Forgiveness. It's what's for supper.

Lots has happened since I was last here. Lots. Mostly good. Overwhelmingly good, actually.

Shortly after I last wrote, we had to leave for almost a month to be with my mom. She had open heart surgery that went fantastically well. A hiccup here and there, but she's doing great, and we are very thankful! Without it, she wouldn't be here today. Like I said. We're very, very thankful!

We also found out Hopper has virtually no immune system. This doesn't sound like a good thing, but it really is. She would still have virtually no immune system, if we didn't know, and at least by knowing, we can get her treatment. The treatment is getting infusions of replacement immunoglobulin once a month for the rest of her life. It's harvested from the B cells in the plasma that people donate. Her infusions contain the immunoglobulin from no less than 10,000 donors, and as much as 100,000 donors for each treatment! That amazes me! 

While I know some people give plasma, because it pays well, I also know there are others who donate for no other reason than to save lives. Regardless of the motivation behind the donations, I just want to say that we appreciate each and every person who donates to save our daughter's life! From the bottoms of our hearts, thank you!

Before the 'dear friend', (that tried to derail me), contacted me to see, if we could rebuild our friendship, I had already forgiven her. Instead of feeling sorry for myself and holding anger towards her, I started praying for her. It changed my mindset completely, and I had complete peace about all of it. I'm not saying that I'll let it happen to me again. I won't. I refuse to willingly participate in the destruction of anyone's mental health, including my own. 

I told her I would be willing to try to rebuild our friendship, but I also know that I'm okay with leaving it like it is, which looks nothing like it used to look. It's more of an acquaintance thing for now, and it likely will be for quite some time - perhaps forever. I've moved on. I harbor no ill feelings for her at all, but I don't think we're supposed to be really close friends, and my heart is okay with that, too. 

In spite of everything, I continue to dehoard. There are days that it might not look like much, but with each thing I toss, donate, or sell, my mind clears, and my mood lifts. Earlier this month, we got a couple of little cabinets to store our medical supplies, so we we are using shelves instead of drawers. I cleaned our old one out, purged a lot of things we no longer needed or used, and came across one thing that actually made me feel a bit sad for that person that I used to be. That person who didn't know how to clear the cobwebs from her mind enough to know that it was okay to throw certain things away.

I was finishing up the last little pile of items to sort that came out of the drawers of medical supplies yesterday. In it was a pair of those clip-on sunglasses that were covered in what looked like whitewash paint. I felt sad for the old me, who couldn't seem to throw them away, but I know her. She wasn't hanging onto them, because they were 'so important' to her that she couldn't part with them. She held onto them, because they were a splurge at a time when we couldn't really afford them, and she felt guilty they were messed up. She felt that somehow it was her responsibility to at least try to fix them, so they were usable again, and she stuck them in a tin to fix when she 'got around to it'. She just never got around to it.

And do you know what I did? I gave her a hug, I forgave her, told her to forgive herself, and then I promptly threw them in the trash. And it was freeing for both of us. 

It's amazing how good forgiveness tastes. 

Time changes everything.

They say that time changes everything, but it's always been a bit of a paradox to me. It rushes. It stands still. It messes with your memory but also firms up those magical moments in your life and allows you to reminisce about them as though they happened yesterday. 

I have a lot of those magical moments in my life. Some are amazing memories: Meeting Hubster for the first time. Getting married. Almost passing out at the amazing news we were expecting Bugster and then welcoming her just a few months later. Anticipating Hopper's arrival. Opening the best birthday gift I've ever received when having Scooter. Some are just plain awful. And while there's no need for me to remember them just to write them in a blog post, I will keep them tucked away. They are a part of me. 

I will instead just focus on those wonderful, magical memories that I've been so very blessed to have. I'm able to open them over and over again and live the days like they just happened. And there's one in particular that I will enjoy reliving time and time again.

It was when I finally got to meet Baby Bug...our precious little granddaughter...

Bugster had been fighting high blood pressure the last week or so of her pregnancy. She wasn't bedridden, but if it didn't come down right away by lying down, she needed to go in for a BP check. She took her blood pressure multiple times a day with a little wrist cuff, and it always went down when she rested on her side until the day it didn't. So she packed her bag for the hospital. (I know. She should have had it done. But it always seems like "The Day" is never actually going to arrive, and when it comes a week before you're planning on it, it catches you unaware). So she and Bubster headed out to the hospital. 

My mom, who had flown down to be here for her newest great-granddaughter's arrival, and I decided we'd better get that last coat of paint on the nursery room walls while we still could. (Frank finally moved out about 10 days prior, and there's no way Bugster could do any of the cleaning, let alone the painting in her condition). I was just putting the finishing touches of soft pink paint in the closet when Bugster called. 

She was crying.  

Bubster had run down to the cafeteria to get them something to eat really quick when the doctor came in and told her that they needed to induce her. And even though she was expecting it, it took her off guard to hear it while she was alone. And all of her pent up emotions that had been carefully held in check for 9 months rose to the surface during the phone call. I don't think she was scared as much as she just wasn't quite mentally prepared. But by the time the phone call was over, she was ready to get the show on the road.

So we packed up and headed out, too. We ran home, (had Calamity, who was supposed to be helping us paint but settled for keeping us company, follow us to our house, so she could follow us to the hospital), changed clothes, and waited for our friend to head over to watch the girls for us. It felt like time stood still, went in slow motion, and whizzed past us all during that half hour. It's amazing how you can almost see time in instances like that. 

We stayed at the hospital for a couple of hours and left when Bugster asked us all to clear out. Her main intent was to get Calamity to go home, and she wouldn't leave, if we didn't. The last thing we needed was to stick around and have Bugster's blood pressure rise, so we went home and relieved our friend who was watching the girls. We watched tv for a bit, called to say goodnight to Bugster, and went to bed. I wondered about the sanity of crawling into bed at the time, but Bugster assured us that she was doing fine, and there wasn't anything else to do.

The moment I actually drifted off to the Land of Slumber, the phone rang. It was Bugster. She was crying again. They had given her the medicine to start the induction. It was given in the hope that she wouldn't need pitocin. And it had kicked in. Hard. Like Transition Hard. And she was alone. Bubster had run home to get some creature comforts for his overnight stay and to feed the cats. She had told him to go but regretted it the moment the contractions took over. 

Her blood pressure was rising even more, and it was time to make a decision. She could choose to try an epidural to keep her blood pressure down, or she could opt for magnesium. Neither was her first choice, but the natural birth she had wanted wasn't going to happen. She decided to give the epidural a chance, since the pain was causing her blood pressure to rise. 

By the time Hubster and I made it to the hospital, (we left my mom with the girls, because we couldn't get ahold of our friend to sit with them again. She'd absentmindedly turned the ringer off on her phone.), Bubster was back at the hospital, the epidural was in place, and Bugster seemed at peace and out of pain. 

Hubster took advantage of the quiet of the waiting room at 1:00 in the morning to read and snooze, while I waited in Bugster's room waiting for the dragging time to quicken a bit, visited quietly with the doula and hit the pain pump for Bugster's epidural when she grimaced in her sleep. I wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. I knew what was coming. She didn't.

When the nurse came in to check her progress a few hours later, everyone was shocked to find that Bugster was ready to go! The medicine had done it's job, and the epidural allowed her to sleep through every bit of labor! Time went into warp speed again. I woke Hubster up, so he could go get Mom, called our friend, who had since turned her ringer back on, and waited impatiently for them to get back to the hospital. They were just in time. Hubster and Mom came in to give Bugster a quick hug and tell her she was going to do great and headed back out to the waiting room. 

What seemed like moments later, a doctor came running from across the ward behind them. He yelled out asking the nurses where he needed to go. Hubster immediately recognized it as Bugster's room, and I know time had to have absolutely dragged for them while waiting for news. In the meantime, we were stuck in this time warp, where poor Bugster had to wait for the doctor to come in. Baby Bug could wait no longer to make her appearance. The doctor no sooner donned his paper gown than she appeared.

She was beautiful. She had a headful of downy black hair. And she wasn't moving or crying like she should. Time stood completely still, as I reassured Bugster that she had done an amazing job and listened to her and Bubster talk about how alert and beautiful and quiet their little girl was. I'm glad they got to see her look at them. I'm glad they had that special moment with one another, because what I saw was not as encouraging, and time stood perfectly still, in spite of the clock on the wall ticking above the noise of the nurses working on the baby.

I realized I was holding my breath. I needed to hear everything. I needed to hear her little cries. And my breathing was much too loud. And time stopped in its tracks. Moments later, we heard those beautiful little mewls that newborns make. And those beautiful little mewls turned into even more amazing little cries. And then she came over to meet her mommy and daddy for real. 

And she was breathtaking.

She IS breathtaking. 

She takes my breath away every time I see her. 

Every time I hold her. 

Every time I think of her. 

And time ceases. 

On the tip of my tongue.

I get so frustrated when I am trying to remember something, and I am so close I can almost taste it, but it never completely breaks through the surface. In many ways, it felt that way with the guardianship thing. It felt like it was just out of the grasp of our fingers and we couldn't quite catch it. It still feels like it's a bit out of reach, since we haven't gotten the official paperwork in the mail yet, but at least we know it's coming, and the resolution will be complete when it finally shows up.

Triggered by a sound, which triggered a smell, I had to go on a web search for a toy from my childhood. Anyone remember Incredible Edibles? I'm talking about the electric toy that heated small plates filled with edible goo to solidify, or maybe I should say, "rubberize" them, so older brothers could terrorize their younger sisters with them. I can't count the number of gooey spiders and snakes that were put in either one of our beds or our hair or  chased us around the yard at night. I'm betting the inventor of Gummy Worms had an Incredible Edible machine when he was little, and I'm betting he chased his little sisters, too!

Seeing the picture of the plates brought back an almost physical reaction for me. There's nothing that smells quite like the gel that was used when it's baking, and for a split second, that smell was so strong that I was back in the home I grew up in, sitting around the machine with my brothers and sister waiting for the goodies to be done, so we could eat them. I could smell the dampness of the basement, feel the coolness of the concrete against my knees, and feel the anticipation as though I were 8 years old again. 

What wonderful memories!

It's funny how a sound or a smell can transport a person back in time. For years, there was a single phrase that transported me back, but it was like I was stuck in a time machine, for I could remember but one line in the song. I wanted to have the full experience of the memory, but no matter what I did to remember the rest of the song, I couldn't. 

Thankfully, my brother came through for me when we were back home for Mom's heart surgery. We were at the park with the kids, and I was standing around with one of my sisters, one of my brothers, and one of my sister-in-laws. I told them that I needed help! That there was a song that played on the radio when we were little that I wanted to hear again, but all I could remember was the phrase, "And find me a pretty girl!"

Instantly, my brother started singing the song! He remembered the words and the artist, but I've got to call him up and ask him who sang it, because I've already forgotten. I'm hoping it will lead to me actually finding an old vinyl record with the song on it. I really, really want to actually hear the song again, instead of just hearing the memory of it in my mind!) 

Do any of you remember this song???

I'm gonna get on a riverboat,

And go down the river,

And find me a pretty girl!

And if that pretty girl

Falls in love me,

I'm gonna marry her!

And if that pretty girl

proves to be untrue... 

I'm gonna get on a riverboat,

and go down the river, 

and find me another girl!

I've searched everything I have access to search, and not only can I not find the song anywhere, I can't even find the lyrics. It's frustrating, because in spite of being instantly transported to my childhood when my brother sang the three verses of the song that he remembered, I still feel like the rest of the memory is on the tip of my tongue. 

I want to be transported back in time to the black and white checkered floor in the kitchen with the sunlight dancing on the kitchen cupboards and stove top again. I want to feel like I did when I listened to it with my family when I was little. When I knew that Grammy and Grandad were just across the street, and that Daddy would come home every night, and that Mom would always be there when we got home after school. 

Just for awhile, I want to be transported back in time when the biggest worry I had was whether I was going to wear barrettes or ribbons in my hair that day, and whether I'd be able to stay awake and watch 'Connie Jarson' with Mom and Daddy. 

It's so close I can just about touch it...

Do you believe in the Easter Bunny?

Mom went in for a procedure today on her heart. It absolutely killed me, because I couldn't make it up to be there, and I've been a nervous wreck all day. Thankfully, the procedure worked so well that Mom is doing amazing tonight, and there is much relief and much rejoicing. 


But today has been rough on me. Heck, the last several weeks have been rough, but the last 2 days has been particularly difficult. Unfortunately, my regular anxiety medicine hasn't been enough to deal with all that is going on internally, and I've had to resort to taking Xanax from time to time. I could probably take a whole one and just be done with the anxiety for awhile, but they tend to knock me out pretty well, so I only take a half. I need to be completely aware of all that is going on with Hopper and Scooter, and if a half a tablet takes a bit of the edge off but keeps me awake and aware, I'll stick with that. 


Anyway, I was texting back and forth with Bugster about how Mom was doing when I decided to check out the microphone function on the text messaging. I said, " I really like this. Right now I am writing a text by talking it." into the phone. It came out like this, "I really like this but right now I am writing a text by talking with it." I figured it was pretty close, so I left it alone.


Bugster asked me, if I was playing with it, because I was lonely. I said, "No. I'm just waiting for the Xanax to kick in."


The phone, in all it's infinite wisdom came up with, "No. I'm just waiting for the Xanax chicken."


I'm thinking that the Xanax Chicken must be related to the Easter Bunny on some level. 


I believe!

It's all downhill from here.

I don't know, if it's hormones, (I am approaching *that* age), Bugster turning 25, or everything that's going on with Mom and living so far away, or all of the above, but I'm a mess. The last couple of days, I can't seem to keep from crying, and I rarely, if ever, cry. I'm the queen of emotion stuffing, remember? 


It's driving me nuts. 


It's time like this I fall into ruminating about all sorts of stuff. The thoughts range anywhere from past slights from people who proved they weren't the friends I thought they were to how I feel unloved. I really struggle with turning off the negative thoughts, and I'm exhausted from it all. Most days, I never give those people who have hurt me a second thought. And even when I am feeling unloved, I know in my heart that it's not true. I have absolutely no doubt that I am loved deeply by my family and many friends. But it's really hard to get that through my thick skull when I'm in the middle of an episode.


I get that my feelings are valid. I know I'm entitled to feel negatively about certain people either in my current or past life. But I can't handle it when the thoughts, the churning in my gut, and the tears don't stop. I hate living like this, because it's not really living.


Hoping the anxiety meds kicking in a bit and hearing how much better Mom is doing has helped a bit. It's just that when it all starts, it's like I'm trying to race down hill to catch a ball in front of me to try to get it to stop. It takes awhile to catch up to it and get it under control, and by then I'm out of breath.


Trying to catch my breath now.

What a spaz.

It's cold downstairs. Cold enough that when I'm working down there I often have to have a space heater going in the cooler months, or I ache for a few days. The laundry room is the worst, because it has unfinished cement floors. I can't handle being in there for very long, if I am not wearing my shoes. Would't you know that the other day I spent several hours working in the laundry room in nothing but my slippers? 


You would think I'd learn, but... 


The last couple of days my back has been spasming as a result. I'm not letting it keep me from accomplishing things, but I'm not able to do as much as I'd like. Maybe tomorrow will be the day it decides to stop. Regardless, I will be wearing my shoes down there from now on. 


In the meantime, I've been cranking out the laundry and trying to get it finished up once again. I am hoping I'll finish up tomorrow, but then again, I've said that the last few times I've posted, and it hasn't happened. That's why I don't like giving myself deadlines. Instead of them inspiring me, I feel horribly guilty, if I don't meet them. I know the laundry room will get done eventually. Soon, even. But life happens in the meantime, and finishing the laundry room is just not my top priority. 


Besides, I'm still making good decisions and processing things. I've been able to let go of things that I wasn't able to even a year ago. I didn't think there was even enough in the laundry room to fill 2 trash bags full to throw away, but I surprised myself and made it happen. I tossed things like old paintbrushes and rollers, buckets that I realized I really didn't need, and old clothes that I realized were just taking up space and weren't good enough to give away. I feel as though the weight upon my shoulders gets lighter each time I'm able to get rid of even one more thing.


The biggest thing taking the weight off the shoulders? Mom seems to be doing better now that she's home from the hospital. Further testing is needed, so we know what the next step is, but we're all just very thankful she's doing better right now. 


Now if I could just figure out how to stop the political calls. And to think we have months left before the election. 

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This? Hardly!

I feel like I can finally breathe. Mom is no longer in the hospital, and is finally doing better tonight. Praying that she will continue to heal and will be back on her feet soon.

My OCD got the best of me yesterday. I was working in the laundry room. I'd started at the door and was working my way around the room with the cleaning, organizing and purging. I'd made it to the dryer about 2/3 of the way down the opposite wall when I realized how horribly dusty it was and decided to do something about it.

We have always been diligent about cleaning out the lint filter, but it seemed like we always struggled with dust collecting behind, under, and around the dryer. In years past, it has had to do with the vent going from behind the dryer to the outside. It seemed like we could never get the thing tight enough to keep the lint inside the vent. It leaked out at every seam. I finally fixed it with a couple of large hose clamps and quite a bit of duct tape. It was such a relief!

But even though it cut down on the amount of dust in the laundry room, it never completely took care of it. So when I came to the dryer yesterday as I was cleaning the laundry room, I tried to take the dryer apart. Turns out it's not as easy as it sounds. I could undo the front panel, and that allowed me to get to the more accessible dust and lint, but I couldn't get to the rest. I tried taking the back off the dryer, but it's sealed in some way to prevent access. 

So I went back around to the front of the dryer and took a look at what might be a bit easier to get to. I saw there was quite a bit of dust around a black case. I took it apart and realized it was the case that covered the lint filter. I was in shock at the amount of dust and lint in it, considering I poke the upholstery attachment on the vacuum cleaner down in there several times a year. The lint was not only several inches deep, but it was also hard as a rock. It had definitely been accumulating for years. 

It was the stuff of nightmares! I have no idea how the thing didn't catch fire. There but for the Grace of God and all...

I took the cover off the fan, so I could clean the blades and try to vacuum up the dust, too. It's amazing that clean clothes thrown in a dryer to dry produces lint that eventually turns into what looks like dirt. Maybe more like a silt. Just dirty and gross. From looking at what I found in the dryer, a person would think that we only dried nasty, dirty clothes year after year. 

Unfortunately, I didn't get the dryer put back together just yet. I'll be doing that tomorrow. We had errands to run today, and we forgot to pick up a coil brush that is used to clean the dust off the coils under a refrigerator. We have one somewhere, but I can't seem to find it. When I do, I'll give it to Bugster, so she has one to clean under her refrigerator, and I won't have 2 floating around here. I'm hoping to get the laundry room finished up completely tomorrow. 

Once it's done, I don't think I'll need to do anything but minor dusting from time to time in the laundry room. I'll eventually go through the holiday decorations and pare them down, but I'm totally okay with leaving the rest of the room as is. 

Now, to just get it done...

Pass the ice melter stuff, please.

I have so much on my mind. I'm trying hard not to let it paralyze me into not getting things done. So far, I've been moderately successful. I've been working in the laundry room, but it's been taking longer than I anticipated. It all goes back to that not being able to gauge how long things will take me to finish, but I really *am* going to try to get it finished up tomorrow.


I keep forgetting about taxes and other must-do paperwork, so I'll have to get busy on that in the next few days, too. Paperwork that takes up valuable space in my head. Space that is at a premium. And I need to get it done, so I can think straight once again. 


Each time I think of the paperwork, the laundry room, or Mom and what's going on with her health, my stomach starts churning. It's been so bad the last couple of days it feels like my gut is a figurative snowbank, and there's a tire spinning without getting the least bit of traction, because the car is stuck in said snowdrift. 


I'm think I'm ready for Spring!

1, 2, 3......375, 376, 377........793, 794, 795....

Praising God and counting my blessings tonight. 


Mom is out of immediate danger with her heart, and the surgery has been delayed for the foreseeable future. I have been weak with relief all day and so very, very grateful. Thank you to all of you who have had us in your thoughts and prayers. They have been very much appreciated!


I spent much of the day working in the laundry room and making some decent progress. I'm hoping to finish up in there tomorrow. 


The laundry room is  huge. It's approximately 1/4 the square footage of the basement. Granted, it has the hot water heater, the furnace and the washer and dryer in it, but there is still a lot of room for storage. There's a double utility sink, an upright freezer, a small closet with our outdoor Nativity scene stored in it, a small dresser with a hutch on top, the 6ft long credenzas we just put in there over the weekend, and a couple of closets at the end of the room that contain roughly 3 dozen plastic totes of holiday decorations. 


Like I said. It's big.


I had to do some rearranging in order to get the everything in its place after bringing in the credenzas for storage. Part of the reorganizing was back near the holiday decorations where we had a bit of miscellaneous stored. The wrapping paper has been stored back there, but I haven't really simplified it in years. Last year when Mom was here helping out, Hubster brought a huge plastic tub in from the garage that had most of our wrapping paper in it. It kept the paper clean, but it was a major pain in the backside, because it stored the paper horizontally instead of vertically. 


It was one of the things I decided to tackle today. I gave myself permission to throw a lot of small scraps of paper today that I'd hung onto for little gifts. I also threw out paper I'd saved thinking I'd use it again, because it was pretty. I haven't used it in all these years, and I realized I never would, so out it went. I sorted what was left into 2  plastic wrapping paper holders using 1 for Christmas wrap, and the other for everything else. It is so nice to have it all upright and easy to see. 


When I was trying to get thing put away in the laundry room yesterday, so I could get to the washing machine to do laundry, (it was torn apart before we knew about Mom, and I had to get some semblance of order in there, so I could get clothes washed, in case we headed out of town), I had to sort through what I had left of school supplies. I'd had them stored on a small bookshelf, so I'd have access to them when we needed something, but when I started going through things again to put them in the credenza, I realized I still had way too much stuff, in spite of having gotten rid of so much already.


Since I started dehoarding, I can't even count the number of packages of theme paper I'd give away. Yet when I was rearranging things in the laundry room yesterday, I counted over 50 packages still on the shelf, because I'd put it there as I came across it while dehoarding in different areas of the house. I have to admit that I was shocked I still had that many. It was obvious to me the hoarding still had a pretty strong hold over me when I was going through the theme paper a year ago, or I wouldn't still have that much left. 


I packed up over 25 packages of 200ct  notebook paper, (I didn't actually count them), for Bugster, Bubster and Frank to use for school, so they don't have to buy any for awhile. 

Notebook paper for Bugster's family.

In fact, the stash may actually take them all the way through school. If they can't use it all, Bugster will take donate it. I also gave them a couple packages of pencils, since they're always needed for school. I did keep just under 25 packages of 150ct theme paper for us, so I ended up getting rid of well over half of what I had on the shelf. All of the school supplies fit in one area of the credenza, and I love having the perfect place for them to call home. 

What's left of our notebooks and paper. A shelf sits right above them with the rest of the school supplies like markers, pencils, crayons and glue. I love that we will know at a glance what we have, so we won't buy anymore!

I'm hoping to finish up the rest of the laundry room tomorrow. I don't have too many loads of laundry left to wash, but I do have some I need to fold or bag up for donation. It will be nice to get all of it out of there and put it where it goes. And it feels really good to be making progress once again. 

Prayer request.

I don't want to go into much detail, as I want to respect Mom's privacy, but prayers are greatly appreciated. 


Mom was admitted the ER last night. It appears she's going to have to have heart surgery soon. 


I'm doing my best to get things together, so we can get in the car and leave as soon as we know when it will happen. 


It's times like this that I really wish we lived closer to family. 


Like I said, prayers are greatly appreciated.


Thanks.

Necessity is the Mother of Invention, but who's the Mother of Necessity?

You've probably all heard the adage, "Waste not. Want not," right?


It's an awesome saying, and a wonderful way to live. That is, if you're not me. From the time I could remember, I have felt a moral obligation to not waste stuff - to find a use for anything that had any use left in it. I think I can squeeze use out of things that really have none left, and seeing the potential for practically everything is really cluttering to the mind.


I'm sure part of it came from growing up in a large family with not a lot of extra to go around. And I'm sure the fact that we've always been a single income family has played a role as well. But I think it's deeper than that. I think it's part of who I am to the core. Part of where I came from...


My grandparents raised their family during the Great Depression. Times were so incredibly tough then. At a time in history when women just didn't work outside the home, my grandmother cleaned the schoolhouse after hours to help make ends meet. I've heard stories all my life about how ingenuous she was. She absolutely amazed me my entire life. I adored her.


One of the things Mom has told me many times, is how Grammy would pick up left over construction paper off the floors when she was cleaning. Because this was during the Great Depression,every inch of available paper was used by someone. Nothing went to waste. The pieces of construction paper were often just slivers, but no piece was too small. She gathered them religiously.


Money was so incredibly tight during the Great Depression, that Mom and her brothers and sisters got one new pair of shoes a year. By the time the school year was over, the shoes no longer fit or had huge holes in them. They were all but abandoned, but that never seemed to be too much of a problem, for summer had arrived, and the kids would run around barefoot. 


Shoes weren't the only luxury for my mom's during the Great Depression. Clothes were, too. Grammy made most of the clothes for the entire family. Socks were darned until they were so well used they were literally falling apart. Clothes were handed down from the older kids to the younger until some clothes were worn by every child in the family, regardless of their gender. Like many women raising families during the Great Depression, my grandmother used feed sacks and flour and sugar sacks for fabric to make dresses for the girls and dress shirts for the boys.


But that wasn't enough for Grammy. She wanted to take away the sting of poverty. In spite of the fact that the girls knew their dresses were made from feed and flour sacks, Grammy wanted to make them special. She wanted her girls to know how much they meant to her. To know that they were more than their current economic status. So she got creative. 


When it was time to make dresses for her daughters, she would painstakingly separate the colors of construction paper and put them in a large vat of boiling water on the stove. She would then add the flour sacks that she'd thoroughly washed beforehand to the water.  Once the sacks, which had been opened at the seams to make a flat piece of fabric, had boiled long enough, she would rinse them and hang them to dry. Then she would get busy cutting out dress patterns on beautifully colored fabric and start sewing.


By the time Grammy was done, the girls would each have a beautiful new dress. Mom said it made her feel so incredibly special, that Grammy would go to all that trouble for them. It would be apt to say in this case that necessity truly was the mother of invention!


However, things have changed. Drastically. Overall, Americans today don't know what it truly means to need something. I know it's not the steadfast rule, but even in these rough economic times, the vast majority of homes have at least one computer, one cell phone and one car, if not two or more of each, plus cable or satellite television. We just have access to an overabundance of stuff - especially clothing. We can buy at thrift stores, garage sales or from the clearance racks for just pennies on the dollar, and that doesn't even count the bags and bags of clothing people give away every day on Craigslist or the different online free groups that are out there.


Unfortunately, hoarding and overabundance go hand in hand. Sort of like the Titanic and icebergs. It definitely makes the waters a little rougher for me to navigate. It doesn't mean I can't or won't be able to keep my head above water.


It just means I have to learn how to swim.

Santa has left the building.

Christmas is finally over for the family who lives in the Closet.


Mom left for home Sunday.


It's amazing how empty the house is without her and her adorable little dog, but we will be eternally grateful to have had her here for so long! I am incredibly blessed to count her as one of my best friends. Ever. 


She encouraged me to keep going, even when I felt like I had no more to give while cleaning out the different rooms, and I'm so thankful for that. We accomplished so much while she was here, and I have every intention of keeping on keeping on.

At Mom's urging, I started keeping track of the loads of laundry I did after we found the boxes of laundry in the garage. I started working on them back on April 4th. In the last 15 days, I've done 73 loads. Of those 73 loads, 7 or so were bedding, towels or clothing we use day to day. 


And just when I thought I was done, I wasn't. Shortly after The Hubster left to take Mom home, I went to the laundry room to get a load started in the washer. I looked around the room to assess what I still had to do when I spotted a box I'd seen in there but hadn't really paid it any attention.

We'd brought some Christmas things in from the garage to put away with the holiday decorations. I've mentioned before that the laundry room is also where we store the decorations behind sliding closet doors and the box was sitting by the closet. The box was sitting on a large tote of Christmas wrap that had been brought in from the garage, so when I saw it sitting there, I assumed it was decorations.


You know what they say about assuming.


I opened the flaps of the box expecting to find ornaments when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a box full of laundry that meant something dear. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. Here I'd thought I'd finished the last of the laundry from years ago except for the 2 dresses I had left that needed to be washed separately from the other clothing.

Instead, I found the box is full of clothes from my childhood. I took the time to sort it today after finishing up the girls' bedding in the wash and got the first load started to soak. I squealed when I saw my Holly Hobbie pillowcases from when I was a child. I adored Holly Hobbie, and finding the pillowcases, both the one my parents bought for me and the one Mom made me just made me happy inside and out.


There were also some of my favorite shirts from high school which will work for Scooter and her eclectic choices that make up her mix and match style. One of my favorite outfits Mom made me as a kid was in there, too. Not only did she make me the shirt and pants that matched, but she made shorts as well. I remember feeling so special when I wore that little outfit! And while my girls are too big to wear it, I am saving it. If we have no granddaughters to wear it eventually, I will save some of it for a quilt I have planned to make from a few of my favorite things.

I also found the vest my grandmother lovingly knit for me when I was about 10. It's yummy robin's egg blue with a pretty pink accent. Gramma always knitted vests or scarves or hats for us kids. We loved getting her packages in the mail and could hardly wait to try them on. Many a school picture was taken in a vest Gramma knitted for us. Seeing the vest brought back many happy memories in an instant. There was also an olive green shawl with a salmon pink accent that I'm sure Gramma knitted. I'll have to ask Mom. She'll remember.


Needless to say, this last box of clothing opened a floodgate of memories for me. I had mixed emotions, but by and large they were happy memories. I'm anxious to see how well they clean up, what I'll decide to save, what I'll have to toss, and what will be in good enough shape to donate. 


Speaking of donations...


I've been donating the clothes we're getting rid of to a local thrift store. Well, it's sort of a thrift store. They have all sorts of items in there that they sell, but they don't actually sell the clothes. They give them away to whomever might come in and need them. Last Friday, I took 49 bags of clothes down to them. It was so nice to get them out of the house and even nicer knowing that they will help out people who need clothes for their families. 

40 of the 49 bags of clothes that were donated.

There were several bags of clothes that went to the trash after they were torn up in the washing machine, or I couldn't get the stains out. But there were actually very few things that remained stained once I was done with them, and some things came clean that I'd never in a million years expect to get clean. 


For example a hoodie that had set in stains for the last 18 years:

NEVER in a MILLION years!!

Was I ever surprised when this is how it looked when I was all done with it!

Some little girl is going to love this hoodie!

Mom thinks I should send the last two pictures to the makers of Shout, Era Laundry Detergent, OxiClean and Clorox to give them an idea of what their products together can accomplish. 


In every load of clothes I washed that came from the garage, I started out filling the washing machine with hot water, adding a large scoop or two (it depended on how dirty the clothes were) of OxiClean, a cup of Clorox, half a cup of Era and then I sprayed the stains until they were wet with Shout. I followed this routine no matter what color the clothes were. Where the clothes had been stored so long, and there was evidence of mice, I wasn't willing to take any chances with not getting them clean. After a few minutes of dissolving the cleaning products in the hot water, I changed the water temp from hot to warm or cold and would then run the washing machine on the longest cycle it has. I was in shock at how many clothes came out perfect right away.


Those that still had stains went into the sink that held OxiClean water to soak the clothes for a few days. Ninety-nine percent of the stains came out after soaking, if they didn't come out in the first wash. Of the clothes that were donated, there were maybe 5 pieces that had stains no bigger than my little fingernail. The rest looked new.


Most are gone now, and the ones I have left are either being used or packed away for Bugster and Bubster's future babies. 


Best of all? As soon as I finish the last few loads of laundry from the box I just discovered, I will be completely caught up on laundry for the first time in 20 years. 


How unbelievably freeing!

That which changed our Life Before. Part 1

I've been on an emotional roller coaster today going through the laundry that had long been forgotten. They seem familiar and yet foreign to me. They bring back faint memories of a life that once was but passed too quickly. These clothes are the window to my past. To our past. And the memories associated with them are bittersweet.

You see, these clothes represent a moment in time when all was well with the world. When life was simple. When life wasn't all about hospitalizations and illness and loneliness and and emptiness that overwhelmed me. They were from our Life Before, and while I am no longer in that dark place today, I feel I need to acknowledge it, that I might realize I did the best I could and I can leave it in the past...


The Hubster was in the United States Marine Corps, and we were stationed at Camp Lejeune, NC. I was so proud of him for serving our country, and I was proud to be a Marine's wife. Granted, there were a lot of separations from being in the field for weeks at a time, and there was loneliness from missing 'home' that was over 1500 miles away, but overall we were happy.


We lived off-base in the community of Jacksonville in the Fall of 1992. The house we lived in had major problems that we didn't realize until we'd been there several weeks. It seemed I was always sick, and there was a good reason for it. There was mold and mildew growing up the walls inside the house. I had to move furniture and take pictures off the walls every few weeks and bleach the walls to get rid of the mildew and mold. The house apparently had no moisture barrier under the foundation, and it allowed for entirely too much moisture in the house. It was beyond miserable. I just never felt like I could breathe. I knew I had asthma as a kid, but when I would ask the doctors, if it could have possibly come back, I always got the same answer. My lungs sounded clear.

I did my best to carry on. I walked Bugster to kindergarten and home from school every day, and I stayed home with Hopper while Bugster was in school. I loved the time we had together. However, it wasn't long before I found out we were expecting Scooter. I had a few complications, as it was a high risk pregnancy, but I was falling in love with our little baby more and more every single day. 


Fall turned into Winter which slowly turned into Spring. In March of '93, we were approved for base housing, and we were thrilled. We were beyond ready to get out of that horrible and moldy house. I felt like I could finally breathe again and waited in anticipation for moving day.


In the meantime, we found out that Hopper needed to have heart surgery. They couldn't do the surgery at Camp Lejeune, so we traveled up to Norfolk to see what they could do up there. We were scared to death. The mere mention of heart surgery tends to stop a parent's heart mid-beat with fear, and we were no exception. We were scared.


Mom traveled the 1500 miles to be with us to help out when Hopper went in. She helped us move into base housing, and we all left for Norfolk the next morning. We had an appointment first thing to have Hopper checked out by the pediatric cardiologist prior to her surgery. 


Mom went with us to Hopper's doctor appointment, partly for moral support, partly to act as another set of ears to listen to what the doctor had to say should we forget something he said, and mostly, because none of us could see her sitting in the hotel waiting for us and worrying. We were all very thankful she was there, as things didn't go exactly as planned.

When in doubt, punt.

Christmas has never lasted so long as it has this year. We've experienced yet another Christmas Miracle. Mom is staying another week, and we are so happy she is! There are high wind warnings all the way from our house to hers, along with snow and rain. It's just not safe for her to head home right now. She thought about heading home in the middle of the week, but she said she'd stay until next weekend, if we tackled the garage while she's still here. 

Today, we were in the middle of a full out blitz.


Tonight, we're exhausted, but feeling good at what we've accomplished so far. 


I'm also feeling a bit overwhelmed at what awaits.


Besides the customary tools, dust and mouse poop that are in the majority of garages in America, we found boxes of toys, paperwork and laundry. 


Yes. I. Said. Laundry.


Lots and lots of laundry. So that 50 loads or so I did last week? It doesn't even compare to what lies ahead. I'm guessing I have 50 to 75 loads of laundry to do. I'm hoping I'm overestimating, but only time will tell. I will be keeping score.

In the deep, dark recesses of my mind I vaguely remembered there was laundry to do in the garage. However, it's been there so long that it just became part of the landscape. Just a dot on the horizon that's not really noticeable in the big scheme of things that is the garage. 


What I didn't realize was just how big that dot actually was. Turned out it wasn't just a shadow on the horizon. It was the mountain rising up in the distance. Even though it wasn't totally unexpected to find the laundry in the garage, I have to admit that even I was surprised at exactly how much there was waiting for me or how long it had been waiting.


There was one box that had been sealed up and sent through the Postal Service from my parents' house to the house we rented in North Carolina when I was pregnant with Scooter and The Hubster was still on active duty. Scooter will be 18 this summer. The box was still sealed with the original tape.


Let's just say that life became exceptionally overwhelming during that pregnancy and didn't really slow down until recently. Truth be told, I'm not sure that life really slowed down as much as I have been able to speed up. I'll eventually blog about what life was like in more detail, but all that talk about speeding up? Yeah. It's it's a minute by minute thing. In fact, at this moment, I'm slowing down considerably and am having a rough time staying awake. 

On that note, I think I'll go crawl into bed, so I'll be ready to go in the morning. And while I know we won't finish everything in there tomorrow, I'm really looking forward to making an even bigger dent in the mess and getting started on the laundry on Monday that Mom has so graciously sorted for me. 


I'm sure I'll be dreaming of a winning game plan all night long.

Everything in moderation. Even moderation.

Isn't that hysterical? That was my fortune in my fortune cookie last weekend when we celebrated Bugster's 24th birthday. I just love it. It's so fitting considering the struggles I've had moderating my own moderation over the years. 


I can't believe our first little baby is 24 already. Wow. How can that possibly be when I remember having her as plain as, if it were yesterday? I have so loved being her mother all these years. Every single bit of it has been worth it, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I am so very proud of our daughter. Bugster is an amazing person.


Speaking of amazing people...Mom is a machine. She's like the Energizer Bunny. She just keeps going and going and going and... I am so grateful for all the help she's given me. I've been trying to talk her into staying even longer, but I don't know how successful I've been. I guess we'll know by Monday, since she's supposed to go home on Sunday. 


Mom has spent the last few days working in the study. There's still a lot to do, but she's made it so much easier for me to get things finished up in there when the time comes. She dusted and stacked and sorted and tossed, and I appreciate it more than words can say. It's a workable project now, and I will get it done as soon as possible. I still need to get the taxes done, so I'll do them first, but I'll definitely make it a priority and get it done.

Right now, I need to get busy. I've got place to go. Doctors to see. Things to accomplish. In other words, I'm busy. I just need to remember not to be too busy. Then again, I need to remind myself to be busy enough.


Everything in moderation. 


Right?

Regrets. I've had a few.

So. The weather is not conducive to Mom going home this weekend as planned, so we have another Christmas Miracle headed our way!

This has seriously been the best Christmas ever! 


Also, the pressure is off, because the in-laws won't be stopping by after all. The Hubster doesn't have any time available to take off work, and Bugster can't miss out on her externship, so they decided they'll just see us this summer.

I've been working on the laundry for the last several days. Mom made the comment that I'd done more laundry than a laundromat sees in a month, and while it wasn't quite that much there was a lot of laundry. I lost count of how may loads I did, but there were at least 50 loads just in the last week.


I washed everything from sweaters to backpacks to coats to gloves and mittens to baby clothes to baby socks, bibs and blankets. Then I sorted them and either put them away, put them in storage, gave them to friends, or bagged them up to be donated. In fact, I dropped off 23 bags of clothes and gently worn shoes and 2 boxes to the local thrift store.

I will never have to deal with them again, and I couldn't be more relieved.

It's hard work.


Not the laundry itself. Well, I suppose doing 50+ loads this last week hasn't really been easy, but I do enjoy doing laundry, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. But the laundry that is so hard to deal with is the stuff that tugs at the heartstrings. It's hard to say goodbye. 


Like the sweatshirt that I made when Bugster was little. I made one for The Hubster, myself and each grandparent. They said "Bugster loves ______!" with the blank filled in with Gramma, Grampa, Mommy or Daddy. I have hung onto ours for the last 22 or 23 years. Bugster will be 24 next week, so we've had them since she was just tiny. And yesterday, I took the step to cut Hubster's sweatshirt up, threw the front of it in the trash and put the rest in the rag basket. 


It was so hard to making the decision. I felt like I was throwing away a piece of Bugster's childhood. But once the decision was made, and the deed was done, I felt liberated. 

Free.

That is until I started sorting through the baby clothes and blankets I'd saved back for Bugster and Bubster for their babies should they want to use them to try and pare them down. Some of the decisions were easy. I saved the beautiful knit baby blanket my sister had made for Bugster and some beautiful little outfits that both sets of grandparents had given the girls. Most still looked new.

But I got rid of a couple of other beautiful hand-knit blankets that were given to us when Bugster was born that we never used. Our girls have very sensitive skin, and some of the yarn used to knit the blankets was just plain itchy. I didn't use the blankets on the girls, because I didn't want to make them miserable with itchiness, but I didn't know how to get rid of them. After all, they were given in love, and somehow, getting rid of them felt like I was throwing that love away. Dismissing it. 


Still. I did make the very hard decision to give them away.


And then guilt set in. Guilt over the fact that the little things still looked new. Guilt that I hadn't let them wear the outfits often enough for them to even look worn. But they were all so special to me, that I saved them for 'special occasions'. The problem was that it never seemed like occasions were quite special enough to wear the outfits, so some of them had only been worn once or twice before they were outgrown. 


The regret weighed heavily on my all day long.

To top it off, my arms ached from missing the babies they used to hold. I can't seem to wash baby clothes without feeling and smelling the little ones who used to wear them as though they're still asleep in the other room waiting for me to rock them and hold them and love them.


Sigh.

It's been a rough week emotionally. But I made it through. 


I'm down to only having 2 loads of laundry left from the huge amount of clothing that had been in the storage pod. The other 2 loads I have waiting to be run are towels and dark clothes that are clothes that we currently wear. It's hard to believe that after 10 years or so of trying to sort through the laundry that seemed so impossible, I'm almost done. 

For the first time in over a decade, I will finally be caught up on laundry when I go to bed tonight. I will have 9 empty laundry baskets and 2 empty hampers in the laundry room. At least 4 large boxes that had held laundry that have since gone out with the trash, and there are at least eight 18 gallon totes that once held dirty laundry that are now stacked awaiting their next purpose. 

I've been stretched mentally and I have survived. I have not been incapacitated by emotions like I have in the past. 


It is a small victory, but it is a victory nonetheless. 


I'll count it as a win.

Another Christmas Miracle.

When Mom came down to help me with my surgery back on December 1, she planned on going home before Christmas. I jokingly told her that I'd be praying for snow, so she couldn't go home. Then, I promised her that I wouldn't tell her, "Yay! A Christmas Miracle!!" when the snow would keep her here. 

Well, the snow didn't keep her here the first week or two. The infection I got post-op did, though. And since it wasn't the snow that kept here here, I teased her that it was a Christmas Miracle. We've had a lot of Christmas Miracles in the last several months...

There's been the infection. And the snow. And logistics, because sometimes there are just scheduling conflicts with the person who is supposed to meet us to take Mom the rest of the way home, because meeting someone almost 350 miles away takes coordinating schedules. There's The Hubster's back injury. And then there's Mom's generous and sacrificing love and her wanting to stay and help me get as much as possible done while she's here. 


And so, we've experienced yet another Christmas Miracle on St. Patrick's Day. 


Mom is staying one more week to help me finish up as much as possible before The In-laws get here the week after next. They're driving through after visiting The Hubster's brother's family down in Florida. They want to stop by and see the progress we've made and to visit us. 


I'm stressing over it. Because although I know Mom and I have kicked butt getting things done since she's been here, and that Hubster and I kicked butt before that and got tons done, I know it's not going to be enough. Plus, this whole thing makes me feel like I'm back in high school and working really hard to study for a test I know I'm never going to pass, even though I always passed all my tests in high school with flying colors.

I feel, however unrealistic the feeling may be, that they're coming for an inspection. Like landlords. Like we owe it to them somehow to have our house in order. I mean, that's one of the major benefits of home ownership. You no longer have to answer to someone else about what color you paint the walls or how long the grass has gotten.


You answer to yourself. 


And that's what this journey has been about all along. It's been about us owning up to and processing exactly why we are where we are in this situation. And somehow, up until now, I haven't been stressing over it. I've been working on things. Processing things one at a time, and dealing with the what, why and how of my hoarding. Because it's my hoarding. It's my problem. And I'm proud of the progress I've made. I've done an amazing job. I'm not finished yet, but I know I will get there.


I am taking back ownership of the situation. Of my feelings. I refuse to be stressed. To be judged and graded as though I'm completing an assignment in high school for a very harsh teacher. If it's something that happens, then it's on those who do the judging. It's not on me. 


Mom and I will get as much done while she's here as possible. Not because there will be any sort of test. Not to prove anything to anybody else. We will accomplish as much as possible, because Mom is staying to help out of the goodness of her heart. And because not accomplishing anything, when that's why she is staying and giving us another Christmas Miracle, would be wasting that miracle.


And miracles should be appreciated and relished. 

Not wasted. 

One more week...

and I'll be back. Mom goes home next weekend. We thought she would be leaving yesterday, but we were fortunate enough to have her one more week. We're making good use of the extra week, and we've made huge progress. My back and every fiber in my body can attest to it.

Mom has been helping me get things as ready as possible for this summer when Bugster and Bubster have their official wedding ceremony. We're hoping to have out of town company come and stay with us, and Mom knows how much pressure I've put on myself to get things presentable. I just want things to look good enough that I feel comfortable when company arrives.


We have one more major project to tackle before Mom goes home. The dreaded study. It's the paperwork hub of the house, and it is nothing short of a disaster. There is far more in the study than just paperwork, and it's going to take some major sorting to get through it and make it presentable. 


There are other things that we'd love to get done, but I'm okay, if we don't get to them. I'd rather get the study finished than anything else. Mom would also like to help me get the craft area downstairs sorted, but I can do a lot of that on my own once she goes home.

Yesterday, we worked on the living room. It's the only room we've worked on so far that has only taken one day to do. It's because it was in the best shape so far, because The Hubster and I had gotten it finished up before Mom got here. It's amazing how roomy and cozy it looks this way. We're quite pleased with it, but the muscles are still protesting this morning from moving furniture.

The Hubster went in last Monday an epidural steroid injection in his lower back. He's had mixed results. For the first few days after the procedure, he was in even more pain than he was before he got it done. Unfortunately, that can happen. Thankfully, though, it is starting to work, and he's more comfortable than he's been since he hurt his back almost 2 months ago. He's going to go in for another injection in a couple of weeks. The doctor seems to think that having 2 injections in such a short order tends to work better than waiting to get the second one after the intense pain kicks up again. We're hoping it works.


We're heading over to Bugster and Buster's house in a little bit. Frank is going to be playing the guitar we all got him for his birthday, so he can show us what he's got. We're looking forward to it. We won't be over there very late. It's going to be hard enough to get the girls up in the morning and get them ready for school with the time change. They'll be going to bed as soon as we get back home. 


That's about it for now. 


I'll see y'all soon!

Don't judge me.

Receipts from 2005.


A 2004/2005 phone book.

Various socks. Some with mates. Some without. Most belonged to The Hubster, but there was one little one that belonged to Hopper or Scooter many years ago.

Dust hares at least 3 times the size of common dust bunnies.

A Sgt Grit catalog.

And a lung.

Ok. So the lung wasn't actually under the dresser. I coughed part of it up yesterday and the rest today - well after I finished cleaning our bedroom Tuesday night. 

It's the cleanest it's been in the 9 years we've lived here. There is finally a place for the sweaters that are only used in the winter months. There's a place for our shoes. We each have a place to hang our clothes. And the floor is bare and clean not only in the closet but all around the bed. The window is clean and the curtains are washed and rehung.
 
The one room in the house that I figured was the least pressing, because it was the one that had been kept up the best over the years still took 3 days to dig out. Granted, I was moving slower than normal with this respiratory bug Scooter so generously shared, but it's done now, and our bedroom is once again the sanctuary we intended it to be.


I'm so very thankful for its calming effects when I finally crawl into bed at night with my inhaler under the pillow and a cough drop in my mouth. Scooter is still coughing during the day, but her coughing has all but stopped during the night. I'm so glad. I hate when the girls are sick and don't get real sleep.

I'm very thankful that in spite of the fact that The Hubster, Hopper and Mom are all sick with this same crud that it doesn't seem to be hitting them quite as hard. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. 


Another thing that makes me happy? 


The pieces of my lung sitting in the jar on our closet shelf.




What? 



I never said I was going to get rid of everything!

Waiting to be seen.

The Hubster and I are at the urgent care clinic with Scooter waiting for her to be seen. Thankfully, Hubster brought his netbook, so I've pirated it away to do a quick blog post. Scooter has a slight fever and a heckuva cough. The cough just started yesterday, and we've had to give her several nebulizer treatments to get her asthma and cough under control since yesterday morning. She sounds like she used to when she was younger and was hospitalized repeatedly with asthma. She's not nearly as sick as she used to get, but it is still unnerving. 

So to take my mind off things a bit, I decided to do a quick update post. Lots has been going on...

Mom is still staying with us. I'm so excited she decided to stay a little longer to help out, and I appreciate it so very much. We're going to try to get as much done on the house as we can in this last week as we can, but we've already gotten so much accomplished it's unbelievable.

Scooter's room is finished for now. I'll try to paint it in the next few months. We have some construction work we'll get to eventually, but for now a paint job will make it look a lot better until we get around to it. In the meantime, she's got her own room back, complete with trundle bed and a place for everything. She's really enjoying the solitude, and she's resting much more comfortably than when she shared a room with Hopper.

Hopper's also enjoying being back in her bedroom. She's sleeping more soundly than she did before. Something about sisters sleeping together seems to make the sleep more fitful. So right now, Hopper's enjoying Gramma as a sleepover guest. She's loving it. And Mom's dog is thrilled having not 1 but 2 beds in Hopper's room to choose from when he wants a nap.

Mom's been helping me in our bedroom. We started on the closet. It had gotten totally out of hand. It's a tiny little thing, but it held way too much. It wasn't really being used as a closet anymore, because stuff was piled as high as 4 feet in there. Now the floor is bare, the clothes have been cut by at least 50%, and the shoes have been pared down as well. 

We've also cleaned and dusted under the bed. All that's left is sorting stuff that's on and in the dresser and doing some dusting. It shouldn't take too long once we get back in there. Hopefully, that will happen after we get home from the clinic. It will be nice to have one more room checked off the list. In fact, once we're done dehoarding and cleaning the bedroom, everything on the main level of the home will be finished except for the study. We're hoping to get to it too, but we'll see what happens. We have a lot on our wish list of things to accomplish.

Mom's hoping to help us get enough done that I'll be able to finish things without The Hubster's help, if it comes down to that. Right now, there's not a lot he can do. Three weeks ago, he woke up in excruciating pain. The day before, he'd done some new stretches before going for a 9 mile run, and when he went to get out of bed the next morning, he could hardly move. 

He's been to a couple of different doctors at this point. They're not sure exactly what he did, but he's got pain running down his left leg from his buttock. His sciatic nerve has been aggravated, and the poor man can't even sit down. He's in pain pretty much nonstop, and pain meds don't really seem to be doing much to calm it. 

He finally went to a sports medicine doctor a few days ago. He was given a 6 day course of oral steroids to try to get it under control. The doctor said that he'll need to go in for further testing, if the steroids don't work. So. Guess who's going back in for further testing? I wish they'd have just run an MRI on him 3 weeks ago, so they could get to the bottom of his pain. No pun intended.

The sports medicine doctor figured he pulled or tore something in his hip or buttock area near the sciatic nerve. Considering the fact that he's not really gotten any better in the last 3 weeks, we're thinking it was an actual tear. Of course he's totally out of vacation and sick days at this point, and he won't get anymore until May. He used them all up when I had my surgery. You know where this is going...the doctor wants him to take a week off work. Unfortunately, unless we win the lottery that's not going to happen. 

So that's what's going on around here. I know this isn't the most coherent post I've ever written, but I'm a bit distracted. Between the coughing that surrounds us in the waiting room to the cries of tired and sick children to knowing my poor husband is in so much pain I can't concentrate that well. Maybe next time.

I hope each of you is staying healthy and warm. 

I shall return!