There are no accidents

I have been on a quest lately . . .

For a long, long time I have wondered who I am. I have wondered about life and all the strange things that it takes to make an hour, a month, a life, an individual.

I think too much, I know, but maybe that will pay off some day.

Forrest Gump said,

"I don't know if we all have a destiny, or if we are all just floating around on a breeze, accidental like. I think maybe it's both."

I want to know why I love the sky, why I hate pickles, why I have blue eyes and freckles, what causes my thoughts to turn the way they do. What and who and why I am who I am.

I have been studying family history, and that has helped a little. It seems all of my ancestors were very generous and loved to help people. My great, great, great grandfather loved children and nature and had blue eyes, much like me.

But most of the stuff I have learned has been things like the fact that the first Wixom (then spelled Wixam) came to America from England on the Mayflower in 1630. The family lived there for generations before the west started being settled and they started branching out. To New York, Ohio, Michigan, Texas, Utah and California. One of my ancestors was headed to California to work the gold rush, when, along the way a man convinced him he should settle in Utah instead. He did, and from there the family moved to Paris, Idaho and the Burly areas, and finally Groveland, near Blackfoot, where many of them now are buried.

I have thought about that . . . that that one conversation between two people I will never meet helped to determine where I grew up. If he had not been convinced to move to Utah I may very well live in California right now (And I would have stock in a major sunscreen brand!) And throughout the history of my family's life and all of ours, a million little decisions such as that have determined where we all are and who we all know, where we all work and what we hate and love.

Is it all a big plan? Or is it all coincidence?

What about things like having a dream about someone who have not seen for years, and then the next day you run into them in a grocery store? Of having a bad feeling about someone at a certain moment in time and then the next day finding out they were in an accident or something? Or, my favorite, meeting people that you know you were meant to meet. People who you simply click with, with no explanation or reason other than you just feel like you have known that person for years. Or meeting someone that hurts you more than you have ever been hurt, but then, learning from that hurt and having it turn you into a better, stranger you. You can't regret that hurt, you can't regret that person, he or she made your life better.

I am not the wisest person on the earth and I will never claim to be, but I have learned a few things.

I really do believe that every thing happens for a reason. I think that we ignore so many of the signs around us that things are going the way they are meant to. We try to force our lives and destiny instead of just doing what is right and best. I have been probably the most guilty of this.. . .

One of the hardest things to do is to un-train your mind from something that you have always known, always believed. And some of the greatest battles ever fought are internal. I am still practicing, every day. Some days it's hopeless, others I feel I make progress. But mostly importantly, I am happy! That is a really big deal for me!

This is one of my favorite songs, because it expresses in 4 minutes exactly what I could never say in a hundred pages! I love Lacuna Coil!

Something's always there to remind me

There is a certain person in this world whom I more absolutely despise than any other. The fact that this person can not only exist, but thrive and prosper, causes me to nearly lose all faith in humanity. That a person could be so selfish, so thoughtless, so absolutely positively stuck on their own ideas of what is right and wrong is more disturbing than anything I read in the daily paper.

I feel this pure hatred, the anger for this person . . . words like hate and rage do not even apply for what I feel for him, they are too simple. The words I feel for this person simply do not exist in any language that has been formulated.

Then I ask myself how one person can cause me this much strife. One person of seven billion can cause my pulse to race, my nostrils to flare, my skin to redden with the emotion built up inside. One person can do this to me.

Does that make me any better? Does that make me weak? Does that mean he wins? No this is not a game, but I feel as though I need to be ahead anyway. For myself. I need to prove that I am better than this. That no matter how much he tells me and shows me how awful I am, how terrible, how much this world would be better without me . . . I need to prove him otherwise.

I am running out of energy to fight him, and no one understands. I want to give in, to throw my hands in the air and say, fine, you win. But every time I fall the people who believe in me are there to pick me up, to dust me off and re-arm me with words of encouragement.

The pen is mightier than the sword, I know this to be fact. Yet with all the power of the pen I have gained over the years I still feel like I can't win. Perhaps that is why the battle hurts me so much, that his words are my down fall when they are supposed to be my greatest weapon. What else do I have?

I never asked for this daily bout of torture, yet here I am.

And yet in this fight I have discovered how strong I am to have continued so long. I never thought I would make it this far. The old me would have never spit so many venomous words back in his face.

I wish I could just walk away, but the love I have for another binds me to him and his daily dose of poison.

Love and hate live a block apart . . .

Our trip to the ER

Another trip to the emergency room for us . . .

Sunday started out to be such a great day. We made a huge breakfast; bacon, eggs, juice, coffee, the works. Then we took the kids to the Sagebrush Arts Festival and Aria painted a shirt and made her own necklace. . . . then off to Penny's to buy her a new winter coat.

Then home for lunch time . . . I am in the kitchen making Aria a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and Mike is getting the baby to put him in his high chair to eat. Then I heard the thud . . . just a weird, undescribale sound. Then I hear Mike freaking out and the baby screaming. While on his way into the kitchen carrying baby Devin, Mike stepped on a building block and it rolled his ankle and he fell . . . he twisted his weight to protect the baby as much as possible, but, he smacked his head on the floor. The carpet at least, it was not tile thank God.

After awhile the baby starts to calm down and we try to feed him. He won't eat and he starts screaming again. That's when we decided to take him in to be examined. It was Sunday so of course the only place to go is the ER.
Being that he hit his head, they did X-rays and CAT scans on his neck and head, and everything looked fine. Devin just wanted to sleep. After a bunch of tests they tell us they can't find anything wrong and he is probably just sore from the jolt and just give him Tylenol.

So I decided to take the day off work Monday to stay home with him and comfort him. All day he just acted . . . different. Not like him at all. He is usually so active, and he would not roll over or sit up, and when I would move him or lift his legs to change him he would cry in pain. I decided that we could not wait for his follow up appointment the next day, something was wrong, we had to take him in that night.

When we get to the Children's clinic, we notice that his upper left leg is really swollen. Doc decides to do some X-rays, and about an hour later cannot find anything wrong. The X-rays looked fine. But, he had a feeling that we should not go home yet, there was something wrong . . . so he told us we needed to stay in the hospital overnight and get some more, better, higher technology X-rays in the morning.

Knowing that your baby is in so much intense pain, and not knowing what it is or what to do about it is one of the worst feelings in the world. I don't think I have ever felt so sick or helpless. And poor baby Devin, he just does not know what is going on, he is scared, hurt, and just wants to sleep but people keep poking him and pulling on his leg!

I stayed with him that night ... on one of those little fold out plastic chairs that could double as a sled . . . I was afraid to take my eyes off him, but he slept peacfully.

The next morning we took him down for more X-rays, and I could not be in the room, so all I could do was stand by the door and listen to him cry in pain for a half hour while they x-rayed his entire body.

A little bit later the results are in . . . a broken femur on his left leg. . . one of the hardest bones to break in the body. One of the first things that was said after that was that when ever there is an injury in a child, especially one so young, Child Protective Services needed to be called and a report needed to be filed. I broke down and cried like a baby in front of everyone in the hall, I didn't care. . . I couldn't help it. Not only does my 11 month old have a broken bone, but there is suspiscion that we did it intentionally. Ouch. Of course, it is procedure, they have to investigate every case to protect the ones that are really abuse cases, and I am grateful that they do.

You all know how I feel about child abuse!

The doctor says he will need what is called a spica cast . . . one that goes down his whole left leg, part of his right leg and clear up his belly. It is like a mini body cast. They had to sedate him to put the cast on, and it took about an hour.

A little bit before that, while Mike was out getting some stuff from home, a gal from CPS came in to interview me. She asked me where I worked, where Mike worked, if we are married, if there were any other kids in the house, etc. Then she told a story about a case she recently worked. A few months ago some parents brought in a 5 month old with a broken arm. They kept changing their story as to how it happened . . . then when they did more X-rays they found several more broken bones in this poor little baby. I can't imagine. And I told her that with tears in my eyes. After the interview, she said she believed that we did not intentionally hurt our child and that she just had to file the report so that no kids falls through the cracks. She said she would have to talk to Mike too.
We thought we would get to go home on Tuesday, but no, we had to stay another night in the hospital. Mike stayed with Devin this time so I could go home and spend some time with Aria.

We got to come home this morning. He has been given Tylenol with Codine. It knocks him out. He slept for four hours this afternoon. We got some sleep too. . . needless to say sleep has not something we have been getting a lot of the last few days.

We are getting used to carrying him with the big, bulky cast on . . . he is twice as heavy and it is really awkward cuz he legs are stuck out at a weird angle. He is so uncomfortable and there is nothing we can do about it but prop him up with pillows and give him lots of love. Changing a diaper is a whole different experience! The cast will be on for 4 to 6 weeks.

I have spent a lot of time asking why and how this could happen to us. Then I remember it could be worse. He could have a head or spinal injury, he could have a worse of a break. It is just a small crack in the bone, not even a complete break. The doc said it was very small.
I think of parents dealing with kids who have cancer or le
ukemia or something, or people with out health insurance or full time jobs, and I am thankful for what I have. It could always, always be worse. And these few weeks will go by so fast. We are strong, and we can handle this!

This too will pass.

Just an update

Since I have so many friends and family living afar, I think I should post a little update on how things are going here in Jennyville.

Our little Devin will be walking any day now. He pulls himself up to stand and then gets mad because he can't figure out how to get back down or what to do next. I need to get better at letting him work on it on his own, it is just instinct I guess to rush to his aid every time he makes a peep, but this is one he has to do on his own!

He has got to have a tooth or two coming in -- finally. His drool levels have been off the chart lately. I feel like I need to give him a bottle of water a couple times a day just so he won't get dehydrated!

His first birthday is coming up. We have to start planning a party! I can't wait to see what he does with the cake! Will he dive in or be afraid to get his hands dirty? We will see!

Aria starts first grade next week. She is registered at Jefferson Elementary, even though we are in Tendoy's region or whatever they call it. They had 19 extra first graders who had to find another school to go to. So since there was space at Jefferson we registered her there, which will actually work out nicely because I can drop her off on my way to work and she can ride the bus to her dad's house in the afternoon. We met her teacher, she seems nice and has a lot of experience.
We are going school shopping this weekend!
She is growing up and getting into girly things like nail polish and bracelets and such. She has even been asking me about what it feels like to get your ears pierced. Maybe she is almost ready!

Mike's work has been very steady, which is good for our financial situation, but then again I feel like I never see him some weeks! In a few weeks they will be going to Salmon for a few days and I will be on my own with the kiddos!

We are almost ready to start looking for a house. We found some "glitches" in Mike's credit history that we have been cleaning up, and we have been figuring out what we can afford. We would like a fenced yard and hopefully four bedrooms, but we could settle with three. A hot tub would be nice too. Just kidding . . . hot tub not necessary! But we are gonna be picky! Our realtor is gonna be sick of us before this is through!

I am still working at the Journal as the online and art and entertainment editor. Work has been extra stressful lately. I feel like no one understands the pressure I am under with the online stuff from the bosses. Of course I have to post breaking news ASAP to the Web site to beat the competition, but there is also the pressure of making all of the Journal's Web sites the best to sell to make the most money. But, alas, I am only one person and there are only so many hours in a day! It goes in phases, I will be really stressed out for a few weeks, then I chill out for awhile and then it builds again. That's when I know I need a day off! Thank God Labor Day weekend is coming up!

But I enjoy most of my job! I have phone numbers and am on a first name basis with a lot of really cool people, and there is something new everyday. And I am interviewing the Oak Ridge Boys next week! They are legends!

On a side note, while cleaning house to prepare for my grandma's upcoming yard sale, I found a bunch of my old journals. I have been enjoying reading about the various highs and lows of almost every week of my life since I was nine. Darn the writing bug . . . it has always been here.

Love ya all!
Jenny

Two trips to Tooth Town

Being the 6 year old that she is, Aria has started to lose her baby teeth. Three so far by my count. Recent trips to the dentist's office have let us know that she has some crowding in her mouth and will eventually need to have braces. Super. Orhodontist's office, here we come!

I was so proud of her yesterday! She was so brave at the orthodontist, not shedding a tear, just being the little chatterbox that she always is! Doctor tooth tells us that due to the crowding, her permenate teeth are coming in crooked. Plan? Remove a couple baby teeth to make room for the big boys. Simple enough. Doc even commented on one of Aria's loose teeth, a wibbly wobbly guy on the top of her little mouth. It will come out soon indeed! They had this cool little play area called Tooth Town, there was a molar coaster! Clever indeed.

Next, a trip to Fred Meyer to buy spaghetti sauce, ranch, bread and nail polish, just the necessities ... and a back to school outfit or two. We're done here, let's blow this popcicle stand! Aria wants to stand on the front of the cart. Not the front like facing me while I push the cart front, like standing in between my arms while I push the cart front. That's not really safe my dear . . . "But Mooooommmm, I am too tired to walk!" Moms, you know what I am talking about. You pick your battles. Fine, let's just get out of here.

The cart squeaks throught the narrow aisles of the apparell department, then CRASH! Where the hell did that damn support beam come from?! It jumped out from behind that clothing rack! Aria's now covered her face with her hands, and I pause, afraid to react, fearing the worst. Sure enough, underneath her little hands I see the liquid crimson that means she did indeed hit her face on the handle bar of the cart. Can't get any worse, right? WRONG! She pulls her hand away and extends it toward me, her eyes wide with fear. There it was, the little tooth, bloody and small. Oh my God, I knocked out one of my daughter's teeth.

So there I am, in the middle of a busy store with crying, bleeding child next to me. Ya, people looked at me like I was one of those stupid people I read about everyday who beat their kids in department stores. Never have I ever wanted to know the intercom code more than that moment: "Attention Fred Meyer shoppers, the child in the girl's apparell department has lost a tooth, she is not being smacked around by her panicked mother. Check out the specials in our meat department!"

The blood is really starting to flow now. What to do? I have no tissues, people are starring, she is bleeding and screaming, wait, there is a Starbucks in here! No, I was not craving an iced mocha. Where there is food service there is paper towels. The young man at Starbucks was so helpful, he deserves an award of some sort. Not only did he give us paper towels, he gave us a cup of ice, even though there were several people waiting in line. I need to go back and thank him!

The cart got left behind . . . (I always wondered why there were always carts full of merchandise left sitting around when I worked in retail. It's not gnomes, it's KIDS!)

The crisis was over after a few hours. Knowing that the Tooth Fairy would soon be making a pit stop at our house helped soothe her nerves. She was pretty mad at mommy though. I have been involved with more accidents in shopping carts than cars, thank God! But there was the, "mommy, why did you do that?" Well, kiddo, how do I explain that I love you more than life itself and just the sight of your blood pushes me to near fainting? I would never hurt you on purpose!

"Ya know how sometimes you get really excited and run up to me and step on my toes and it hurts me?"

"Ya...."

"You do not mean to hurt me, right? It is an accident."

"Ya..."

"It is like that, kiddo, me crashing into the pole at the store was an accident. I would never hurt you."

"But mommy, you need to watch where you are going, OK?'

"Ok, deal."

The ultimate proof of a promise follows: pinky swear.

The Tooth Fairy must have known how that little tooth under the pillow came to be out of that cute little mouth, because she left two dollars instead of the standard four shiny quarters. Her note to Aria told her to keep up the good work and not be mad at her mommy. :)

Move on to today . . .

We get home for the day and she quickly dashes to her room and shuts the door. Odd . . . but maybe she is just changing her clothes.
Moments later, she emerges, clutching her tiny treasure in her hands. Not a penny found on the sidewalk . . . ANOTHER TOOTH! This one came out the right way though . . . coaxed out with an eager pincer grasp from it's creator.

"The Tooth Fairy gets to come back tonight!"
She does indeed. And she is happy to do so.

Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder

The first time I found a gray hair it was kind of funny. But gray hairs are like top forty songs . . . ok at first but repetition gets old and you find yourself wondering why! Why was such a thing created!?
I have found more gray hairs in the last week than I have in the last year. They seem to be reproducing faster than the dust bunnies behind my computer. I used to tease my mom when she would pluck the little culprits from her head with a pair of tweezers: "If you keep pulling them you're gonna be bald!" Ha ha, ya now it is not so funny and I need to take my own advice.

But today my age hit me like a ton of Botox. We bought a Slip N'Slide yesterday, and my daughter really wants me to play on it with her. The problem? I have not tried on my swimming suit since before I was pregnant with Devin. While I have lost most of my post baby weight, let's just say things have uhhh, shifted. I put my fear aside and tried the suit on. The botton fits fine, but the top, now that is a different story. The girls were not exactly fitting comfortably in the spandex!

Ok, small blow to my self esteem. Not too bad... I can handle it. Then I go into the bathroom to put sunscreen on my face. That's when I saw it. An extension of the Grand Canyon on the left side of my face just below my cheek. I have never seen a wrinkle that deep before. But it wasn't just that, it was the suddeness of it! Where did it come from? Did the gray hairs talk you into this, you little annoying one? I swear it was not there last week, now suddenly it looks like The Joker has paid me a visit and decided to turn me into his likeness.

Now I have a cunundrum. I was going to go to the store to buy a new swimming suit that would keep the twins confined, but maybe I should get some face cream instead. Seriously, this thing can be seen from space.

It all hit me then. I am going to be thirty this year. I am not young anymore. I have all these clothes that I have been saving . . . thinking someday maybe I will be able to wear them again. There was once a time when you could see my abs! Yes, I had a six pack! Now I have stretch marks, my butt jiggles, one boob is bigger than the other, my back hurts and I am rarely awake past 10 p.m. 9 a.m. is like noon because I have already been up for hours. All I need now is to start vacuming my lawn and telling people driving by my house to slow down!

Bye bye skull and cross bone string bikini. (It is really cute, by the way) hello swiw suit cover up!

I must admit, it was quite the downer for a few hours. I went to Freddies to purchase the before mentioned swim suit, and saw these teenage girls with perfect little bodies that have never been through a pregnancy, let alone two! While shopping I kept stumbling across sizes 0, 3, 4, and I thought to myself, "who the hell wears a size 0?" After all, if such a creature did exist she has long been blown away by the fierce Idaho wind.

I finally found a swim suit (Do you have any idea how much these things cost! $68! Is spandex an endargered commodity? Damn!) I compromised. It is a two piece, and the back is open, but the front comes down in a sort of skirt form down to the bottoms part, so my girls are reigned in and the stretch marks are not flashing everybody.

I talked to my hubby later about finding a small canyon on my face, and he was quick to remind me, as the great husband he is, that he too is getting older. He always tells me that he has never been attracted to those super skinny girls. Who wants to hug a skeleton? And that he thinks I am beautiful the way I am. He has a way of putting things into perspective for me. It is just something in the way he puts things . . . swoon!

I slapped myself out of it (mentally of course!) and was able to tell myself that, ya, I am older, but hey, it is a part of life. I would never want to be 20, 21, 22 again. Those were some of the worst years of my life. I have strecth marks because I have two beautiful babies, and I would not trade them for cellulite, stretch marks, gray hair or aches and pains in the world. Those teenage girls I saw at the store think they have everything figured out, but they have no idea what love is!

I am wiser, I am smarter and I am happier than I have ever been. If life gets better with age, then bring on the birthdays!

At least I can still fit into the earings I wore in high school.

The end.

Do crazy people know they are crazy?

I love psychology. I love to watch people and figure out what makes them tick. Or not tick. Do crazy people know they are stark raving mad? The guy who has collected empty beer cans for 50 years thinks it is normal, but to a so called "normal" person, this is nuts. Have you ever tried looking at the other side?

I love watching those shows . . . Hoarders, The OCD Project, Intervention . . . (on the rare occasions when I can actually watch TV). Many people are fascinated by those shows, the number of them that exist prove that. But why? Part of it is the train wreck mentality; you just can't help but watch, but a bigger part of it, I think, is that we can all relate to the people in those shows, even if just a little bit. They make us all realize how close to insanity we all are at any given moment or on a day. Those people were not born that way, little triggers in their life caused them to start collecting or drinking or whatever.

Our minds are dangerously fragile. We all walk around thinking we are immune to the problems and vices that affect other people.

There are thousands of books and people with degrees, but no one can ever completely understand the human mind because there are so many different triggers.

What's your vice?
Crazy is subjective.