Tony's Jeans



 My old jeans from 7 months ago (from 391 lbs. to 256 lbs.).





Yes I have both legs in one leg. LOL. There is room for another person in the other leg.




So very, very happy for you, Brother. =)

Dear World (Take 2),

Well, I gotta admit, when I wrote that Don't Mess With My Monday entry just a few days ago, I had no idea that the world (and Monday) were about to fight back. Yes, I did get the laundry done and the house got cleaned, but sometime after four that afternoon I ended up flat on my back in the middle of an asphalt driveway and everything came screeching to a halt.

So what do the uninsured do? They pick themselves up and pray for healing. At least that's what I did. A quick internet search suggested that I probably suffered something of a mild concussion and though I am loathe to search any medical diagnosis online (they all lead to death, you know), I had to agree that this one was probably right on the money. My vision was not blurred and I wasn't sick to my stomach, so I figured we could save the trip to the emergency room, take Tylenol as directed, and all would eventually be well.

Then Tuesday morning rolled around. Might I say I whimpered like a baby most of that day?  I couldn't move, couldn't eat, couldn't think. My head hurt, my back hurt, and I swear even my pinky finger hurt. The husband suggested the ER more than one time and more than one time I said, Let's just give it another day. I dined on ginger ale and saltine crackers and when the man of the house wasn't around, depended on that other man of the house (aka the oldest) to help his poor mama out of bed. What a mess! I have never (birthing three children included) felt as bad as I did that day.

Wednesday proved hopeful when I could actually crawl out of bed on my own accord. Although ginger ale and crackers still remained my meal of choice, by the evening a pizza was actually sounding good. Even though I slept most of the day anyway, I had no trouble sleeping that night. This morning showed more promise as I woke up and could actually wave goodbye to the kids from the front porch. Yes, I immediately went back to bed, but three hours later I awoke with some serious hunger pains and only a slight headache. Tonight I can actually stand the backlight of the computer and seeing as how I've already gotten a few of those looks from the kids (the do your homework look, that is), I think things are finally getting back to normal.

And normal sure feels good, even if my head is still a little sore.

So there you have it. You can think you've got something conquered (like a Monday) and then everything changes. One thing about it, being down for the count makes you appreciate all those good days you took for granted. I'm going to have a busy day tomorrow playing catch-up with everything that got put on the back burner this week, but I'm looking forward to it just the same.

And a few final thoughts:

To my mom and dad, I'm sorry I didn't call you right away, but you know how it is... I always hate to worry you all. What I would have given, though, to have my mom taking care of me that awful Tuesday. I will never be too old to need my parents.

To my friend who is taking care of her own daughter right now, I will be glad when you are back. Enough said.

And to any of you out there who may have your own concussion horror stories to share, please don't. If I want to get freaked out, I've got the world wide web.

As always, thanks for reading. =)

Dear World,

Not today.

You are not gonna have me today.

I know things look kinda shaky. I stayed up late waiting on - - -

{This reading is interrupted to point out if you've read this before, yes, a portion of this

 particular  blog entry has been removed due to my belated better judgment.

 Ahhhh... the beauty of a delete button.}

And to everyone who is tired of hearing me go on and on and on about this... well, I guess there are other things to read out there. My next big dilemma will be the prospect of going on for a master's degree. Maybe I'm just afraid I won't be able to find a job. Anyway, if this topic bores you to no end, join the long line of already bored people called my immediate family. My children's eyes form an instantaneous glazed-over, bored look at the first mention of Can you BELIEVE what I have to do this week? The husband is the only one who really has to pretend interest. This was his idea afterall. His support is not up for negotiation.

Another thing trying to bring me down this morning was my beloved children. Oh, I know it is a Monday and they stayed up too late and sometimes mornings just stink. I understand the longing to keep the feel of cold, hard cash in your pocket and thinking life is not fair and wishing your siblings would just talk nice. I really do get it, but life and the school bell waits for no one. I considered jumping the car and driving them all to school to remind them who's the boss, but let's face it: I really didn't want to get out of my pajamas. No, I'm not lazy. I'm just practical. If they're mad at me there's no sense subjecting them to another ongoing lecture that can outlast three stoplights. Besides, there's always the ride home.

I'm gonna wrap this up and kick on the tunes. I've got all day to spread a little sunshine in my life via the washing machine and vacuum cleaner. My first cup of coffee is kicking in and things are looking up already. There are some bright spots to the day:

The Falcons won last night.

And at least one kid smiled at me.

I'm taking my Monday back.

Whatever It Is, You Can Have It

One of the strangest things to me is when I ask the Lord to show me something, He does, and then I wish I would have never asked. Am I never happy? Why do I think I need to know everything anyway? It doesn't change anything except the fact that now I know and I wish I didn't. Knowing doesn't exactly bring about peace, but I guess it does stop the wondering.

So which is worse, the knowing or the wondering?

I kinda think the wondering is worse. At least with knowing, you can move on either by picking it up and lugging it along with you, or leaving it where it belongs anyway... with the Lord. Now that's the hard part. And it doesn't matter what it is. It can be big or small; life changing or trivial; spouse-related, kid-related, or work-related. I guess it always goes back to trust.

Do I trust the Lord enough?
Do I think He can handle it?
Do I think He needs my help?

I've said it before and I'll say it again:

It's not about me.
It's all about Him.
Who's all about me.

He must increase,

but I must decrease.

[He must grow more prominent; I must grow less so.]  

^{John 3:30}

Coffee Break

If this is Wednesday, it feels like a Friday after a very long week.  My whole week is out of whack. When Monday slipped by without the usual Monday events (that would be the dusting and vacuuming and doing  laundry), I knew I was in trouble. In between running around today, I managed to make half a dent on the dishes and wrangled a ham into the oven. Since I only have about fifteen minutes before I make my fourth run of the day to pick up a couple of kids from school, I thought this would be a good time for a coffee break.

And that's when the thought occurred to me.

If I was working right now, I would miss out on random moments like the one I had today. The details of the circumstances leading up to this moment are really non-essential, but suffice it to say that I made an impromptu trip to the high school to pick up the oldest. We ran the errand I needed him present for, made a pit stop at McDonald's for an early lunch, did a drive-by at the local tech college so he would know where to park when he makes his own drop-in later after school, and got him back to school in time for his favorite part of the day.

I made it home in time to fix the husband lunch, kicked the dryer on for the five-minute wrinkle knock-out, and sat down to pay (or at least think about) some bills. The phone rang with the weak voice of the youngest on the other end of the line. Mom? Can you please come get me? For parents out there like us who rarely have a kid miss school or call for an early pick-up, this is one of those situations where you don't have to think twice. If she's calling, there's a reason. Within a half hour I had her back home where she promptly made herself cozy with a bowl of chicken soup and a good book.

(And there's no way she would let me post a picture of that).

So now I sit for a moment.

Kids taken care of. 

No boss to contend with.

Ham smelling good in the oven.

Now if there's just some way I could figure out how to collect a paycheck at the same time, life would be sweet (well, sweeter anyway).

And to the middle, you've not been left out. Give me this evening and you'll have a chocolate cake by the time you get home from church. I did promise you we would celebrate the Hershey guy's birthday, right? Any reason for chocolate, buddy. Any reason at all.  =)

Does Laughter Really Cause Wrinkles, Or Do Wrinkles Just Cause Laughter?

Today I glanced in the rearview mirror while backing out of the drive and noticed something new. I stopped midway, put the car in park, and flipped the visor down thinking the lighted mirror would be more encouraging than the broad glare of daylight (and yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds). Obviously there was no change. It was long and very defined and slightly disturbing. I smiled. I frowned. I used my index fingers to slightly tug the skin toward each temple on either side of my face. That worked... did wonders actually, until I let go. With a heavy sigh, I flipped the mirror back up and put the car back in drive.

So this is what they call a deep crease.
A no-doubt-about-it wrinkle.
Something even cover-up won't begin to hide.

I hear some of you moaning all ready. No, this is not the first wrinkle I've noticed on my face and I know full well there are many more to come. But this one was so there, so visible as if shouting to the world, Hey! Check me out! I comforted myself with all those feel good thoughts about laugh lines and love lines and just plain old life lines. I told myself it was only really noticeable when I smiled big so either

A). It's a result from all the big smiling I do every day, or
B.) I just won't smile big anymore and no one will notice.

And for anyone that knows me, either choice would be believable depending on the day and my mood. As I sat in the park a little while later waiting for a couple of kids to join the ride home from school, my daughter took a good look at me and said, "I love your hair! It makes you look waaaaay younger than what you really are!" Feeling a sudden boost of confidence, I pointed to my new found wrinkle.

"Wow," she frowned, "and you've got one on the other side, too."
There's just no end to the laughter around here.

Changing September

A note handed to me the morning of  September 11, 2011: Mrs. (That Would Be Me), Please do not turn on your radio during free time since the live reports may upset the students.

 A fellow blogger recently had a post titled Where Were You? As I read her account, it got me thinking about my own. I was teaching a small, combined class of 4/5/6th grades. By the time lunch rolled around, I had already lost a few students due to nervous parents pulling them from school early. I didn't blame them. I couldn't wait to get home.

After school dismissed for the day, my husband and dad called to tell me to make sure I filled up with gas on the way home. We were living in the country then and my tank was low anyway, so I didn't think that was a bad idea. The kids and I waited in line for a gas pump for what seemed forever. Getting to our house that day was like reaching a safe haven.

Because we were safe. At least we felt safe in our little gravel-road house surrounded by trees and located in the middle of mid-western nowhere. Watching endless hours of the same television coverage with my husband that evening while our three small children played was a surreal experience. We seemed so far removed from everything, and yet so close.

Those images today are as haunting as they ever were and I echo the sentiments of people everywhere. May we never forget. The Americans lost that day did not just die.

They were murdered.

Some estimates put that number well over 2,900, and considering the number of people still suffering the physical and emotional effects of that day, can you imagine what the actual number might eventually look like? Have you been watching any of the anniversary coverage? Dust, soot, and ash has a lingering, nasty effect on the lungs. Horrific images of people falling to their death do not easily fade away.

Kids left without a mom or dad.
Spouses continuing on alone.
Parents burying their children.

I know I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.
I'm just remembering. Our September has forever been changed.