randomness

     "You know I am going to blog about that."
     "Of course, I am your greatest source of inspiration."  Smugly smiling.
     "So you are my muse?"
     "Yes, I AMUSE you!"

 And this - I married! 

perspective

    When Jarrad gets out of his chair, it is a free for all.  The kids see it as a new set of wheels and go spinning around in the chair.  It is "fun". What is really fun is when they BOTH get in and each are trying to push their own wheel.  Jarrad and I just shakes our heads.  We take turns blaming the other for our kids' idiosyncrasies.

   Sometimes, I even take the chair for a spin!  (Now which one of MY parents wants to take the blame for me?)  However, when I wheel it is more for practicality than fun - no, really it is.  I wheel his chair around to see things from his perspective.  It helps as we try to rearrange the house so that he can have as much freedom as possible. Below are some pictures I took of how things look for him.  Keep in mind that he is a good 6 inches taller so the perspective might be off but you get the idea.

Light switches.  Yes, I labeled the switches so we would know what turns off what. I love my label maker!

Elixir of Life machine.  I found a slide out tray at Bed, Bath and Beyond that Jarrad can pull forward to use and I can push back to put away. 

Washing out the coffee filter at the kitchen sink.  Not very easy and I can use my abdominal muscles. 

Sneak hug attack when Daddy is doing a weight shift! 

   Kind of interesting isn't it?  These are things you don't really think about.  I try to wheel a mile in his shoes just to get an idea and am pretty amazed at this man that I married.  I have to pat myself on the back - I did good!    I need to keep that in mind the next time he annoys me! 

ice, ice baby!

     When Jarrad and I were engaged, we were counseled by an older couple who had been divorced before they met, that it would be best if I didn't move into his house after we were married.  They (and rightly so) said that it sometimes creates tension in the new marriage.  Jarrad would see that this was "his" house and what was I doing rearranging things to make it "my" house.  They suggested we look for an "our" house that we could move into together. 
   It was good advice and we did try for a year to sell the house that we are currently in.  It did not sell and Jarrad and I were able to work through the tension that the older couple predicted would occur.  Partly because we were aware of it and partly because he and the ex hadn't done much decorating - I mean, he still had his college couch (I don't care if it was the most comfortable couch in the world to sleep on; it was DINGY!  And why would you WANT to sleep on the couch when you had a beautiful wife to sleep next to on a comfy bed?  HMMM . . .  I guess Jarrad knew he was going to screw up sometime!  See, I knew he was smart!)

    Anyway, when we were pregnant with Sam, we tried to sell the house again.  It was on the market for another year.  Our family was growing and our house had 3 bedrooms and we wanted a bit more space.  I wanted a bigger yard and at least a playroom.  God used that time to teach me to be appreciative of the space I have and to look differently at it.  Every time I turned around it was about small spaces, TV shows I enjoyed seemed to focus on small spaces, a devotional a friend gave me was about that and being efficient, SERMONS were about being content.  I started to see unused spaces.  Backs of doors, above doors in closets, under beds.  I used that time to purge my stuff.  Getting my pack rat husband to purge was hard.  But he did, little by little.  And he has come a long way.  He no longer thinks he needs to hoard stuff but I guess when you have moved around as much as he did growing up, that is something that is learned. 
    I am very grateful that our house didn't sell.  It has an open floor plan that made this transition easier.  We are redoing the bathroom and someday, when it is finished, I will show you what it looks like.  I will have a whole series entitled  "Organizing our paralyzed life".  

That is a sheet of ice!

    Part of organizing our life is figuring out what we need.  Thankfully, Jarrad's job held his position for him.  They even promoted him.  (YEAH!  Windstream!) Now, he does deserve it and is the best person for the job but it also allows him to work from home which is great.  And very bad.  Because of the open floor plan, he works in the middle of the house.
    And have you met Sam?  He is ALLLL boy.  
 We need an office.  Jarrad needs space to work.  I would like a space to have ladies over to entertain that I don't have to worry about relegating him to the bed room or the kids coming out of theirs.  We would like a place where guests could potentially sleep if they need to. 
   We have a garage.  It is really tall.  We are hoping to put a bonus room over it and a lift that would go from the garage to the the main part of the house to the bonus room. 
     But I was afraid that we were wanting something instead of needing something. 
     And then we have a weekend  like this.  Welcome to NC where we don't get snow, we get ice!   I picked Jarrad up from work because we had planned on going out to dinner afterwards as he didn't have therapy.  I picked him up but we went home because of THIS!  That is not snow, folks, that is sleet that hardened to ice.  Ice.  We went  from the car around the house and up the ramp.  In. Sleeting. Ice
    And it is very hard to "wipe" wheels. 
    Needless to say, I am no longer questioning the want vs. need of a bonus room or a lift.  I think that it may be a safety issue.  At some point, Jarrad is going to be driving and I want him to be able to pull into the garage and go up a lift without getting drenched or iced.

    Sometimes, I just need justification.

My wonderful kids helping - just because they wanted to! 

Sweeping the thawed ice away so it won't refreeze overnight

aftermath

     Yesterday, I posted a blog on how I was feeling.  Pretty much like crap.  I hate January anyway.  Horrible month - bleak, weird weather and 31 days.  Sheesh.  So being in January doesn't help with my mood.  

    Jarrad does.  He gave me permission to read.  By permission, I mean he gave me permission to give myself permission.  And he loves me. 

    The kids do.  They played SOOO nicely together yesterday.

     My parents do - Dad called to check on me.  He can't fix this like he could fix things when I was a kid but he can help carry the pain. 

    My totally awesome friends do.  See below email that I got this morning: 

Belinda-

I am no good at responding on blogs so this is my response to yesterdays blog:  Getting out of bed is fighting.  It’s the battle you have right now, so just put your armor on and get out of bed and rejoice at that! (Then call it a day and go back to bed J )

 

What’s the quote: “Everest was conquered one step at a time.”  Or “how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.”  I’m praying for you.  If there is ever a burden I can bear from 400 miles away please tell me.  You are loved by so many people. And whether or not you believe it today, God gave you the unique skill set to handle this situation with grace and a testimony.  That doesn’t mean you can’t cry about it though.  I am a firm believer in a good cry. And I know what it is to walk around the house with the feeling like certain situations are never going to change. 

 

Remember:

You are loved by the Creator of the Universe

You have a specific purpose in this life

You are still being prayed for. 

    And she is right - Getting out of bed is the first step.  And it is all about steps.  There is one big mountain in my way (I don't want to think about eating an elephant . . .) and it is all about baby steps.  Crying is also very good.  I did that yesterday and felt SOOO much better.  

   In summary:

 1.  I can have bad days (or weeks)

 2.  I can give myself permission to "slack off" to get myself together 

 3.  I need to remember the important things aka NOT ALONE IN THIS

 4.  Crying helps.  So does prayer.  So does hugs. 

 

   

    

mood swings

    Sometimes, it just hits me.  Like when I read a blog about how someone did this awesome thing to their house and realize that if I want to do something awesome, I need to learn how to use a saw or whatever.  I know I could but I have always hated round spinning blades being near my hands.  Don't know why  . . .
    Maybe I am selling Jarrad and myself short.  Who says that he can't use the round spinning blades?
    Or when friends talk about their plans for the future.  I used to make plans like that.  Now, to plan is just, well, it just seems so overwhelming.

    I just need to get out of my head for a while.

   I want to be a good friend and be excited for my friends and their adventures.  I want them to keep telling me about it and not "hide" it from me for fear of hurting my feelings because they aren't hurting me. I am just wistful.  I told my mom last night that I needed something to look forward to and it hit me that last year, we had planned a trip to Great Wolf Lodge.  Sam is always telling me that he is ready to go back.  I think that Emma gets it.  But poor Sam.  I know that Jarrad hurts too but he doesn't say anything.  
   You know what really sucks?  Depression.  You try and try so very hard to have a good attitude but sometimes you are just overwhelmed with bad emotions.  Like that stupid ladder on the house down the street.  First - it just screams,  "Hey!  Rob this house!"  Bonus - the house belongs to a cop so you get extra points!!!  Second - it just hurts.  Third, I want to knock it down and run away or maybe drag it into the pond.  At least I no longer want to cry when I see it.
   Anyway, the emotions.  Stupid things.  Is it too late to change my species to Vulcan?  The bad emotions make it hard to do anything.  No motivation.  I just want to crawl into bed and sleep.
    I read in my devotional about spiritual armour.   My first thought was - YES!  I need something between me and what I am feeling.  But armour is not for hiding, it is for fighting and how do you fight when it is all you can do to get out of bed? 

statement of purpose

    I have a lot of posts that I don't publish.  I will probably post them later so the events will be out of order but I may have achieved some emotional distance from the topic that will enable me to publish them.  So why don't I publish them?  Because sometimes, they are too much and I have to let them simmer before I send them out into the world.  So why publish at all?  Because I have read blogs about other paraplegic families and they have helped me.  I am not sure how to tag this so that it is available to others who might be looking to see if they are not alone but I will figure it out sometime. 
   I write because it is cathartic.  Sometimes, I can work out some of what I am feeling and am able to get on with my life. 
   I write because maybe my children will need to see this some day and will have a better understanding of what happened in their lives. 
   I write because it may help someone at some point. 

show more gifts

   
Want to see some more
awesome
 gifts?  I have a pretty creative family and am proud of them.  No deep
thoughts this time - just showing off! 
    Jarrad is modeling his "beer" pocket hooded sweatshirt with personalized embroidery from Mom and Dad. Emma is showing off her hat made by Aunt Elissa that matches her coat perfectly.   Below, you see Sam wearing his - as he calls it - Angry Birds hat.  I love the one of Jarrad modeling it too.  
   And below is the collection of Spider Man gear that Sam received.  He is in HEAVEN! 
   And then there is the hand welded candle holder from my brother John and SIL Christine that John made.  Pretty cool.  I have to find a place of honor for it. 

 

Christmas gifts

    I love stories.  I love to read and see and hear stories.  When I talk to others, I love listening to their stories.  How they met, trips they have taken, kids, grandkids, anyone that has a tale, I will listen to it.  Being an English teacher is not the perfect job for me.
    Um, what?  Are you being sarcastic?
    No, I am not.
    When I was in college, one of the classes I took was "Teaching Writing".  A class of about 20 of us and the professor asked,  "How many of you are going to be teachers because you love writing?" with the implication that writing is our passion.  All but 2 of us raised hands.  In the course of the conversation, it was revealed that writing, not literature was the reason why most were becoming English teachers.
    Huh. 
    Perhaps it was just my class?
    I like writing but it certainly wasn't my passion nor the reason for my becoming a teacher.
    What I loved were stories.  Telling, hearing, discussing.
    No, my perfect job is storytelling.
    That is why Jarrad's gift to me this year was this:

   Yes, they are charms.  I love it.  And they will tell a story that I can wear on my wrist.  They tell the story of me.
    We all have stories; they define us, they mold us, they make us who we are.  Each decision that we make is a story.  Every place has a story; specific dates have a story. 
    One of my aunts tells how she met her husband in middle school.  There was a group of 7th graders lost in this big and new to them school.  No one knew where they were going but my not yet uncle pipes up, "I know where to go!  Follow me!"  So they did.  He took them the wrong way but, she says, she has been following him ever since.
   I love that story.  Short but it says a lot.  If you knew them, you would understand the depth of that simple story. 
   I love to listen to stories my grandfather tells me.
   His dad hated to drive so when my grandfather was about 12, he always drove his father everywhere.  Grandpa lived in a small mountain community in West Virginia - ok, is there anything but mountains in W. VA?  Well, when the sheriff would see Grandpa driving, he would pull the car over and scold Great Grandpa. Who would pretend remorse and switch places with his son just until the sheriff left.  Then they would switch back and continue on their way.  I don't think that there was anything that my grandfather can't do.  I think he is very confident in his abilities and that started young.   Would you trust your 12 year old to drive a car?
    My dad drove the church van and my mom wanted to go to church to dedicate herself.  So a friend of my mom's who went to Dad's church arranged for the van to pick her up.  Mom says she thought he was so cute and Dad says Mom's hair and her skirt were having a race to the middle.  She usually swats him at that part while he laughs.  They both were smitten with the other at first sight.  And they both were shy.  
   3 stories, short in telling but long on impact. 
   We are all stories.  Every decision we make has impact.  We get to chose what kind.

    I think that is great.

joy

    Today I was blessed with another niece.  My sister and brother in law chose her middle name to be Joy.  When I heard it, I cried. 
    That and the fact that she was breathing on her own. 
    This has been a roller coaster ride.  Down - something is wrong - more tests.  Up - spinal cord looks great!  Down - we don't like this and this -  more tests.  Up - not Down's Syndrome.  DOWN . . .DOwn. . . down. 
    So now, we get a little up. 
    Mom sent me a picture - I tried to download it so that I could show you how beautiful she is. 
    Yeah.  Didn't happen.
   I have been a bundle of nerves - still am as we wait to hear about tests and what not - about everything.  Jarrad, the kids, all of it.  I am a bundle of sparking nerves.  I have to whip myself back from snapping at all the innocents around me (albeit, they are pretty clueless sometimes).  It does spark sometimes but fortunately, usually at people who aren't here (yea for government stupidity!). 
   I walked this morning at about 7:30 an hour or so before Aubrey was born.  It is a 20 minute walk and about 2 minutes in, I saw a ladder leaning against the side of a house - as high as ours.  My nerves sparked and HARD.  To stop myself from hysterically sobbing, I prayed.  For Jarrad, for Aubrey (aka Baby Whatsit), for her parents, for my parents, my kids, and myself.  Mostly myself - so that I wouldn't snap. 
   So when I heard Aubrey's middle name, I cried (again).  I know that her name is deliberate.
   Sometimes, you have to claim your joy.  You name it.  No matter how hard something is, no matter what you go through, you can claim joy.  Aubrey has been claimed as Joy.  Despite all the ups and downs, she is a Joy.  She is our joy.