We Really Have No Idea!

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Events from last week's shootings in Newtown, CT have given people all across America and the world lots to think and talk about. I am no exception. But, perhaps my thoughts might be a tad different from some.

See, I can relate from both sides of this story. Having been a Kindergarten teacher, with a classroom that was literally the first room in the building, I get tears in my eyes thinking about what the children, teachers and staff went thru.The one video of the teacher who hid with all her students in the tiny bathroom... that really got to me. I, and all of my teacher friends, love the students. Truly. Heartbreaking.

Upon hearing of the news of the gunman and the family, I immediately had compassion for them. I have spent the last several years trying to convince myself, and accept, that my children's actions/behaviors are not a reflection of me. I can control what they say and do no more than a mother can keep her baby from throwing up or peeing. It's in them and it's going to come out.
I think the difference is that Rick and I have always pursued avenues to help L and J deal with their issues as healthily as possible, learn strategies to help them cope, have consequences that help them learn from their mistakes, hold them accountable for their decisions/actions/words. I refuse to hide in shame and stigma for brain disorders that my children have had since birth, illnesses that will last for their ENTIRE lives. That's why I'm so vocal about our struggles.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not blaming Adam Lanza's mom. Yes, things sound weird about what may have gone on in the home, but truly we have no idea. I bet many of you would be shocked to learn some of the things Rick and I have had to deal with.

Have you seen the article on the web, titled "I am Adam Lanza's mom". If you haven't, google it. This mom does a great job of explaining what parents of kids with mental illness go thru, let alone the children. After reading the article out loud to Rick, we looked at each other in silence for a minute and then Rick said, "Uh, THAT sounds familiar!". He's right, About 60-70 % of the situations this mom talks about we've experienced ourselves. And, unless you know us well, you probably wouldn't know this or even think it possible. Our children, in the safety zone of their own home, really exhibit their worst behaviors. It's scary.

When Josh was 4 and in preschool he started really showing signs of anxiety and anger. He had panic attacks and outburst often. He didn't hurt anyone but I know his tantrums took his teachers back. Believe it or not, one of his teachers, in trying to express her concern, told me that she wouldn't be surprised if Josh grew up to be like Dylan Klebold or Eric Harris. Or Adam Lanza. That's never left me, kinda scarred me really. I know what she meant to say but her words really stung.

Sometimes I'm really glad that Lauren is not a boy. She has a bad temper and if she had testosterone in her system...

Lauren does not show ANY signs of acting out towards others, only towards the person she is dealing with and is not letting her have her way. That person is usually me or Rick. It gets incredibly weary but I'm glad she doesn't lash out at strangers.

I bet that is what Adam Lanza's mom thought too. God only knows what hell she has gone thru with him - all the while trying to love him, care for him, get him help, home school him when public school didn't work (like it doesn't for many of us) and be the best mom she could be. Ok, you might say that she seemed pretty out there herself. I can tell you, with absolute surety, that that mother has been put thru things she never ever dreamed of when she held her newborn, sweet little baby, named Adam. The fallout from mental illness is enough to break a person pretty quickly and easily. I know this from experience.

I guess, all I'm trying to say is, while you mourn the lost lives of 26 people, have some empathy and understanding for Adam Lanza and his family. That family could be your neighbors, your friends from church, your co-workers, YOU!

So, as Christmas approaches, please be in prayer and thought about all 27 people, the 20 little souls, 6 courageous adults, and Adam Lanza,  in CT, that grieving community, other families dealing with mental illness and our country, as it tries to learn a lesson from this tragedy.

Merry Christmas and Peace on Earth!

Por Favor

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You like what I write? Get notified. You don't like what I write? Why are you still here? :)

Laugh Twice and Call Me in the Morning!

 

Yes, I know. My posts are sad, dreary and depressing. There is no denying that our family has had a bit more of our share of difficult things to deal with. Oh well. No pity party today. No pity party most days.

So why share all this depressing stuff? Well, that's what's happening. How could it be my blog if I didn't share my stuff. While I share with you my thoughts, fears, my life, I also like to share the fun.  I'm not moping around ALL of the time. I laugh a lot. Really, I do!

Laughter really IS the best medicine.

Those of you who know me well know that I love to laugh. I laugh often and I have been told on a few (ahem!) occasions that my laugh is loud and weird. I like to think it is amusing and distinctive. If my laugh is weird then that gives you just that much more to laugh about. I'm here to entertain.

So, here are a few things that make me laugh:

 Here's another one!

 

 

We took this photo when we were in Utah, last Christmas. Yum!

 

Can't you just hear them saying these lines? Thanks, LaSchel, for the calendar!

 

 Rick and I got to go on an amazing work-related trip to NYC last Feb. We were put in an incredible suite in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. This was the panel on the wall next to the heated toilet seat. Yes, the warmed water did oscillate!

 

When I say it, I just can't do it 'Joey justice' 

 

I used to have fingerprints of little people on the backseat windows. Now I have these!

 

 

Recently, I heard a saying... A laugh is a smile that has exploded. I'm glad not all explosions are bad.



 

 

Sorry, Charlie Brown.

Grieving is hard. It's like a pus-filled wound. At times, it seems to be getting better and healing. Then, out of nowhere, it flares up, becomes painful and you can't stop thinking about it. The only way to make it go away is to pay attention to it, clean out all of the yucky stuff and wait for it to heal.

Good Grief!

Lots of wounds right now. The wound of Lauren's issues is different than my other ones. It's active, constantly being picked at and reopened. Let's just say, "That's gonna leave a mark". Oh yea.

My others.... I have names for them: Dad, Mom and Hilary.

We've been so worried about Lauren that I haven't really had down time to grieve Dad. I miss him very much! I miss his beaming smile, the shape of his eyebrows when he would try to be cranky with me but I wouldn't take the bait. I miss that distinctive voice, with the accent that many try to mimic. Everyone says Rick does the best 'Joe' voice and I believe them, but I just didn't hear it. I only heard the voice of my daddy.

I miss him so much that at times I just want to walk around, telling strangers "My dad died. He's gone. My dad passed away in July. Did you know my dad is gone?". It's like I want people to hurt as much as I do. It's weird, I know. I was driving on I-45 and saw a man holding a cigarette out the window. His hand looked like Dad's hand. Not his face, not the car, just that left hand. I didn't want to take my exit. I wanted to follow Dad's hand.

I took my correct exit.

When we packed up my dad's assisted-living,Susie and I divided the remaining items between us. One of the things I ended up with was an almost-full Kleenex box. I bought it for him on July 2nd, when I did the last grocery shopping for him at the Kroger on Echo Lane and I-10. The color of the box doesn't match my house, but when I put it on my bathroom counter I could smell something familiar. My dad's cologne. Over the past few months I've used a tissue or two. Once I realized that the box was getting empty I stopped using them, choosing to go to another room to get a Kleenex. At times, I would instantly grab one from that box and then regret that I had done it. Silly, I know. But, grief is silly and messy and makes you savor one last Kleenex in a box.

The box is empty now. I'll throw it away.... soon. When I'm ready. Ouch. My booboo hurts.

I went to that same grocery store for the first time a few weeks ago. I went to pick up things for dinner, after getting Josh from school. It was hard to not put my usual purchases in the basket: feta cheese, endives, grapes, Stella beer, grape tomatoes, dates, pita bread, juice, etc. As I turned down aisles I saw images of Dad on an electric shopping cart and the 2 of us trying to figure out how to steer it. I chuckled to myself when I got to the magazine aisle where I got Dad stuck. Like Austin Powers driving that golf cart in his movie. Move 2 inches forward, turn as much as possible, reverse. Repeat. Remembering was funny and sad all at the same time.

My wound really hurts. Makes me think of my mom kissing my bruises to make the pain go away.

Thinking about Dad makes me miss Mom as well. I'm a 47 year old orphan. I have no parents. It just doesn't feel right. It's just wrong.

My ouchie, named Hilary is really flaring up. It's coming up on a year since my smart, giggly, talented, stubborn, beautiful, techno geek friend disappeared from our lives. Last Thanksgiving was her last holiday. A year ago this weekend, she had a great time with family, including her brother. She posted about seeing the new Muppet movie. Which makes me think of Zach singing The Rainbow Connection, which makes my throat hurt and my eyes burn.

A year ago, Sunday, I picked up Zoe from cheer practice and got dinner for her and Hilary at Panera Bread. I bought gingerbread man cookies. Hilary ate some of her soup bread bowl and about half of the cookie, while we watched her recordings on DVR. She fell asleep and I just watched her. She opened her eyes and we talked some more.

It's like I'm playing the DVR version of the last week of November and the first week of December of 2011 in my head. It makes me cry. But I can't turn it off. It hurts and feels good all at the same time, kind of like rubbing that canker sore on your tongue with your teeth. You just can't help it.

Sorry, this post is kinda gross. I must have been a surgeon's daughter! :)

I guess this is how I clean out my Hilary wound. It's the path to healing.

I guess Lucy was right. Good grief!






 

PATHETIC -----> PATH

Was writing in my journal today...so much crap going on. My dad's death is actually one of the easier things to deal with right now!

Things are worse than ever with Lauren. Don't want to get into details. I'm scared out of my mind. I wrote "PATHETIC" , in all caps, to describe my raw feelings about life right now. The first thing that jumped right out at me was "PATH". 

Wow. It took me back. Surprised me. Made me hold my breath for a minute.

PATH

That's not a negative thing. Here I am having a word/feelings dump in my journal and, low and behold, something positive rises to the top.

PATH

I call that God. So many people on this planet call it so many other things... luck, Jehovah, karma, Allah, Divine intervention, shit happens. Doesn't matter to me just as long as I recognize it. 

I have struggled so much with my faith for the past few years. I have learned a lot, like... just because I am a Christian doesn't mean life will be rosy, in fact it's destined for challenges, to mold me, have me learn and grow, give me opportunities to practice what I believe, in spite of how I feel. Learned that a church is just a building filled with human beings, all of whom, like me, make mistakes and sometimes don't act with as kind, respectful and loving of a nature as I would have hoped for. To be hurt, rejected and treated badly by some people in my church of 22 years, the only church home I've ever had, has been very painful. But, it made me see more clearly the church family that is not part of that group, the amazing qualities in them that keep them separated from the others and how to be more like them. Taught me to let go of anger and grudges, of expectations I had of others that were not mine to have. It has made my faith in God stronger, much to my surprise.  

So many times, thousands of times, I have prayed for L & J to be helped, to have some of/all of their burdens lifted, to have them blessed with peace, grace, gentleness of spirit, body and mind, and soul. I pray for their total healing, just in case God decides to pull another Lazarus or Red Sea. How can I not. I'm a mom desperate to help my children!

PATH

I know many of our prayers have been answered by bringing loved ones and friends, physicians, support people, those able to give love, support, guidance, expertise into our lives. 

However, I still feel like our family keeps drawing one of the short straws in life. Not all of them, I know. Just more than our fair share. Sorry but I'm just gonna be honest here. Aren't you tired of finding out the crap that keeps happening in our family? Aren't you just a bit, or more than a bit, afraid to ask us how we're doing? Tired of seeing me cry? ME TOO!

So, when I feel like you and I have had enough of our pity party I retreat. I stop answering the phone. I don't reach out to people. I stay home, in my pj's, and sleep or watch mindless tv to keep me from thinking about the mess that is our life. Rick tells me all the time how grateful he is to be able to go to work, to get away, to rejuvenate, to be in a normal setting where things mostly go well, with people who typically follow the rules of social graces. I am so happy for him to have this. I am so grateful he has such a wonderful job that allows me to not have to work and be able to focus on each crisis. I am envious at the same time.

A silver lining in my Dad's passing, is that now I will have more time to focus on what I need to do to take better care of myself and move on to the next phase of my life. Thank God I can still see the positives. 

PATH



PATHETIC = PATH? Depends on what I want to do. I surely do not plan on giving up. I don't want to live at 6422 Pathetic Place all my life. So, I've been presented with a path. What type? I don't know. Where is it going? Have no clue. Am I going down it? You betcha. 

Walk and Talk like an Egyptian

He looked like he was sleeping. A bit pale, a bit cold. I pulled the covers up to his shoulders to keep him warm, and crawled into bed next to him. One last time cuddling with my dad.

My dad always had this habit of falling asleep in his chair, with the remote in one hand, mug of hot tea in the other, and that certain look of his mouth as he began to snore. Susie and I would watch how close his tea would get to being spilled as he relaxed. Most of the time, he managed to hold it together.

Today, he let go. Finally.

I put my hand on his chest. There was no heartbeat, no breathing, not even a tremble. Obviously, its not natural to feel that stillness, that quiet, in a person. But, this was my dad and somehow it just worked. It was like magic. I pictured his heart beating, not in his body, but in his rising spirit, the spirit now as one, at peace, with my mom.

I lay there next to him for a while and cried. Then, Susie, David, Rick and I joined hands with Dad and prayed for the wonderful news of Dad and Mom being together again. I really bawled when David spoke. This "at times too serious" engineer brother-in-law of mine wept as he spoke of my dad and what he meant to him. I'm not surprised. We all know the mushy David is in there. Every word spoken by the 4 of us was just perfect, including the giggles at things remembered, me sneezing in the middle of it, and the funeral director knocking on the door saying they were ready for Dad. The only thing missing was a dog throwing up in the background. My dad would have rolled his eyes in frustration or he might have joined in on the silliness with one of his funny faces. Holy moments can be found everywhere!

During the past few months, Dad has been teaching me this phrase in Arabic. It phonetically sounds like 'Sabah hanoor alal bahnoor', with that ckah noise that comes from the back of your throat (like you're coughing up a hair ball) in just the right places. I learned to say it just right but he wouldn't tell me what it meant! I wondered if he had taught me a bad word and asked him all the time to translate. He just smiled and shook his head. He was happy to hear Arabic being said back to him.

My cousin told me it means 'Good morning, sunshine!'. I bet my dad heard that today as he began his new life in Heaven.

On Friday night, as I stayed with him, he became restless around 4:00 am. He was determined to get out of bed because he had an appendectomy to do. I tried to coax him to lie back down but he told me the anesthesiologist was ready for him. He had an appendectomy to perform. He talked about making a lateral incision in the lower right quadrant, thru the muscle. He told Susie she could scrub in. He talked about anesthesia and analgesia. Susie had to explain that part to me. He said he would do purse-like suturing, so that there would be minimal scaring.

You always return to what you knew first and what you know best!

As family talked today, we realized Dad assisted in saving the lives of 4 family members. He helped my cousin Jana get emergency surgery when the doctors didn't know/wouldn't do further examination to see what was wrong with her. He ordered bloodwork,on a hunch, on my cousin Michelle, and found out she had leukemia. Another cousin's 3 day old baby, Tony, was screaming and not feeding well. He quickly rushed Nevine's newborn into emergency surgery for a strangulated hernia and did a bowel resection. Then, after Rick's heart valve surgery, complications arose on the way home from the hospital. I called the doctor and they said it was probably a reaction to moving around more than usual. I called Dad, he and my Uncle Raouf(an ob/gyn) came over,
diagnosed Rick with severe tachycardia and other heart rhythm problems. Next thing I knew, they picked Rick up, put him in our car, wrapped their arms around him, and cradled his head, while I drove and they yelled in Arabic to any car that dared get in my way.

By the end of this week all 4 of these people, along with everyone else who loved Dad, will gather to say goodbye. What a legacy he has left for us!

I was crying as I started writing this post. I didn't want it to be tomorrow because I didn't want to start my first day without him. Well, it is now after midnight, a new day has begun and I have survived. I get a lot of my strength from my dad. I'll go on, doing the next right thing, each day.

So, in case I don't talk to you tomorrow morning, oops... I mean THIS morning, Sabah hanoor alal bahnoor!

My dad...

He's dying...

He's more than ready. He's been ready since Sept. 27, 2010, the day my mom passed away. All he ever wanted was to be with my mom... and for them to be happy. That happiness eluded my mom, consequently leaving my dad in the same position. He'll get his wish very soon.

It's been so hard to watch Dad decline. He stares at his hand, the one he did surgery with, the one he saved lives with... only to see that he hasn't been able to even hold a fork since his 4 strokes in early '07. Gone is the independence, the spouse, many friends, the house, the garden, the car, the dog that he cannot care for (Maggie lives with us now). Everything my dad owns is in his small apartment in the assisted living part of The Forum.

Books, magazines, a tv, a plant, a few clothes, meals in the dining room cannot sustain a man. When the body fails, dignity flies out the window and the life spirit dries up, what are you left with? Not a whole lot.

Susie and I have put everything we could into being there for Dad. We wouldn't have it any other way. Dealing with his frustrations, his loneliness, his 3-5 calls per day every day and watching the man who scooped you up as a child fade away is not for the weak. He is SO worth it!

Memories of your hand being so little, and his so big, that all you could hold was his pinky. Memories of falling asleep in the car (well, almost asleep) and knowing that he was going to pick you up in his arms and carry you to bed. Walking you down the aisle, holding your new baby, loving your husband like a son, saying what a fine person you've become and he's proud to be your dad.

Now it's Depends, smoothies because it hurts for him to swallow food, bed changes and morphine drops.

As I've stayed beside him all day today (Susie took yesterday's shift). I have heard him moan a lot. It made me think.... he's had morphine, he says he has no pain... So why all the moaning. I saw the same with my mom and with Hilary, although morphine doesn't do the trick when you're dealing with the cancer monster.

Still, they've all moaned. Made me think... Dying is hard. Letting go is hard. Maybe as you take a step down this new, brightly-lit path and although you feel warm gushy love up ahead your heart moans every time you turn around to look backwards. Leaving behind your loved ones, blue sky, green trees, sounds of a river flowing, hearing a child laugh...all hard. Even if you know where you're going and who will be waiting on the other side, leaving behind all you've ever known is tough business. That would be enough to make me moan.

I don't know how much time he has left. Days.... A week or two...

So here I'll stay, soaking up every ounce of him I can... every freckle, how he furrows his brow, his ear-to-ear smile, how he can still pinch with his toes, his silly voices, him mumbling in Arabic (because you return to what you knew first), the image of me holding his hand, the smell of his cologne, how I probably need to clip his fingernails one last time. ONE LAST TIME!

I'm bracing myself. Calm on the outside, shaking like a leaf on the inside. I've said everything I needed and wanted to say. We both KNOW what a special bond we have.

Parting is but sweet sorrow.

Love you, Dad!!

Love, Bethy

Where is that remote???

It's time now for THE RAINEY DAYS OF OUR LIVES....we apologize for the interruption of shows.....beyond our control.....system overload


So, on the last few episodes of A Rainey Kind of Day (the Drama channel, daily at 5:00 pm CST, 6:00 pm Eastern, 3:00 pm on the West Coast) Josh was in Utah, Beth and Rick were talking of Lauren going to a program in California and and life was in a lulled, low key turmoil.


Most of you saw the previews on Facebook of upcoming episodes, I'm sure. Lauren left for the OPI program in CA, around the 3rd week of Feb. and Beth and Rick had a month to themselves. Our lead characters did not go jetting off for trips, well, only one to NYC, they did not go out to lavish dinners or party it up with friends. No, they crawled into bed and licked.... Oh, you naughty people. This is not an R rated kind of drama!!! No, they licked their wounds and enjoyed the stillness of their home.



It had been a long time since the house on Sunrise Glen had seen such peace. The rooms no longer echoed with the sounds of slamming doors, disrespectful behavior or tears. The couple enjoyed the quietness and the freedom from worry for the first time in several years. (think back to seasons 1-4)


By the end of March, Josh was ready to return to his homeland. He set his bearded jaw, grabbed his shoe lace-less shoes and jumped back into life. He had never lived at home without his older sister, so a new normal started to emerge. There were dinners for 3, along with nice talks, and therapeutic conversations. School started back up, family therapy resumed and the Raineys felt hope and happiness return to their lives.


However, there was a familiar villain in town. CAMERA 1... Dramatic close up with that spooky music....ACTION! He's hiding around corners and lurking in the back seat of the cars. The Raineys had seen this stalker before. They filed a retraining order (home contracts)and brought in the SWAT team (the Tarnow Center) to rid their lives from this frequent visitor.


DRAMATIC PAUSE.........followed by a message brought to you by the makers of Starbucks, Wellbutrin and dark chocolate.



So, recap... Josh left, Beth cried, Rick hugged Beth, Lauren left, Beth cried, Rick hugged Beth, Beth and Rick rested, Josh returned, and the villain (known well on the
Drama channel as mental illness) was spotted back into the neighborhood. The family knew he never really left in the first place. The Raineys though he might have moved a couple of houses down, but no. That other familiar face turned out to be... DU DU DUUUUUH!...the villain's twin brother, Depression. He looked quite different because he had had a face transplant by Dr. Drake Remoray, and had his hair colored by his stepSister-in-law's half cousin's best friend, named Kitty Von Kat!!!!



As the sands of time drop slowly from the hour glass, the family buckles up, puts on their steeled-toe combat boots and heads into battle, with a crowd of Canuks and Texans waving flags in support.


So.... These are the Rainey Days of Our Lives! Tune in tomorrow to see God Knows Best, the longest running show on cable channel 47 (available all day, every day, in every time zone)!



That's a wrap

72!

So, I said I would write about marriage, Rainey style. We've been married for over 23 years now, and it definitely has not been easy. In fact, at times I wasn't sure we would make it. And, at the same time, it's been THE BEST relationship I've ever had with another human being and I wouldn't trade it for the world!

When Rick and I met, I was a very different person then. My family can attest to this. It was 1984, my sophomore year of college at UT in Austin. I was not as shy as I was my freshman year but I was still very timid about life and my part in it.

Rick was handsome, funny, charming, did I mention handsome and funny? Yes, I laughed a little too hard at his humor, but sometimes it was because I didn't even understand the reference or joke. I wasn't dumb, just quite sheltered. We'd only been in the US for 2 years, and before that my hometown of Parry Sound, Canada was 5,000 population, we had 3 channels with an antenna/rotar, and our movie theatre played 1 movie for 2 weeks, before the next one came.

Rick introduced me to all kinds of music, like Chicago, U2, etc, more than just the stuff on MTV, back when MTV played music! I saw movies like Clockwork Orange (um, quite shocking for me), Alfred Hitchcock films, the Maltese Falcon, Blade Runner and more. Of course I loved music and movies but my repertoire was more of a pop culture thing.

I learned to better understand and like baseball, have watched every Jim Carrey movie out there (multiple times {SIGH}) and love to eat at James Coney Island and Chik-fil-la all because of this "boy"!

I think the biggest thing Rick did for me was give me confidence. Confidence that I was worth loving, that I had good thoughts, that I was someone worth knowing and listening to. I was severely lacking in these areas and Rick gave me a great gift. In fact he may have created a monster!! I actually still struggle with confidence, but many of you wouldn't know it. Right? Go ahead, it's okay to agree. I know!

I think, in a way, we've switched places. He was the outgoing, funny, social one and I was more reserved, afraid to let people know who I was, very concerned about what people thought of me. Now, I don't mean we've done a complete reversal. I just happen to be the more outgoing, positive, outspoken one and Rick is more reserved. He's not quite sure how i manage to stike up a conversation with people in public and come away knowing that the lady in line at the grocery store has a child with Asperger's, the salesperson at Macy's has a friend whose daughter went to school with Josh or that the pest control guy used to live in the neighborhood of the school I taught in and his neighbor's kid was in my class and is now in college! I know. I'm weird.

Somehow, throughout all of our trials, tribulations, crises, ups and downs, we've managed to stay together. The odds aren't in our favor. Did you know that approx. 80% of marriages fail if just one of the children has a serious mental illness? After all we've gone through, I think it's a miracle were still together.

Thank God for Carol & Steve LaBonte, Dr. Roche and Dr. Tarnow. Because of these fine professionals we've learned to communicate, understand each other and deal better with each others' weaknesses. We've taught each other a lot! I think Rick may have learned more than he ever wanted to know! There's this look that comes over his face, where his eyes glaze over, mouth has this funny tilt to it and I realize that if I don't stop and explain, or just plain stop, he may start to drool.

Or, there are the times when I'm frustrated and have learned, most of the time, to not bite Rick's head off. Like when he can't find something in the pantry. I say "It's on the 3rd shelf from the bottom, on the left side, between the rice and the Mac n' Cheese," and he still can't find it. I walk over, point to it and he swears he looked there.

I think the most important thing about staying married is that you BOTH want the marriage to work more than you want to be right. When we argue and I know I'm wrong I want to apologize, well, most of the time, because I would rather be on the same page with Rick than stand my ground. Not easy, just simple. Put WE ahead of ME.

72. Never had the number 72 tell more about people than during the past few months. Rick and I no longer have to share our anniversary with Kim Kardashian and her newest ex. The number 72, in relation to the number of DAYS they were married, tells us a lot about their character, doesn't it?

How about 72 years! That's almost how long Rick's grandparents, Mema and Papa, have been married. We heard an interesting story about what went on with them on Christmas Day.

So, Papa makes these awesome sweet, hot pickles. He makes them, Mema puts them in jars and they were giving them to some people for presents. Apparently, a few days before Christmas, Papa dropped a jar of pickles, cleaned it up the best he could, being 94 yrs old AND being a man. A day or two later, Mema, who's 90, steps on something sticky, aaaaaand, she's off.....

She's mad that Papa didn't clean it up to her satisfaction, that a jar broke in the first place and that now she's convinced that when Papa broke the other jar, glass shards flew all over and that now there's glass in the sealed pickles jars, on a shelf 5 feet off the ground. Ah, yep! Don't ask! Just trust me that she really believed there was glass in the other unopened pickle jars.

Apparently, this arguement occurs at home, then continues during Christmas dinner and picks up where they left off back at their home later that evening. Rick's uncle gets a frantic phone call from Mema, saying she's locked herself in the bathroom because Papa has gone crazy. Randy heads over and is greeted at the door by Papa, in his jammies, having no clue what's going on. Randy got Mema out of the bathroom, she said they were arguing about the pickles and that Papa couldn't take Mema's nagging any more and he wanted a divorce. Going on 72 years of marriage and he wanted a divorce! Randy worked his magic, as he always does, Papa agreed to calm down and stop scaring Mema, so she wouldn't have to hide in the bathroom, and Mema agreed to not nag Papa so much. They kissed and all was well!

72. It can tell you a lot. I hope we make it to 72. We just might!

Love you, Ricky. You stud-muffin, you!

Stand By - There's More to Come

Some posts that will make their blog debut in the near feature:

* some winter/snow awesome memories

* marriage, Rainey style

* update on our kids

* whatever else creeps into this wild brain of mine!

Ta Ta for now.

Like Unzipped Pair of Jeans! Aahhhhhh!

Did you know we're moving? Yes, tis true! To a colony. Check it out...

http://m.youtube.com/index?desktop_uri=%2F&gl=US#/watch?v=thp4KhiXe0s"
YouTube > Colony-of-Losers.com presents "Come out, Come Out Wherever You Are"

Thanks to my cousin, Neil, for sharing with me!

It's been weird since Josh went to Utah. We went from many people having no idea the extent of Josh's mental illness, bipolar disorder, to being completely open about his and Lauren's struggles. We just talk about it as if it's a common place thing. And, actually, it is!

*"Approximately 57.7 million Americans experience a mental health disorder in a given year. One in 17 lives with a serious mental illness such as schizophrenia, major depression or bipolar disorder and about one in 10 children live with a serious mental or emotional disorder"

*NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) www.nami.org

There is a freedom that's come from sharing with others about our life. I don't feel the stigma of mental illness on our family. I feel unburdened. Unashamed. Understood better. Don't get me wrong. I'm not, nor have ever been, ashamed of my children. I love them to pieces. I know you know that.

I guess it's like wearing a tight article of clothing. You feel okay wearing it, but when you unzip or take it off, you realize how constricted you were. I feel like a stomach "coming out" of an unzippered pair of jeans. Free!

Free to be just who and what we are, as a family, as parents, as human beings. Not holed up in our house afraid to talk about our issues, afraid that we'd be a total drag to our friends because we have nothing but our screwed up lives to share (Come on, you know it's true. You ARE afraid to ask 'How's it going?') hehehe!

But, I haven't been totally honest. I know you LOVE IT when I'm totally honest, right!!!

It's not just my kids that are moving to the colony. It's me too. Ive suffered with major depression for a few years now. At first, we (me, Rick, Dr. Roche, Dr. Tarnow) thought it was situational. I mean who wouldn't be out of their mind living our life! It's been a battle since 1995, getting worse in 2003, and really been a "neverending pit of crap" since 2007! 'Tis true, I'm afraid to say. So true.

Who knows! Maybe one day I won't feel depressed. Not holding my breath here. In this case, the apple didn't fall far from the tree with my parents, to me and to the kids. Um, to Rick's family... you're DNA is not off the hook either! :) Regardless of where "It" came from, we've just gotta deal. Like I've said before, MENTAL ILLNESS SUCKS!

But, I know my kids and I are not the only ones. There are a lot of people out there going thru some of,or worse than, our struggles.

So... like Michael Kimber says 'COME OUT, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE'! The colony is certainly not always the best or easiest community to live in, but you won't be alone, you've got some pretty awesome neighbors and you might just be inspired! AND, no tight jeans are allowed!

All For Her

Like the hat? I love it! Why, because it belonged to Hilary. It's hers, but I've been wearing it lately.


You see, for the last few months, since August, I've been busy. Not just with regular stuff, or regular Rainey stuff, but with helping my friend as she died. What a horrible and holy labor of love!


I'm sure you can guess why it was horrible. I hate cancer! It took my lively, bubbly, determined, beautiful friend and filled her every moment with fear, pain, and agony. I watched as she took chemo and radiation, vomited and had exhaustion, endured pulmonary embolisms (which we realized began in my car but we figured she was dizzy and out of breath because she had been in her hospital bed too long), and have pain so bad that OxyContin and oxycodone together couldn't touch it. She was such a fighter. She called that part of herself "Heidi". You did NOT want to mess with Heidi! Hilary/Heidi fought so hard against the illness, for herself, for Wayne, Zach and Zoe. She was so determined to not leave her family behind. At the end she fought with every breath.


So, what's holy about all of this? Watching Hilary say "I love you too!" to her kids right up to the last day, even though she had been almost non-responsive since Monday. Watching Wayne hold her hand and gaze at her, with tears in his eyes. When he had to give her pain meds and needed her to wake up a bit, he'd call her name, she would stir almost immediately, in some fashion, her eyelids would flutter and Wayne would say, with a big smile on his face "There's my girl!". He hardly left her side during the last few weeks. I watched their cats hover around her hospital bed, especially on the last day. We had to keep moving them off of her legs. Animals are a lot smarter than we give them credit for. What holy moments I saw!


Had a few myself, while holding her hand, rubbing lotion on her bald head to get rid of the itchies, trimming and filing her nails because she didn't like her nails long, and because she knew how fastidious I am about fingernails. :) I talked, hoping she could hear me (pretty sure she did), about the day, how Zoe's cheer practice went, anything I wanted to say to her. Listened to music Wayne had set up on her laptop for her to hear. Switched the Pandora channel from worship music to Journey a few times.


The last thing Hilary, Wayne and the kids needed was me bawling my eyes out. Hilary didn't like crying, or the sad puppy-dog eyes she would get as a cancer patient while out in public. She was fighting it and she wanted no pity! So, i sucked it up and was my friend's friend. I felt very blessed to be let in, to help. The family did me such a great honor by allowing me to help them, be there, do chores, drive places and be Hilary's friend up until the end. I saw my main role as Hilary's comedian. She and I laughed and reminisced about children's choir, UM ARMY, youth choir trips, our children, you name it! We sang a few children's choir songs, talked about the Journey/REO Speedwagon concert Amy, Hilary and I went to, and scavenger hunts with youth!


And then there was the hat. We both loved Sesame Street and The Muppets from our childhood and could, at any moment break into this:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N_tupPBtWQ


Hilary had lots of hats and scarves to keep her head warm and covered. They were in a basket attached to her bed and were useful props for our laughing sessions. Last Monday night, I was wearing the Oscar the Grouch hat. Hilary opened her eyes, looked at me and said sarcastically "You look beautiful, Beth!". That was the last time she talked to me.


The service today was so beautiful. Kathy's beautiful words, Amy's solo, the beautiful music sung by a loving choir family, the pink roses, Wayne wrapping his strong arms around his children, Zoe's poem, Zach singing/playing 'The Rainbow Connection' (the Steinerts and Tim, Hilary's brother, went to see the new Muppets movie recently. Hilary sweetly cried during this song). She didn't cry today. She was the proudest mom in Heaven, watching her children's loving tributes to her.


At the reception, the Oscar the Grouch hat and her Cheshire Cat hat were on a table of pictures and other mementos. I put on one and Amy wore the other. I must have been a sight! I had cried off all my makeup, looked exhausted and wore this crazy hat on my head. Doesn't matter to me. We did it for Hilary, to laugh with our friend, all the way to the end of her journey.


Thank you, Wayne, Zoe and Zach. Thanks, Hilary. I love you.

Polar Opposites? Maybe not!

There's a lot on my mind tonight. Feeling kind of numb. What I AM aware of is that there is something to be learned in everything and there's beauty and love in every crisis.

Today I witnessed absolute love and devotion in the midst of a life in the process of passing on. There was such beauty in every touch, word spoken, hand held, glance met. I've never experienced things like this before. Truthfully, I'm stunned and kind of having an out-of-body moment. How can there possibly be something magnificent in the middle of death?

A lot of people have there own opinions and answers. Mine is a 3-letter word. GOD! Who else could give me such a sense of wonder?

As I drove home tonight I noticed how black the sky is, and how bright and beautiful the moon and stars are. If I hadn't been overwhelmed and not needed any extra stimuli, I probably would have had the radio or iPod playing, rushing to get home. Instead I was silent (ya, I know. Hard to believe!!) and driving slowly (hush now!). Only in that space could I see the sky and the Heavens, the silhouette of huge oak trees and... a falling star.

Thank you, God, for this night, for what I witnessed, the precious moments with someone very near and dear to my heart and soul and the special bond we have that goes beyond words and, if I'm lucky, beyond this earthly realm. I will treasure this always!

To Quote Sponge Bob...

DBT. Dialectical behavioral therapy. This is a specific type of therapy helpful with Josh and Lauren's diagnoses, it's what they do at Youth Care in Utah and what Lauren and I are studying at The Tarnow Center. We then teach it to Rick so we all know the info.

Radical Acceptance. Accepting that at this specific time and place, this is where I am and how things are. Sounds easy. Not really.

I have a lot of things I need to accept. You'd think I'd have already done that by now, but that's not totally true. I have come to realize, and be ok with, many situations but I have a long way to go.

One of the things I've accepted is the situation in which I grew up in and know, REALLY know my parents loved me and did the best they could. I am at peace with all of that. Because of my radical acceptance of this situation, I could give my mom the love, care and understanding she needed her last few years and why I can be there for Dad now. I'm very grateful for it, as I know with my mom, and will know with my dad when he's gone, that I did all I could for them, with no regrets.

I thought I had accepted my kids' diagnoses. However, recently I came to the realization that I was under the impression that if I worked my tail off giving them all possible opportunities to learn healthy life tips and coping strategies while young, they would have SOME difficulties but be much less affected.

I was wrong!

They still are in anguish, with more serious life situations, and I'm having trouble accepting this fact. I really don't WANT to accept it, tbh. Hehehe. Like that? See i'm still hip. I know what tbh is! Except I think that saying 'I'm hip' negates it all.

Ok. What was I saying?

This is a new level of grief, I think. Somehow my mind messed with me, or maybe it was my heart, that said if I did everything possible for Lauren and Josh they would be just like everyone else's teenagers. I know, I know!!! But typical sounds wonderful to me!

This is an example of not having radical acceptance! Now, life as it is, with both kids struggling, is the truth staring me down. I don't like it at all.

We got thru Thanksgiving without Josh. I only had 1 small tearful moment, but then it was time to go volunteer at George R Brown, and then pick up Dad. Glad Dr. Roche suggested volunteering. Really took me out of my thoughts.

But now, I don't want to decorate for Christmas. Josh isn't here and he should be! How can I decorate, how can we do the tree without all 4 of us here, drinking egg nog, listening to Johnny Mathis's Christmas album? It seems like I shouldn't do it because he won't be here to enjoy it. I'm being mean by having Christmas without him here.

THIS is radical acceptance! Josh is NOT here. Rick, Lauren and I are. I can't sit and feel sorry for myself. I need to be here for my husband, daughter and dad. Christmas is coming whether I like it or not. We will see Josh in Utah for a few days but he won't be home.

Please don't tell me to be grateful for what I DO have. I'm not trying to be rude, just honest. I do know what I'm lucky to have. Mostly we're blessed that Josh is still alive and is in an excellent facility, helping him to recover. That's my present. Insurance is paying in full, for now. That's a huge blessing. Also, Lauren is willing to work on her "stuff" and hopefully a job will come through for her, to keep her on a regular schedule and give her a sense of accomplishment.

Que sera sera. I always did think Doris Day was a little too perky.

I have other issues to come to terms with that affect me hugely. Some family issues; NO, not the growing up ones, more recent ones! Keep up with me, okay??

Some family relationships are not as I'd wish. Yea, I know, you're saying "Get over it, Beth! What else is new!" Easier said than done, right? I need to let go, take things AS THEY ARE, and not have expectations. Damn that radical acceptance!

Are you thinking right about now that I'm addicted to exclamation marks? I'm realizing that, too! Oops, too.

A giant struggle for me is accepting the diagnosis of cancer of one of my best friends. I can't wrap my brain and heart around the fact that she's 3 months younger than me. She's in pain and no one can fix that, no matter how hard her loving husband, kids, friends and doctors try. I am cherishing every moment(like putting on compression hose), smile, giggle, phone call and text we share. It's still not enough. It won't EVER be enough!!!!!!!

Radical Acceptance = Being ok with life not being fair

I also need to accept that people are going to hurt me. Not everyone will like me, in fact some people might just really dislike me. People pleasing is sooo hard to rid! (I really meant that exclamation mark)

Our family is dealing with a crisis of faith. Not going to our church of 22 years anymore is a real loss. Huge! Needed to happen, been struggling with making that decision for a long time. I need to accept this, and realize that God is everywhere, even in a new church (kinda silly, huh?)

Im trying so hard to not be on a giant pity potty. Some times are better than others. Working on it. Geez, I hate working so hard! I know many feel as I do. I'm not alone.

This is where you all come in. I've really isolated myself from life the last year or so. Especially the last 8 months. Not good for the depression, ya know. Yes, I'm such a 'clevah' girl.

We had friends over for dinner last Sunday and after they left, Rick and I realized we haven't had anyone over to our home since Mom's funeral. Heather, Patti, Emily and Trey - you have no idea how special it was to have you over and what a great time we had!!

I've been trying to put myself out there and get back into life, as of the last month. Seen many of you for the 1st time in a long while. I loved every minute and I miss you all. I know I need you. However, I have these thought that hold me back. Who would want to be around such a miserable person? Not me? Who is brave enough to ask us "How are things going?" Hehehe, I wouldn't. So I hide in my room. A lot!

Radical acceptance- Quit being so miserable, Beth! I actually am working on that. Will take time to build up my confidence. But as Sponge Bob says, "I'm ready! I'm ready!"

Thanks, you guys :) Thanks, God :) Thanks, Radical Acceptance. :p

There's Humor in Everything!

So, Rick said to me the other day he wants a tattoo that represents our life or our current state of mind. I jokingly asked of what. He wants a toilet, with a bat sitting on it. The bat will have this wild looking face.

Ya, you guessed it!!! Bat Sh#t Crazy!

I just nodded my head.

P.S. See, I told you I wouldn't be all whiney and mopey!! Just honest! :p

Be Prepared for the Dumping Ground Ahead!

So, I know I've been pretty quiet since we took Josh. It was an extremely hard day and I just couldn't. Well, couldn't do much of anything.

We took Josh for a 9:00 am check-in and were there about 2 1/2 hours. I thought I was going to have trouble leaving him with strangers, but these people are amazing. Right away I could see how professional and yet down-to-earth they were. We found out that the psychiatrist that will meet with Josh once a week, watch over him medically and manage of his meds knows Dr. Tarnow (his dr. here) and at some point in the past worked with him. That is so reassuring, especially as they will be in contact with each other.

After we turned in all of our paperwork (18 pages on-line and 46 pages to hand in), we got a tour. There are 4 houses on the property and Josh will be in his house, with his "new family" the whole time. The kids sleep, eat, have group and individual therapy, go to school, etc. all within the home. They have outdoor P.E. everyday, and what a place to be outdoors! Draper is a suburb south of Salt Lake City and sits in a valley between 2 mountain ranges. Josh will have the opportunity to ski, go snowboarding, hike and skate at the Olympic ice rink. Glad I talked him into a REAL winter coat, not a Houston winter coat.

I held it together until the very end, but that goodbye was horrible. Josh did well with it. It was all me. He hardly slept the night before and mentioned several times that he was scared but once we'd been there a while he was ok staying. He was the one consoling me. I kept my hand over my mouth because I could feel that huge sobs were going to come out. Of course my eyes cried like a fountain that I couldn't stop. After several minutes Rick said we needed to go. I found myself frozen, unable to move. My feet could not move, even though I knew it was time to leave. Rick had to pull me to get me to move. We got out the front door, out of eyesight and ear shot of anyone and then I myself was a bit taken back on the sobs/screams coming out of my mouth. One of the hardest things I've ever done.

We went back to the hotel and just napped and looked at each other with glances of "How the hell did we get here". Rick was so good about taking care of me, so loving and nurturing! The only other time I lost it was the next day, as we were driving to the airport. But, we KNOW Josh is in the right place, being well taken care of. We can't talk to him until this coming Sunday, but we can get updates any time. He's adjusting fine and all seems to be going in the right direction.

I want to thank all of you for the many messages of support, the prayers and the love sent our way. It means so much! Mental illness is such a lonely path. If we talked about all of our problems, that have been high intensity for at least the past 4-5 years, we would be the dreariest people in Texas. So, Rick and I keep most of our problems to ourselves (except for close family and 1 or 2 friends) and have found ourselves very withdrawn lately.

Besides keeping you informed about our family's journey, I hope that each of you learns at least one thing about families living with mental illness! My son is as sick as someone with a life-threatening disease. In fact, his very life has been in danger and that's why we took him to the best place we could find. However, many people just don't think of it this way and don't want to talk about it. I am determined to be different.

I am NOT ashamed of my kids' diagnoses. They are types of brain disorders, which are physical in nature. My kids are not behaving in this way because they want to. With brain chemicals all out of whack and having a brain that is not typical (better word than "normal") in its wiring imagine how you would feel. My kids suffer a lot and, in turn, act out, which makes mine and Rick's life unbelievably hard. My kids see their friends, what limited ones they have (takes an extraordinary young person to stand up for and be there for them), going off to college or being very successful in school, being invited to all kinds of things, watch them have cars, dates, and most importantly, pride in who they are and a bright outlook on their future. We want that for our kids, just like you, but so far that has not really happened.

Please don't think I'm incredibly bitter. At times I feel a little bitter, more like envious of our friends' and family's more typical family lives. I also know that many of you have had no picnic raising some of your kids. I try to stay positive but sometimes it's hard when the only good thing going for us is that a dr. is on our insurance or " at least he got one of the best doctors in the hospital."

Is it so wrong to want more? Is it bad to not want our kids to do therapy and follow ups for much of their adult lives? I don't think so. It's also ok if we would like to spend money on family fun things, instead of private school tuitions we've paid since 2005, therapy for our whole family several times a week, medication co-pays that are huge because they each have 3-4 meds, and so on.

I'm so sorry to dump on you like this. This is just NOT the way I pictured my life. Watching my children hurt is every parents' nightmare and we've been doing it for over a decade.

I would like you to see the many blessings you have in front of you, that maybe you are or are not aware of. Be grateful for having to deal with your kid and his/her many after school activities. That means they fit in and have things to look forward to and be a part of. Be grateful for the busy times when your child needs to be at 3 birthday parties all in one weekend. That means they have many friends and are accepted socially. Be grateful for late curfews, car wrecks, progress reports and Homecoming/prom drama because that means you're dealing with typical teenage issues. I know I'm happy for you! I really mean that!

I promise I'll be more upbeat next posting. Pinky swear!

Love you all and thanks for "listening to" my crap. I needed to get that out, I guess. Thanks for the support, messages, texts, etc. They've really helped Rick and me during the last several days. If you want, please try to comment here, rather than on Facebook. I'm trying to keep my FB postings drama-free and a bit more private. I really appreciate that.

Beth <3

Talk to My Heart!!

So, our family could use some extra prayers right about now. Tomorrow, Rick and I will face a very difficult situation; leaving Josh at a residential mental health facility in Utah. My poor sweet boy has gone through the wringer and he needs more help than what we can provide.

Let me start by telling you that I asked Lauren and Josh if I could write about these issues and they graciously gave their permission. I'm just telling my thoughts and feelings, but it's about their journey, which is not easy. I'm very proud of my children and how they deal with these serious issues.

Have I told you lately how much mental illness sucks!!!

Josh has not been doing well for several months now. His mood swings, depression, coping skills and thought process are out of control, leading us to have to admit him to a hospital for 8 days. God bless him, he worked his tail off in there and made real progress, but not enough to keep him safe and on an upward trend towards a regular life.

Through our wonderful doctors at The Tarnow Center, we have contracted with an educational consultant, whom will work with us over the next year to get the best care for Josh. Right now this means this residential facility. It's not a hospital, but a secure home setting with only 16 beds. Josh will receive intensive group and individual therapy, as well as have his educational needs met with an accredited program that meets his learning differences. Oh, did I mention snowboarding and hiking!! There are some perks!

Josh's length of stay depends on his progress and, much to our chagrin, what the insurance co. will approve. The typical length of stay is around 3-4 months. We'll have weekly staffings with Josh and his therapists via Skype, be able to talk to him on the phone and visit him at least once a month.

It's just not enough for my hurting heart.

How do I say goodbye tomorrow? How do I turn over my broken boy to strangers? How will he cope? Will he be scared and I won't be there to comfort him? I've only cried twice so far, and I pretty much did everything possible to squeeze back the tears, for fear that if I really start crying I won't be able to stop. Josh, and maybe Rick, is taking cues from me on how to deal with this seemingly impossible, yet necessary task. I can't fall apart yet. Too much to do!

So, I sit here in a hotel room in Salt Lake City, after a whirlwind of planning, completing forms, buying REAL winter coats, looking at Josh sleeping for the last time for a while. It's all happened so fast. From the time we made the decision to now has been 5 days. Good thing, because it hasn't left me much time to cry.

Josh has taken this move quite well. I'm really proud of him! He was a bit taken back at first, and took out his apprehensions on what he could and couldn't bring from the packing list. No t-shirts with band logos (what, no Beatles shirts!!!)and no iPod is hard for him, as music is very calming, but they have allowed Josh to bring his acoustic guitar. Thank God for that! Seriously! He started expressing his fear of going a little yesterday and all I can do is say "I know, honey. We'll be with you every step". I know he's freaked out because I've gotten lots of hugs and he's even held my hand a few times (his decision). BIG sigh!!!!

This is hard on Lauren as well. Hard for her to process it all and cope with her feelings. She is with my sister (thanks, Susie!), who thankfully came out to pick up Lauren so we had one less thing to manage. Watching them say goodbye was ... Ugh. No crying now!

We check in tomorrow at 9:00 am and we'll see what awaits us. I'm anticipating I'll be returning to the hotel with puffy eyes and a red nose, but that's a given. I KNOW we are doing the right thing for Josh and that this is the RIGHT facility for him. I just feel it. All Rick and I have ever wanted is for our children to lead healthy, productive, meaningful lives while managing their mental illnesses, as they will nned to for the rest of their lives. Just what all of you guys want for your kids, hopefully without that last part. Can I tell you again that mental illness sucks!!!

These goals for our son are only reachable by taking this path right now. I know that. Someone just tell my heart, ok?

Yea, yea. I know, it's been a while.

So, I'm driving Lauren to school. That is always an adventure in itself. Miss Someone has already woken up on the usual grumpy side of the bed. Stomp, stomp, stomp. "Where are my earrings?" Stomp, stomp, stomp. "I can't find my jacket!" Stomp, stomp, stomp. "I can put as much sugar on my cereal as I want to!" et cetera, et cetera. What a lovely start to my day!

The joyfulness continues in the car. There is slamming of purses and backbacks, grumbling, etc and I can quickly tell how the next hour of my morning will go. As I pull out of the neighborhood this thought pops into my head to tell Lauren that I love her. So, I say "I love you, Lauren."

She turns her head with this look of "What the heck did you did you just say?" on her face. I said it again and she threw her arms down by her sides and gave this giant 'harumph' sound. She said "Why did you say that to me?" and I told her "Because  I do". I told her I love her when she's sweet and kind and I love her when she's grumpy and snarky too.

She sat still for a moment and then ............. she relaxed and her whole demeanor changed. The rest of our trip was pleasant and enjoyable. Can I get a BIG Amen to that!!

As Lauren got out of the car she turned to me and said, "Thanks for driving me to school, Mama. Have a good day. See you later."

I guess what goes around really does come around. Have a good day, people!

"He's Not Finished With Me Yet!" - to quote a Heath

You know how you think back to something you wish you'd never done/said? I have many of those moments and just cringe when I think of things I'm not so proud of.

I often think about those times, as I watch Lauren and Josh go about their daily lives. Being the typical (in most aspects) teenagers that they are I hear them say things to people or do things that I can't believe. Don't get me wrong, my kids are great! For the most part, Rick and I are the ones that get the brunt of things from them. But..............like all youth, and some adults, with an underdeveloped prefrontal cortex, L and J lose their cool and blurt out something rude, crass or uncalled for. Sometimes I say something, which of course is met with a 'lovely' response from them, but most of the time it just needs to pass away as quickly as it came out. Ugh.

That's when I reflect back to my own actions and words when I was younger, and ... not so young. Double ugh! But, that's where my new favorite song comes in.

Have you heard of Brandon Heath? You HAVE GOT to hear his song Wait and See! Click on the link and you'll find 2 places, the song and the video, where you can hear it.

What does it say? I've highlighted my favorite parts of the lyrics:

I was born in Tennessee
Late July humidity
Doctor said I was lucky to be alive

I been trouble since the day that I got here
Trouble to the day that I disappear
That will be the day
That I finally get it right

CHORUS:
There is hope for me yet
Because God won't forget
All the plans He's made for me.
I'll have to wait and see
//He's not finished with me yet//

I never really was that good in school
I talked too much broke the rules
Teachers thought I was a hopeless fool alright.

I don't know how but I made it through
It's one of those things that you got to do
I always had a knack for telling the truth

CHORUS

Still wondering why I'm here
Still wrestling with my fear
But Oh! He's up to something

But the farther out I go
I see enough to know
That I'm not here for nothin'
He's up to somethin'

So now's my time to be a man
Follow my heart as far as I can
No tellin' where I'm endin' up tonight

I never slow down or so it seems
But singing my heart is one of my dreams
All I got to do is hold on tight

There is hope for me yet
Because God won't forget
All the plans He's made for me
I'll have to wait and see
////He's not finished with me yet////


God has plans for me. I have no idea what they are. Most of the time I'm only aware of what God doesn't have planned for me. Sometimes I don't like those plans and therefore, react. The older I get I do realize that God does have something in store for me, more than I'm doing now. But I really do have to wait and see!

God isn't finished with Lauren or Josh or Rick or me! Thank God for that! We're a family holding on tight to our faith that there is some amazing future plan for each one of us. I just know it!

I Gotta Feelin'... Woo hoo, Boo hoo

So, I was just sitting on my couch, drinking coffee, trying to catch up on some shows on the DVR before anything else gets erased for lack of memory space. I flipped through my recordings of Oprah and they had the behind the scenes stuff from her opening show for this season, where she had the Black Eyed Peas singing their song "I Got a Feeling". Over 20,000 people totally surprised Oprah with a 'flash mob dance' (I had to look that up!) for the song.

I sat there watching the dance, after seeing it on the opening show and again on YouTube, with the biggest smile on my face and singing along. Pretty typical Beth, right? I love the whole thing; the song, the band, the synchronized movement of the crowd and watching Oprah realize what was happening and then get totally into it. I started tearing up, which is something that I do when I'm happy or sad. I thought I was happy....

All of a sudden I found myself crying for real. Not happy tears but something coming up out of me. It happened yesterday in church too. Tears came from 'nowhere!' and wouldn't stop. Have you ever really noticed how connected happy and sad emotions are? Of course, I'm wondering what my tears are about, but it's also fascinating to me how my emotions went from joy and happiness (that's how I feel when I experience music I like) to sorrow so quickly.

Maybe music is like alcohol, it accentuates whatever emotion is most present at the moment.

So, being the mental health advocate that I am learning to become, I went to the internet to see what researchers say about the most powerful organ in the human body: the brain! Here's what I found...

From an article published by The Society for Neuroscience - "Brain activity during these tasks showed involvement of brain areas typically associated with the generation of emotions and areas that control motor behavior. Listening to self-selected happy and sad musical selections also produced brain activity associated with emotions and music processing.

So, there it is. It's all in the hardwiring! Fascinating, isn't it. Complicated and confusing, isn't it! It's a wonder that anyone is "typical/normal". What a miracle!

Now, not to be ignored is the job to ponder over what's getting to me.........hmmm, so many choices, so little time!