the little boy said, "Nana, look inside the cookie jar, and you can keep the cookie jar too!" Looking inside the jar, I saw that it was full of Christmas cookies, homemade by these darlings just for me. They were sugar cookies, decorated with colored sugar, and made in different shapes. The tears flowed over. I quickly assurred the children that they were "happy tears", and I hugged them again. I waved to thier parents, and as the little boy went back to the car, he said, "She's crying. But it's okay, they are happy tears!" Happy tears are flowing again as I write to recount this experience. I probably won't make Christmas cookies this year, for many reasons, but mainly because I could never make them as special and perfect as the ones in this cookie jar. And another thing, I am going to display the jar all year, not just for Christmas, so that I can be reminded daily of the love that is mine by this precious family.

So, tradition continues. Cookies were made, not by me, but for me. The purchase of crab legs gave me an experience that I will remember for many years to come. What is tradition anyway, but precious memories, played out over and over?

Pie

Today, I made the candy trains! Even better, Martin made them with me! That is really special, as he has never made candy trains before. It was just the two of us, and we, or perhaps I should say I, really had fun. Now, if I can somehow work in time to make the cookies, this Christmas may be a bit normal after all. Before I continue, let me say that the pain in Martin's arm is going into his shoulder. That really scares me, and he says that as long as the nitro spray takes the pain away, we shouldn't overreact. Whatever, I always overreact. This seems so surreal to me. I am watching a ticking time bomb, and there is nothing to be done for him. I guess I am going to have to bash him over the head with a bat to keep him down for awhile. The cold is better though. He is not coughing so much, so that helps. I keep thinking that Christmas is the very worst time of year to die, well as if any time of year is, but I have to get out of this morose thought process that goes like this:

I wake up and he is dead. He died in his sleep, right next to me when I was sleeping. Who, besides 911 do I call first? How will I act? How can I tell the kids that their daddy is gone? What will I do?

Now, this is the scene that plays through my mind several times a day. I know it is negative thinking, I know that in all probability, Martin will make it until they can fix his artery. That is the positive way to think. And, I hope it happens that way, and everyone can tell me that I was a worry wart for nothing. Sweetest of all, I hope Martin tells me that every day! I won't mind.

Okay, I refuse to ruin my Christmas thinking negatively. I mean, this time of year is made for happy memories. I am concentrating more on the reason for the season, namely the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Because he rose from the grave, I know that we all will, and will be together for eternity.

So, right now, this minute, I am giving up the negativity. I pray that my sunny smile will dominate my life and everyone else's. I am going to buy some crab legs for Christmas Eve dinner, and get ready for the party that we hold every year. This year, it will be at Becky and Joe's house. The family will gather, the crab and shrimp will be cooked, the cardboard flats will be handed out, and we will dig in. The men will see who can eat the most, the kids will gripe that the house smells like crab, and then tear into the chicken nuggets that we will cook for them. The butter will be passed and slopped all over the place, napkins will rain down in a furious shower as greasy fingers will need wiping. Even though we have been at this for many years, Martin will once again show everyone how to crack a crab leg. We will patiently watch him and then go on about our own crab cracking method. Mine is to cut the crab legs open with scissors. Lots easier that way, and then you can peel a long strip of sweet crab meat from the shell and dip it in butter. "Pass the ketchup, pass the butter, pass the french fries, pass the shrimp, I need some more chicken nuggets, I don't know why we have to have crab legs each year, every one else is having turkey or ham, I don't like crab, good, more for me," and other such phrases are repeated religiously each year. Each year, Martin and I worry that we have not bought enough seafood. Each year, there is one or two crab legs left over, and we hide them in the back of the fridge, so that we can have just one more bite the next day. After the feast, we gather and read "The Texas Night Before Christmas". Great book, and so appropriate for all us Texans. Then, the presents are handed out, first to the children and then to the adults. Cookies are placed on the mantel for Santa, and then we take the children to look at the sky and try to spot Santa. Of course, the children are swearing that they are going to stay up all night and catch Santa when he comes. Everyone is so happy, so tickled and so glad to be a part of the family. Christmas is the best time of the year!So, negativity, be gone! I am already getting excited.

Now, back to the day. While we were out, we went to a pie shop and bought strawberry pie. I don't have much luck with strawberry pie, matter of fact I seem to have butterfingers when I try to carry one. I was oh, so very careful taking the pie to the car, and even navigated the lunging, kissing dogs when I got home. The pie made it safely to the refrigerator. Whew! The reason I say this is, I am know to be clumsy. The last time we bought an 11.00 strawberry pie, we also bought a banana pie and I set them out for dessert. I love to play jokes on my family, and so I took the strawberry pie out of the box and set it on the counter. I then took the empty pie box, closed up, and carried it out on top of the banana pie box that actually held the banana pie. With grand flourish, I swept through the dining room with both "pies" in tow, and the joke was that I was going to act like I tripped and dropped the strawberry pie. In the process of "trying" to act like I was tripping, my big size 14 feet got tangled up and I actually dropped both boxes. The banana pie was destroyed, but stayed in the box. It now looked like banana pudding. I was so mad, that I just grabbed both boxes and stomped into the kitchen with them. Everyone was so shocked that I almost fell and was so glad that I didn't and never mind about the pie, after all since I didn't get hurt, well, that was okay. Martin graciously announced that he wasn't upset, because both pies got ruined, not just his favorite banana pie, (and of course I had to listen all day about how he was looking forward to banana pie for dessert) and those things happen. Now, I had to tell everyone that the strawberry pie was on the counter and I was playing a prank that went horrible wrong. I went back into the dining room with a pie pan full of banana mush, and a perfect strawberry pie. No one could stop laughing at me. They are still laughing at me, and it has been several months. So, I have a reputation for ruining expensive pies. I did however, safely make it to the fridge with the strawberry pie today.
This evening, Martin mentioned that a piece of strawberry pie would sure be good, hint hint, so I went to get a slice for him, (and one for me of course). When I opened the fridge door, guess what? The pie came sliding out and landed right on top of my feet, upside down. Can you believe it? It was still in the very sturdy box, but, still upside down. Doing my best not to, I still uttered a profanity. I couldn't believe it. Pie on the floor, upside down. Now, do you think I could ever drop a cheap pie? I couldn't drop a cheap pie even if it was thrown at me. But here I am, once again, looking at 11.00 worth of strawberry pie, all over the box. I just scooped it out and put some in two bowls. As I walked into the bedroom with the "pie" Martin looked at me and said, "you dropped the pie, didn't you? How is it possible that you dropped the pie again? Never mind, it seems that pie dropping is your talent." I sweetly handed him one of the bowls, (the one with less strawberries because he got smart with me) and told him we should be thankful that we even have strawberry mush to eat.

So, please forgive my morose rambling at the beginning of this post, because I am able to write about my feelings, I am able to see where my thoughts lead me. I am thankful for this, because I can really see how damaging those thoughts can be if they are so very negative. Tonight, in the still small hours, I will think of strawberry mush instead of worrying about Martin not waking up. I will remember making trains with him, and Little Joe's sweet smile and giggle, and understand that my life is precious and so very full of blessings.

Gingerbread houses

Tonight, I finally had a traditional Christmas experience. Traditional in so many ways-let me explain. Each year, we make gingerbread houses. This is really important to me, ever since I heard the story of Hansel and Gretel. I was so enchanted by the thought of a whole house made of goodies that you could eat, it didn't even occur to me that poor little Hansel and Gretel were going to be dinner for the witch. Of course I was very young, but I do remember thinking that I would love to have been able to find such a house. It probably wouldn't have worked out well for me, as I was a well-fed child, something the witch was hoping for. But, I digress. I have made gingerbread houses with my children and grandchildren since the children were small. Each year, I am determined that the gingerbread house of the year will be one to rival the efforts of Martha Stewart, and each year I am just happy if it stays together without falling down. They are so pretty on the box! Actually, I only started buying gingerbread house kits in the last few years. Before that, I always made them from scratch, baking the house parts and making the icing myself. The candy added up to some expense, and we always had so much left over, most of it covered with icing and stuck together. So, a kit is the way to go, as it is complete and usually less than ten dollars. Tonight, Eli and Jacob, Little Joe and friends down the street came to make houses. Here comes the tradition. Eli and Jacobs mama, Sissy, was late, the friends down the street were early, and Little Joe was in the arms of his daddy-who of course didn't know where to start. His mama, Becky got there later, and when I let her know that I depended on her to be on time, remarked that she didn't know why I was steamed up, after all, Joe was there. I had more kids than houses, and not enough grown-ups to start the project. Soon, icing was being spurted on sides of houses, and before the houses were strong enough to stand, candy was being placed on the roofs. The houses fell, except the one at the end which stood beautifully, especially since a two year old was working on it with his dad! Before I knew it, as tradition would have it, the table was a pile of candy pieces, icing drippings and semi-broken gingerbread house pieces. Again, as tradition would have it, in spite of the chaos, soon the little houses began to stand alone, and support the load of candies "cemented" by the white icing. Finally, the houses were finished, each one unique and special. They looked nothing like the picture on the box, but that's okay, as tradition would have it, they are lovely to me. Nothing like the witches' house, but special all the same. I also have a Nativity Scene,made of some kind of plaster and painted by my grandkids when they were little. It is hard to tell if the cow is a cow, or the sheep is a sheep, even which one is Mary and which one Joseph. But I love it so much, that it takes center stage on the mantel each year. Why do I love it so much? Because the grandkids are so tickled each year when I put it out.It means so much that I appreciate their efforts. And I do. So, on with the "unique" gingerbread village, what a great tradition! Now, if I can just get the cookies done, I will feel complete. Oh, and the fudge, the dipped pretzels, the brownies, and on and on.

In the midst of all this Christmas revelry, Martin sits in his recliner. Today, he did not move from his chair except to go to the bathroom, until after 6pm, when he went to take Jaybird somewhere. He slept most of the day, and to give him credit, he is still suffering with his cold. But I hate to see him like this. I believe he is very depressed over the situation of imminent termination at work, (because he is too ill to do his job, even though he got ill at work) the fear of an impending heart attack at any moment, feelings of hurt because after 20 years, he could be treated that way at work, and living daily with a regimen of medications and ongoing nebulizing treatments just so that he can breathe. Having a cold doesn't help either. I love him so much, and wish I could lift the emotional pain from him. I get frustrated too, because I am spoiled, and not used to doing everything at home myself. I wanted to throw cold water on him at one point today, just to see him react, but of course I wouldn't do that. All of the years of learning and experience living with him need to come to fore right now. I must be cheerful, patient, kind, loving, and understanding. I have to remember that his life has been forever changed, and he is trapped in circumstances that he never thought to face. So what if he didn't make gingerbread houses with us? To be truthful, he never did before either. Why is it such a big deal now? I guess it is because I am so afraid that this may be the last time he can make gingerbread houses with us. Hopefully he will be around so that I can resent him for not joining in next year and many years to come. That will be the best tradition of all!

Slow down!

It is midnight, and I cannot sleep. I fell asleep today at 2:00pm and Martin woke me at 6:00 pm. Sometimes, I just crash. Fortunately, Becky took the boys with her to Little Joe's check-up, so I didn't have to get up. She is good to me like that. Oh, I am sucking on a tootsie pop while I write. I found it in one of the boys candy bags from a Christmas party at school, and it looked so good, I decided to give in and enjoy! It is funny that little things like a tootsie pop can mean so much. I remember as a kid, trying to lick to the tootsie roll center, (like the owl in the commercial) but just giving up and crunching. The fun was all over after that, and you could even get a small cut on your tongue or the inside of your cheek from the sharp candy. These days, I try not to crunch to quickly. What is the hurry anyway? Getting in a hurry can cause you all kinds of grief. For instance, tonight Martin drove me to Walmart to get a bag of caramels to use to make the candy trains with the boys tomorrow. It seems that caramels are hard to find. I have been to several stores, and to no avail. So, knowing that Martin is waiting in the car, I hurry and get a glue gun, some glue sticks and go to find some caramels. Looking meticulously in the candy aisle, I could not find any. I went to the Christmas aisle, and no caramels. Shoot! So, knowing that the little trains just needed some kind of square candy to make the cab of the caboose, I chose starburst squares. I will just glue two of them together and that will be about the size of a caramel. Snatching the starburst, I began to hurry down to the register, and there they were! A bag of caramels in the baking aisle! Whoopie, I threw the starburst on the shelf, and grabbed a bag of the caramels, tossing them into the cart... Hurrying to the checkout, and congratulating myself on a job well done, as well as crowing to myself that I should have gone to Walmart in the first place since they have everything, I try to find a line that is not too long. Good luck with that. I did find a checkout line with only 4 people ahead of me, and most of them had only a few items, so I settled in to wait. The 1st family checked out and left. Then, an elderly gentleman put his 15 itmes on the counter and carefully watched as each item was rung up. The lady gave him his total, and he pulled out his bank card. He took his time. Slowly swiping the bank card, he waited. Nothing happened. The cashier asked him to swipe it again. This time it worked and she asked him if he wanted debit or credit. He said, "Oh credit, for sure! You can't be too careful these days, and don't want anyone to know your debit card number or they could get into your bank account. I never use debit, never. Why, once I heard........." Okay, move it along Grandpa. I have a crabby husband with a mean cold sitting in the car, counting the minutes until I return. Don't want to get him going, I just got him settled down. The cashier is patiently waiting for him to finish his discourse on the dangers of using a debit card, and FINALLY he finishes the checkout and is on his way. The next lady checks out and pays for her two items, and then, it is my turn. I efficiently throw the glue gun and glue sticks up on the counter, lightly joking about the elderly and how they go on. I am proud of my check-out efficiency, I don't hold up the line, no not me! I pick up the bag of caramels and...wait a minute, what's wrong with the bag of caramels? Why aren't they heavier? What the heck? Checking the bag, I see that they are CARAMEL BITS! Oh, please. Caramel bits? Little bitty balls of caramel? Shoot, I can't use these. I say to the cashier, "these are not what I need. Do you mind if I run and get the right candy?" Forcing a smile on her weary lips she says that she doesn't mind. But guess who does mind? The eight people lined up behind me. I see their stony faces, and I can tell they are calculating how long it is going to take a 300 pound woman to "hurry" all the way to the back of the store to get "whatever she needs". Grinning like a fool, I mutter excuse me please, and pardon me as I leave my two little items on the counter and push past their loaded carts. Did you know that the candy aisle of Walmart is probably about a mile and a half from the check out line? Well, that's how far it seemed to me! Where is a handy husband or grandkid when you need them? I did "hurry" and by the time I got back, I noticed that the cashier had dutifully checked out those behind me until I returned. Remember, I have a cold too, and along with "hurrying" I was sweating like a sumo wrestler by the time I got back to the front. There were looks of concern as I pushed past the others in line, not for my red, sweating face or plastered hair, but for the fact that I was going to the front of the line ahead of them. I gave the cashier the bag of starburst and she quickly ran my three items through. She then looked at the debit card I was holding and said, "debit or credit?" "Uhhh, debit I guess" I told her. She winked at me and reminded me of the lecture she had received on using debit instead of credit. I told her that that was nothing compared to hurrying thorough the store, not paying attention to what you are buying. If I had just looked or even felt the bag of caramel bits, I would not have had to endure the looks of the customers in line, the marathon to the back of the store, or the misery of going ahead of the customers when I got back. That's what you get for hurrying, so, I am not going to crunch my tootsie pop. Matter of fact, it is much smaller now anyway. Maybe just a little crunch.... hmmm

By they way, when I got to the car, instead of the crabby, snot filled demon I expected to find waiting for me, I found a perfectly happy hubby! Why? Well because he was sound asleep! I could have taken my time and done a little shopping....

Today, Martin is still hanging onto his cold. He is really having a hard time of it, and he had to use his nitro-spray again for heart symptoms. I had to be really patient today, as he could not get up and help, and I am still coughing and carrying on with my cold. Little Joe came right on time this morning, but I was already awake, because lately, I only sleep a little while, and then automatically check on Martin. "Checking" means: a gentle poke in the gut to see if he jumps, watching his stomach go up and down to see if he is breathing, touching his arm or forehead to see if he is still warm, or getting right up in his face to just look at him. Once he woke up when I was staring into his face from about 6 inches away, and it really scared him! He said, "what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" Even though it was the dead of night, I thought that was really funny and started laughing. Thankfully, so did he. I mean, he could have taken it the wrong way, right? So, between the little cat naps and the "checking", I don't get great sleep. I feel like I am being paranoid- but I really am concerned about him.

Anyway, Little Joe arrived, gave me a sunny smile and puked all over himself. He still gags when he coughs, so that is to be expected I guess. I had to clean that up, and then he cheerfully went down on his tummy time mat to play with his toys. Right about the time I got kind of snoozy myself, I jerked awake, because I remembered that he had to have a breathing treatment. That takes about 20 minutes, and in the meantime, Eli and Jacob arrived. They are so helpful with the baby and are patient when I have to take care of him, but they are little boys, and always ready for a meal. This morning, they hopefully asked if I could make some "strong-man food" for them, which is Nana jargon for any hot cereal like oatmeal or Malt-o-Meal. I told them I would but to just give me a minute to finish with Little Joe. Being the Nana that I am, I cannot seem to make hot cereal with just water. I always use milk, and a tiny pinch of salt, and heat it slowly while stirring in the cereal and continue to stir over a low flame until it is just the right thickness. Then, before I serve it, I add a generous dollop of real butter and some brown sugar. I spoon the strong-man food onto a plate so that it will cool sooner and finally get it on the table to my very ravenous and appreciative boys. Believe it or not, they will choose my strong-man food over a toaster strudel, (well, most of the time) or pancakes. This morning in particular, I was so very happy that the boys waited patiently while I made the cereal, and Eli even took care of Little Joe so that I could finish.

Martin had generously offered to take the boys for do-nuts, and to be honest, after the puke incident and the breathing treatment, I was all for that. But, Eli gave me the calf-eyes and asked nicely for the strong-man food, and I was lost. Soon after breakfast, the boys asked if they could go to the park that is right next door. Being 10 years old, I feel that Eli can take care of Jacob without me at the park, and I was calculating how long a cat nap I could get since Little Joe was asleep. I told them to be careful and come home if anyone came to the park. How nice to be able to close your eyes and know that if anything happened, the boys would be responsible- I mean, really! So, Little Joe is asleep, Martin is snoozing in his recliner, and I regally recline on my pillows to await the return of the boys, and or Little Joe waking or Martin needing something. The phone rings. It is Eli, and he is calling on his cell phone. "Nana, can we play at my friends house?" What? Wait a minute, what friend's house? I asked him which friend's house and if he were already at the friend's house. He said yes, and I said "NO". I told him to come home, and then I remembered that he had Jacob with him, which he confirmed. I assumed that the friend's house was somewhere right around here, so I told him to come home right away so we could talk about his leaving the park without telling me. I already know his mama is going to have a fit when I tell her that I allowed him to take Jacob to the park alone, even though she has okayed it before. He arrived home right away, and I asked him where his friend lived. He pointed to the neighborhood ACROSS THE HIGHWAY. Oh my gosh, he crossed the highway without permission, and OH MY GOSH, TOOK JACOB WITH HIM. Oh my gosh, I told him to come right home, not knowing where the friend's house was and so he had to cross the highway again with Jacob in tow. I had to take some deep breaths,decide how long I would keep Jessica in the dark about this and keep my patience. Then, of course Little Joe woke up and was hungry and wet. I felt the patience keeper in my brain slowly starting to unravel, and then I just sat down. Martin is asleep, Little Joe is on the bed hungry and wet, and my other two grandsons have safely arrived home after potentially becoming road kill. The, a brilliant idea came to me. Disobediance must have consequences, right? Yes it does. Years ago, I would have taken "Big Mama" the wooden spoon off the wall and used her for her intended purpose, which is not to stir food. But, it occurred to me, that if I used my brain, I had a perfect excuse to get the boys to clean the house for me! I quietly explained why it was a bad choice to cross the highway, especially after not telling me they were leaving the park which is a major no-no on any day. Then, I told them that they could not go back to the park, and had to stay in the house for the rest of the day. Immediately, the groaning began. They said they were bored. Bingo! I found at least 12 different chores to alleviate their boredom. They knew that Big Mama had been kept at her place on the wall this time, so they didn't want to chance it. The work got done. They vacuumed, picked up little trash under the kitchen table, mopped the floors, took the laundry to the laundry room, picked up the toys in the toy room, cleaned the bathrooms and fetched some things when I asked- (like some ice and a cold drink, you know, stuff Nana needs). So, bonus for me, I had help with the house today. Remember, Papa was asleep this whole time. He woke up and saw the busy little beavers, and was so impressed. He told them that he was going to take them to McDonalds for all their hard work. Then, seeing the thunder cloud on my face, he said, "What?" I explained the situation to him, and he realized he was caught in his own trap. Then, with a face as bright as the sun he said, "Gee honey, I have some errands to do, and will be gone for a couple of hours. I could take the boys with my after McDonalds". A couple of hours? Papa and the boys? Hooey! Lets see. A clean house, a full, dry and sleepy baby, and a couple of hours of quiet time? Yeah, you know I gave in. So, this afternoon, I had quiet time. Chubby was sleepy, full and dry, the dogs were outside, and the house was done. Heaven! I though of all the stuff I could do with the time I was given, and mentally began to check off each item, one by one. Finish wrapping the Christmas presents, make some Christmas cookies, pack the box to send to Aarons family for Christmas, put the clean laundry away, (the clean laundry from the weekend), make some phone calls, and on and on. But what I did, was clear my mind, pick up a novel and climb into bed next to sleeping chubby, (oh so carefully of course) and stretch out. I ACTUALLY GOT A NAP! But all too soon, the dogs came rushing in when Martin and boys returned, the baby woke up hungry, the phone began to ring, and it was business as usual. I did actually finish packing the presents for Aaron's family, and start some dinner, all the while the boys grousing that they wanted to go to the park, and Martin letting me know that he still had a cold. I juggled the baby, who was hungry and wet, looked once again longingly at the cookie cutters waiting for my attention, and reminded myself that the greatest blessings in the world are just such blessings as I have with all the activity in my life. Just as I was mentally thanking Heavenly Father for everything, the baby puked all over me, I mean really puked all over me, shirt, hair, arm, and himself, the boys started fighting and Martin wanted something. I started coughing, and could not get my breath, and pointedly looked at my husband, who was still waiting for something. That's okay, I calmly walked to my room, comforting the crying pukey baby, reminded the boys that Big Mama was still there and anxious to go, and told Martin to put a sock in it. Then, after changing the baby and myself, setting the boys in front of the TV and graciously explaining to Martin that "I'LL GET TO IT WHEN I CAN!", settled in the rocking chair, rocked the baby and once again thanked Heavenly Father for blessing me with a perfect life.

Piles

Here are a couple of pics of my sugar pie and one of his little gowns I made!

Well, it is still piling up. I just gave a grateful goodbye to members of the church who stopped by to pick up the 40 baked potatoes that I cooked for the ward Christmas party. I am not able to go to the party, as I probably have more than a cold and am just miserable. Martin is pretty miserable too, because with his cold, each time he coughs, his arm starts to hurt and it scares. The arm pain is the only symptom of his heart condition. In addition to that, I cannot go and see Little Joe in the hospital, and I am worried about Becky being overwhelmed with having him so ill. He seems to be getting better, but his oxygen sats are not up well enough yet and so he has to stay for another day. I made him some little gowns that are made of 100% cotton, as the hospital gowns are make of polyester, and with his fever, he was just so hot all the time. In the pics I uploaded, he is in his Diego fabric. I also made dinosaurs and another fabric. I miss him. In addition, tomorrow night is Gingerbread house night, and I want him to be so much. But even if he gets out tomorrow, I don't think it is a good idea to have him around a bunch of kids. So, it looks like Little Joe and Nana will make a Gingerbread house one-on-one later in the week. Only 8 days till Christmas, and I have still made no cookies. AHHHHH! I am freaking out! I have to make the cookies! I cannot let a Christmas go by without my precious grandchildren having Nana's homemade Christmas cookies. Somehow, I will make the cookies. Funny thing, I seem to be the only one who feels the way about I do about the cookies. Everyone is like, "Oh, don't worry about the cookies, you have enough right now to worry about, anyway, you are sick. Just let it go". No way! Oh yes. I also have to make the Christmas candy trains. They are little train engines made of gum, lifesavers, caramels and hershey kisses. My grandchildren have never had a Christmas without them, not to mention that I usually make enough to share with the Primary kids at church. Not done 'em yet. Got the stuff though, so I know that Eli and Jacob will help me this week.

I still have to think about the Christmas Eve dinner- but maybe Sissy will have it at her house. I will ask. So, it is piling up. That's okay, I love the tradition, and somehow with the illness, the worry, and the anxiety, I will still have my traditions of Christmas Cookies, Candy trains, and Gingerbread Houses. With all of those, the illness, anxiety and worry will definetly disappear!

Blessings

Well, I still have a cold. Because I also have a tracheostomy, having a cold is a difficulty that I can certainly do without. But never mind that, the baby, Little Joe, has ended up in the hospital with RSV because of his cold. Becky is such a good mama, she noticed changes in him, very subtle, and got worried, and took him to the doctor thinking maybe it was an ear infection. It turned out to be the start of a very serious respiratory condition, and the doctor said we had caught it right at the beginning. He is in Pediatric ICU right now, and hopefully for only a few days. I entitled this entry, "Blessings" and let me tell you why. It is such a blessing that we are near a medical center and not in Africa. You have to look at it like that, or you will start feeling sorry for yourself! Another fabulous blessing: After a year of looking, we have found a wonderful attorney that will take Martin's workers comp case! Over this past year, I have spend untold hours trying to find someone who would help us with workers comp, and everyone has turned us down, saying that they didn't want to take on a case like Martin's, where he has become so ill due to environmental contamination. I had just given up, and was trying to do everything myself, but I had little hope of getting help. Martin's job is threatening termination because he has become so ill- I have just been a wreck! But yesterday, our attorney told me to sit back and stop worrying, he will do the legwork from now on, and I told him then we could put the rest in Heavenly Father's hands. Also, Martin has learned to recognize the symptoms when his heart is under strain, and he backs off, just sitting down or lying down. Today is the last day of school for him for Christmas, (and if the college has it's way, the last day of work forever) so he has 3 weeks to take it easy. I am going to baby him, he deserves it!

Today, I will spend the day with Becky at the hospital with Little Joe. He is so precious, and he just busts out in huge grins when he sees me or Papa. Becky is so strong, last night when they went to put in the IV, I just got up and walked out, leaving poor Becky to it. Good thing too, because when I heard him screaming, I became really faint, and the only thing that kept me from passing out cold was that the Priesthood from the church was there to give Little Joe a blessing and I concentrated on getting to a couch with their help. I am such a sissy sometimes.

9 more days till Christmas. I wonder what I will be doing on Christmas day. Every year on Christmas Eve, we have a family party with lots of seafood. I have been planning this for sometime, but I am not sure what will be going on. We usually have enormous king crab legs, shrimp, french fries, and chicken nuggets for the little ones. There is lots of crab cracking, slurping, butter dipping, joking, and eager anticipation for gift opening. I MUST BE NORMAL! So, somehow, we are going to have our seafood Christmas eve. Only 9 days left, but you know me, I will pull it off somehow! What a blessing!

I have a cold. I am miserable, my throat hurts, and I am croaking when I talk. Martin also has a cold, he must have given it to me. The baby has a cold, Becky is just getting over a cold and Joe had a cold last week. I don't get to stop when I have a cold, because as many of you, there is no stopping for me. Fortunately, the baby slept quite awhile today, and I got to cat nap. Martin went on in to work, and as usual, I worried the whole time he was gone. Yesterday, cold and all, I decided that I would go ahead and make the gingerbread houses that we are going to decorate on Sunday night. I dragged out my Kitchen-aid mixer, and mixed up 4 batches of gingerbread all at once. I poured it into 2 large cookie sheets and baked it. When the first pan was ready, I got the big idea to turn it over onto foil while it was still hot so that I could cut out the gingerbread house parts. It didn't fall out evenly, but in huge clumps of hot, messed up gingerbread. Well, I thought I could use the smaller pieces for sides of houses, and that worked out pretty good. When the other pan came out, I left the gingerbread in it, and traced and cut out 2 perfect gingerbread houses. I set the house pieces up on the counter to dry out, and thought about trying again, as we have about 6-7 little ones coming to make gingerbread houses. I was just pooped, and the baby needed me, so I thought I would do it later that night. Becky came home from work and stopped to get the baby. I was at the dining room table, doing something, and she walked up and said: "Mom, these cookies are really good!" What cookies? Oh, no, not those cookies! "Precious", I said, "what cookies are you talking about?" "The ones on the counter with the funny shapes" she said. "DUMPLING", I said, "Do you mean the funny shapes that look like gingerbread house parts?" "Oh, is that what they are? I thought they looked unusual" said my daughter. Of course this happened to my hard work. I sat there at the table, and kept my cool, and then I got on the phone and texted each mama that was bringing a child on Sunday, and told them where they could find a gingerbread house kit, all inclusive. It is so much easier that way!

I still have to make the Christmas cookies, and if I don't, it will be the very first time in my 39 1/2 year marriage that I have not. Somehow, I will do it, I am not wired not abstenteeism when it comes to making Christmas cookies. I am just tired, and this cold is wearing me down. I still have a little time, no problem. Like I said, things have to be normal, and it would be very un-normal if I did not make the Christmas cookies this year. Martin needs to act like he didn't know I was going to make his favorite cookies, and then remark that he doesn't need any cookies. Just put them out for Santa. Somehow, they are always gone on Christmas morning, and since we got rid of the mouse we had, it points to Papa as to who enjoyed them. The regular list of cookies each year is: Spritz cookies, chocolate chip, peanut butter cup cookies, frosted sugar cut-out cookies and something with pecans. Then I make fudge: chocolate with and without walnuts, and jets, which are white candies made of nothing but powdered sugar and real butter. For Jaybird, I make potato candy and for everyone else, dipped pretzels, mini chocolate turtles and other stuff. So I need to get the lead out and get going! Christmas has to be normal this year- somehow

Coping

Well, today was pretty much normal, but even when things are normal, they can be hectic. It is my granddaughter Audrey's birthday today. I am not the best long-distance Nana, but I try. This year, I even missed my grandson Sam's birthday last week- it is his first birthday and I feel so bad about that. My son tries to boost my spirits by saying that the kids love me and understand what Papa and I are going through. Aaron is so understanding, and such a blessing, but until he is a Papa himself, he cannot know the guilt that accompanies missing a special day. Actually, I did very well this year, over a month ago, I bought the gifts to send, gifts that were unique to each child. I wrapped them and had them ready to go, and then even packed the box that they were to be mailed in. Included in the box was the felt Christmas stocking that I had made for Sam (I try to make one for each grandchild) and ready to be packed was a gift card to McDonalds for the whole family. I had the box (open of course) on the dining room table and had intended to mail it last week, but when I came in that night, I got a miserable surprise. I had left a route 44 diet coke on the table next to the box, and one of the "loving monsters" meaning one of the giant german shepherds, had jumped up to see what was in the box. Of course, he knocked the drink into the box, soaking everything thoroughly. I found this mess about an hour later, and so, it was truly a huge disaster. Fortunately, the Felt Stocking had been put in ziploc bag, and did not get wet, but the rest- nevermind. So today, on Audrey's birthday, we got some gift cards for Audrey and Sam, some birthday cards and sent them to the children along with the felt stocking. It was not until I was talking to Aaron tonight, that I realized that the McDonalds gift card is still on Papa's dresser. I believe I uttered a profanity and started to cry. I want to be a good Nana, really I do. I probably am a better Nana than I think, as I also had a little situation with Kayleigh and Jacob this afternoon. We came in from the park, and I was tired and Little Joe was hungry, so I asked the kids to sit down and watch tv- and gave them one of those popcorn tins that has the three flavors of popcorn in it. That worked well for about 5 minutes and then Kayleigh started screaming at Jacob. Baby is still drinking, so I asked what the trouble is. Kayleigh is crying saying that Jacob is licking the popcorn and putting it back in the tin so that she can't have any. Jacob defends himself by saying that he is just making sure there will be enough for him. I put the baby down, who immediately begans squalling, (he is still hungry) and go look in the tin. By now, Jacob is picking out the licked popcorn pieces, and I calmly explain to him that Papa will be eating some of that popcorn too, and that isn't nice to mess up the whole tin for everyone. Behind my back, Kayleigh is licking the inside of the popcorn lid, so that she can put it on the popcorn, shake it up, and make sure all of it has Kayliegh lick on it. I catch her in the process of trying to put the licked lid on the popcorn, and once again, calmly explain that it isn't nice to lick the inside of the popcorn lid. I then tell them that if they cannot share the popcorn, I will eat it all and they won't have any! Dear Eli has gone and picked up the baby for me, and is trying to calm him down. It is so wonderful to have older grandchildren that truly want to help.

On top of everything else, I had to get Martin ready for work. He is still going, says he won't stop because he gets paid for sitting at his desk, and so why not go? Well, as he was leaving, I asked him, "do you have your kleenex"? Yes. "do you have your rescue inhaler?" Yes. "Do you have your portable nebulizer?" Yes. "Do you have the albuterol to go in the portable nebulizer?" Yes. "Do you have your Nitro-spray?" Yes. "Are you wearing your medical bracelet?" Yes. Check, check, check, okay, you are good to go. I remember the good old days when all I had to ask him was if he had his keys! He only has to make it this week, and then he is off for Christmas break for almost 3 weeks. When he is home, I make sure he is resting, when he is asleep, I poke him on occasion to make sure he is still moving, and when he is watching TV I watch his belly to make sure it is still going up and down. Now, I am probably the worst kind of worry-wart, but I love him, and I so want everything to be okay. I'm going to bed. Morning will come crashing in on me before I know it, and I want to just lay prone and quiet without having to answer, do, or settle. Time enough for that tomorrow.

inspiration

Today is Sunday, my favorite day of the week. Mr. Oberti, the attorney called this morning and we had a phone conference to clarify the letter he is sending to the college on Martin's behalf. I was so impressed that he could care so much about us, that he would call on Sunday morning when he should be having a day off. But he did. Martin couldn't go to church as he is pretty sick with a cold, but I went anyway. As I sat in Sacrament meeting, and as they were passing the sacrament, I was praying and thanking Heavenly Father for all our blessings, especially that Mr. Oberti would go to so much trouble to protect Martin's work. A thought flashed strongly through my mind, that Heavenly Father sent him to us. I then remembered that with the difficulties recently, I had become behind with my tithing. I am a strong advocate of tithing and I have a strong testimony that if I trust Heavenly Father and pay my tithing, he will keep his promise to "keep the devorerer from the door". We are pressed with co-pays for medication for Martin and myself, and have experienced a hard year financially, but up until October I had paid a full tithing in spite of it. I was worried that I had fallen behind, because Heavenly Father does not fall behind when I need something, and so it was really pressing on my mind to fix the situation. When I received my disability check I asked Becky if she would take me to the Bishop's house so that I could give him a check to catch up my tithing. Being Christmas time, I guess I could have used it for gifts and stuff, but I already had made my gifts, and so there was no question, I would pay the amount to get myself to full tithe paying status. Today, I realized that Heavenly Father has lead us to Mr. Oberti, and probably because he is one of the multitude of blessings we need and will receive to help us through this illness and threat of loss of employment. Also, as I sat there, the thought came to me that Martin will live until they can fix him, and then he will be much better. I thought, "Well, that is my wish, and not from Heavenly Father", but why can it not be from Heavenly Father? After all, it came strongly to me when I was praying, so I will attribute it to Father's influence, and not try to dispell such good news. So, I want to say that Heavenly Father is there for us, knows what we need and can see the big picture. We cannot. I guess faith is waiting and believing that Heavenly Father will see us through,

Christmas Cheer pics

Just a few of the pics I took while standing outside tonight. See why I am so tickled? I will try to get some in the daytime too, so you can see the whole thing

Christmas Cheer

Today was so special, as my loving family came over and put up all the Christmas lights, blow-ups and decorations. Usually, Martin and Bobbie Jo would do all that, but things are different now. Becky knew that seeing our yard all decorated would be a huge boost for Martin, and sure enough it is. There was David, Natalie, Shane, Tyler, Jaybird, Joe and Becky. They worked all day. I made hot chocolate, and "forgot" to let anyone know that I loaded it with Hershey Syrup. Jaybird was amazed at how good it tasted, and well, I didn't want to burst his bubble. I did the inside of the house. I took out all my Christmas cookie jars, the musical ceramic Christmas tree, the animated Santa in the outhouse, and my fabulous tropical Christmas with all the fabulous tropical ornaments. The lights are gleaming, and our spirits are high. I went out in the dark awhile ago, and just stood there, loving the efforts made. It is a shame that we only do this for about a month each year, but then I guess we wouldn't appreciate it if we did it every day. Already the neighborhood is stopping by to admire our yard and thank us for decorating. Lots of cars stop, get out and take pictures with their kids. Martin is happy to have the decorating done, but he misses getting on the roof to do it himself.

The entire yard is lined with lighted candycanes, there is a nativity, a Santa's workshop, Santa and sleigh being pulled by flamingos, Mr. and Mrs. Claus, a christmas tree, a penguin, a train, and well, probably other stuff, but I can't remember it all. Lights circle the trees, lighted icicles surround the roof, and the bushes are covered with lights. I wish you could see it! Remember when I wrote how important it was to be normal? Well, this is normal for us. Coming in the very near future, we will be baking our cookies, and next Sunday, making gingerbread houses. Even Little Joe will help with that. Yes, normal feels so good. Martin has a head cold now, and he is a sniffling wreck. Well, so am I, anything else wrong with him is frightening to me. He does look pitiful, with his kleenex, his little bucket to throw the kleenex away in, and sounds awful, as he is blowing his nose, (sounding like a forlorn seal), coughing, sneezing his nose off and okay, I'll admit, doing his "man-whining". Never did that when he found out about his heart, or when he found out about his lungs, but something in the rights of manhood is deeply instilled in each male human: Whine when you have a cold. I don't mean to sound hard hearted, but man-whining is something familiar. I have tucked him in all day, made soup, brought drinks and talked baby talk to him. Oh, I gave him medicine too, so we just have to ride it out. We will wake up tomorrow and he will be better, but I guess I can baby him just a bit longer. After, I still have him to baby, and I hope I will for years to come!

A light in the darkness

After we got the news that they were going to fire Martin, I became ill. I tried not to, but my nerves are shot, and my stomach is paying the price. So far, he is still employed, but let me tell you what has happened. Someone gave Martin the name of yet another attorney that might be able to help us. For a year now, everyone we have tried has not been interested as it is very difficult to litigate a state agency. I had very little hope that this new one would be helpful, but as it turns out, he is a specialist in ADAA (American Disabilities Act) violations! He has jumped right on it and had us in for an appointment the very next day. He listened, asked questions and in general, made us feel that someone out there might feel that Martin had been wronged. Finally, some help! I have been especially anxious because Martin CANNOT be stressed at this time. Just last night, I awoke to Martin poking me frantically and gasping something I could not understand. Finally, I figured out that he was asking for his Nitro Spray, which wards off cardiac pain and is to be used with heart attack symptoms. I ran outside in my nightshirt and undies to the car and got his spray, and quickly dosed him. It took 20 minutes for the pain in his arm to subside, and boy, I was so frightened. I find myself looking at him in the middle of the night, checking to see his tummy going up and down when he breathes. Sometime, I lightly rub his arm, hoping it will not be cold and clammy. The doctor told me today that the next time this happens, with the cardiac pain, if the nitro spray doesn't relieve it in 5 minutes, spray again and wait another 5 minutes. If it is still there, call 911. I asked the doctor what we could do, and again he reminded me that Martin cannot have bypass surgery, as his lungs are just too weak. We have to wait and hope for the best- We will know on January 5th when they will try again to fix that artery. I still can't believe that this had happened to Martin. He has always been the rock in my life, ape-strong, calm, confident and cocky. His sense of humor is getting us through this, thank God that we can openly discuss the situation and make little jokes about it. Martin has always been sensitive to the fact that he is dyslexic, and when he was little, he was belittled for his inability to learn to read. It took my a long time to help him realize his worth, hold his head up and understand that the great store of knowlege and experience are priceless. Once, someone asked him what it would cost to repair a vehicle. Martin did not quote the standard price, but indeed, gave the man a great deal. The man thought it was too much, and said, "I don't know how you can try to wrangle so much money out of me, after all, you are only a grease monkey!" Not missing a beat, Martin replied, "that is professor grease monkey to you!" For those of you who are unaware, Martin teaches automotive instruction at a local community college, has 3 degrees including automotive repair and instruction, diesel repair and instruction, and welding instruction. In addition, he is fully ASE (automotive service of excellence) and has countless hours behind him in on-going instruction training, as well as another countless hours of instruction in new information in the automotive industry. He has 20 years teaching in the automotive field, and a whole lot many more years teaching those who came to him for advice, of course, never asking for a dime. The tale I like to repeat about him is when someone asked his opinion about a car, and Martin gave it. The other man said, "why should I take your word for it? After all, how much can one person know?" Another friend of Martin's who was listening turned suddenly and told the man, "listen buddy, if Martin says your engine trouble is because a blue bird flew up into your tail pipe, well then you had better be looking for a blue bird in your tail pipe!" So you see, it is the most difficult thing to see him unable to do the things he loves to do. He has to take it easy, so easy for now. He is going to work but he is just sitting at his desk, and on occasion, assisting other instructors when asked. I keep the phone in my pocket, and each time it rings, I jump, so afraid it is bad news. I wish he would stay home, but he is worried about not making the income because he has exhausted his sick leave. He says he can sit and think about it at work as well as at home.

Today, he went to the Farmer's market and brought home and entire bushel of giant sweet potatoes. We love them, and eat them often. The best part of getting a farmer's market bargain is sharing the goodies. You always have lots to use and lots to share. These sweet potatoes look like small hams. We can share one between us and they will last a long time.Unfortunately, Martin can't have real butter anymore, so that kind of takes the shine off the experience. No matter, there is always Promise margarine.

We had fun at Walmart tonight too. We went to get some milk, (and other stuff) and I told Martin to get in an electric cart, because I didn't want him getting tired out. He said, "I will if you will!" I was feeling quite exhausted, and in my case, exhaustion, hunger or heat will throw me right into a seizure, so I happily agreed. I don't use those carts, because you may have noticed that very few normal-sized people ride on them. Usually, the very well fed will use them, but I know my limits. Anyway, we rode all over Walmart looking at the Christmas stuff and really had fun. For a little while, it took my mind off the little difficulties we are having.

On Wednsday, the teenage girls and their leaders from church came over. They wanted to do something to help me, and with a huge grin and total joy, I told them that I needed my cookie jars dusted. That doesn't sound like much, right? Have you seen my cookie jars? Anyway, all 186 of my cookie jars got a good dusting, and my spirits got quite a lift. Then the girls gave me a lovely basket with a poinsettia, some fabulous cookies, (gotta get the recipe) and some hot chocolate along with marshmallows on a skewer, that were dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with peppermint pieces. I realized as I watched those precious girls and women that I would never be alone, and indeed, if the unthinkable happens, I would be exponetially blessed by the love that is so abundant in my life. It is late and I will close,

Still another difficulty!

Today, on top of everything else, Martin was told that he had to go back into the classroom that made him so ill in the first place or they would begin termination proceeding immediatly. At first I fell completely apart, and then because of wise words from a dear friend and a prayer session, I realized that they can threaten all they like. Heavenly Father is in charge of all of this, and if Martin is supposed to stay at that job then he will, and if not, well something will happen to keep us going. I personally would like to see him get away from that toxic environment, and be able to somehow be able to rest and maybe heal. I am comforted by the thoughts of us having years together to enjoy the life we have built, and our family. I will sleep well tonight, not plagued by "what ifs" because I feel the comforting love of my Heavenly Father.

On a brighter note, I wrapped gifts today, and that lightened my mood so much. Each gift reminds me of the recipient and how much they mean to me. Then, I got to thinking, "how can I really bring the spirit of the holidays to our home?" With all the difficulties going on, I havent even hung a wreath! The only Christmas decoration I have right now is a darling clock given to me by Jessica. It is like a cuckoo clock, meaning that each hour, it goes off with Santa coming out of the little door on top shouting, "HO HO HO". Believe me, it scares the crap out of me every time! Then it plays a christmas carol, and that is nice. I decided to really make an effort to get my Christmas cookies going. Also, I am going to make Christmas jelly from the wild berries in my freezer that my niece spent days picking last spring. I didn't get to make jelly then, because I had a stroke and was kind of out of it for awhile. No problem now though, I am ready to go! In years past, when Bobbie Jo was with us, I wouldn't have had to worry about it. She started planning Christmas in the summer time, and by Halloween, she was rearing to go. Lights, decorations, parties, dinners, shopping and so much more was carefull orchestrated by her Christmas-loving self. The poor Thanksgiving turkey didn't stand much of a chance, as right after dinner she would be ordering the women to do the dishes and put stuff away. The men already knew to be going out to the shed and start the laborious task of taking out tons of yard decorations and miles of lights. The tree would be erected and decorations would be placed in military order, just so. Wreaths, figurines, garlands and so much more would transform our little house into a Christmas wonderland. My only job would be to keep the cookies going, and making sure I had little packages to put them in. Then, out would come her list of who got what cookies or candy and just how to pack them for gift giving. Family, teachers, friends, kids, coaches, co-workers, church members and so many others were slated for a yummy treat. Like I said, all I had to do was bake.

Every year I had to listen to Martin grouse about why I was baking so many cookies and making so many pans of fudge and candy. I did my best to explain it, but he would go on and on about how nobody else does stuff like this. But guess who would be the first to run and get a cookie package if someone came over? Yeah, Martin, bragging all the while about how he made sure that the boxes were full and no one was forgotten! Oh, and lets not forget the trays of goodies that he would take to his students! His big ole Bah Humbug attitude would completely disappear when it came time to share.

Martin loves socks, and every year, the kids get him several packages. I still have some left from last Christmas, but he says that there can never be too many pair of fresh, white comfy socks. When someone asks what he wants for Christmas, Martin always says, "Socks!" He doesn't know how many pair I have donated behind his back, anyway, I don't have enough drawer space to keep them all! Next time you see him, look at his ankles and see if he doesn't have a bright new pair of white socks on. Don't be surprised if you do!

It is things like this that keep me upbeat and happy in the midst of illness, job jeopardy, and possible future loss. The good is so much better than the bad. We are going to come out on top of this job thing, and I believe that if Father wills it, then Martin will be here for a good long time. We will look back on it with gratitude and hopefully humor.

Normal

We are trying to be normal. My day consists of waking to the smiling face of Little Joe with his beaming eyes, so glad to see me, and as usual, starving. Then, after a quick feed, I put the dogs out and make sure the front door is open. If I have enough time, I bake some cinnamon rolls or bisquits before the other kids show up. They are: Eli, Jacob, Kayleigh, Cole, and two little girls that live down the street. They aren't there for long, they gobble whatever I have fixed for them, catch the bus, and when they are settled on the bus and I am waving like a lunatic, (I want them to know that I will miss them), I take the baby and hopefully give him to Martin to play with so that I can make Martin's breakfast. If not, I prop him on the kitchen table in a bouncer and act like an idiot entertaining him so that I can get stuff done. Acting like an idiot includes dancing to whatever is on the radio, making funny faces, talking baby talk and in general, doing whatever we nana's do to make our infant grandchildren happy. While cooking grits and toast, usually eggs (but not so much anymore) and pouring milk, I am thinking about all the other stuff I have to do. When Martin's food is done, I bang on a cast iron frying pan with a metal spoon to get his attention, as it is easier than walking all the way to the back of the house to get him, especially if I have to haul the 19 pound bundle of love with me. As I sit and eat with Martin, the dishes are glaring at me, the washer reminds me that there is a pile of clothes to do and the dogs are frantically jumping at the back door to be let in. Those dogs can wait! By now, Little Joe is ready to play. He is a good baby, but after all, he is a baby and so, we play. We play while I load the dishwasher, and while I am loading the washing machine. Because I am still in the kitchen doing these things, he is still in his bouncer watching me. Usually the phone is ringing off the hook, Becky checking on Little Joe, Sissy with info on the boys schedule, someone wanting to sell me something, and on and on. Guess what? It is barely 8am by now. I take Little Joe to the bedroom and put his "tummy time" mat on the bed, and settle him on it. Martin is usually doing a breathing treatment, so good Nana that I am, I settle on the bed with the baby so that he won't roll off. I love tummy time, because I can relax for a while and watch whatever Martin has deemed important on TV. Unfortunately, that is usually Jerry Springer or some other stupid show that wants us to know who the Baby Daddy is, or whatever. You would think a well educated man like Martin (oh what the heck, who is the Baby Daddy?) After about 30 minutes, little eyelids began to droop, (mine too!) and I take Little Joe to the rocking chair to rock him to sleep. It doesn't take long. Soon he is cherubic in his sleepy time, and I put him in the crib, mentally figuring how long I have before he wakes up. Now, I can sweep, dry the clothes, unload the dishwasher, check my email, and if I am very lucky, grap a cat nap, all the time listening for Little Joe. Once I am prone on my bed, my mind begans to race. Thoughts of Christmas gifts, dinner, what kind of a snack will the kids want, are the missionaries coming for dinner, and other things that are pending. I try to slow my mind down, and about the time I succeed, Martin asks me if I have made and appointment, checked the bank account, called the workers comp office, spoken to the other doctor, called in his prescription and on and on. I patiently smile and say, "yes, no but I will, I tried yesterday and had to leave a message, the doctor wasn't in, and the prescription is ready. Finally, I can doze, and before I know it, I hear Little Joe informing me that it is time for a bottle. I feed him, change him, tickle him and give him to Martin. (He is too little to care who the baby daddy is anyway). Now, it is time to help get Martin of to work. Before I know it, bottle time again, and diaper changing time again. (Sometimes the whole morning is taken with doctor's appointments) I glance at the clock and it is 2:00 pm. Shoot! The bus will be here in about an hour and a half. Plenty of time to get ready for the kids, fold the laundry, think about supper, put the dogs out again and try to do some sewing or crocheting. At 3:25 I step outside and wait for the bus. Little Joe and I sit in the yard swing waiting, and soon, there they are, exploding off the bus, full of energy and joy and starving. I set out snacks, oversee the homework and listen to the day's news. Little Joe is getting hungry again. Eli is such a help, he keeps an eye on the others while I feed the baby and settle him down. Before I know it, the Mothers are arriving and the house is quiet. Oh, but wait! I have to feed the dogs. They will let me know if I am late with that! FINALLY! Alone time. Maybe. Now is the time when the family wants to catch up on the day, or the phone is ringing or whatever. Before I know it, Martin is on the phone, telling me he is on his way home. It is usually 10:pm by now.

Now, you may wonder why I have outlined my day for you. I have done so, because, I want things to continue as they are. I want to continue normally, in spite of the difficulties we face. One of my little one's mama asked if I will continue to put the kids on the bus, and that's I when I realized the importance of being normal. I told her, "yes indeed, things will go on as usual. We must be normal, or things will fall apart." What a blessing to have normality when nothing is ever going to be the same again. Those precious little faces that depend on me keep me going and make me realize how blessed I am. They give me life. I need them to cope with this situation, and indeed, if anything makes me panic, it is that I could not have them to greet each day, morning and afternoon. How awful it would be to have a whole day to think of nothing but the illness we face and the possibility of loss in the future. I don't have time for that, because, things will continue to be "normal" for me.

By the way, Martin went to work today. He said he is not going to sit around with nothing to do but think- I had a fit, but I can see his point. He doesn't do much but sit around at work, and if it will help him with this, so be it. Of course I called him hourly to see how he was doing- Poor baby, he had to have a baked potato with chopped chicken for dinner, no butter or sour cream, and just a touch of cheese. He would normally have had a burger or chicken or whatever I had sent with him, but now, we have to be dilligent. He told me he wanted to go to the Whataburger, and I said "okay, Just wave at them as you DRIVE BY!"

Each day is hard, as I am so afraid that he will have a heart attack that he cannot recover from. That is stupid thinking, and certainly from the adversary, so I put my mind on the positive instead. We will continue to be normal, especially at this wonderful time of year. I will certainly cherish each day with my Hunny, they are so very precious to me.