dreams. sleep. exhuastion.

I have THE most bizarre dreams. Last night was no exception. Lies, deceit, conflict, yelling, a sister I didn't know I had (thanks Dad). Many mornings I awake soaking wet from sweat, having tossed & turned and spent a lot of the night more active than I was the day prior. Sleep for me is exhausting.

Perhaps that's why I spend so much time doing it. I sleep more than any other person I know and it's not because I want to, its because I am truly & deeply exhausted more often than I'm not.


Twice in the past few weeks I've been awoken in the morning right when I'm in the middle of some intense, dramatic dream that I hadn't quite found resolution to yet. I find myself jarred awake, suddenly supposedly ready to begin my morning getting kids ready for school while trying to keep the household quiet enough to let the toddler get more of the much needed additional sleep she needs. Her moods are definitely tied to her sleep, much like her mama. When I am jerked awake mid-dream by either a child, a husband or that annoying alarm clock, my body/mind is not quite ready and I'm forced to go through the motions of the morning on auto-pilot, feeling dazed, confused, like my brain is still balancing somewhere between that dream and the reality of my day beginning. My mood? Not so positive.

I've had sleep studies. Three of them. I have sleep apnea. I wear an alien c-pap machine that I loathe. My dreams are the most vivid when I wear it, perhaps I'm getting deeper sleep or perhaps the aliens that invented the c-pap machine are coming down to study me. I was diagnosed with sleep apnea late in my 20's but it's been determined that chances are good I've suffered from it my entire life. My embarrassing, cumbersome, loathed c-pap has most definitely helped but even with it, I'm so incredibly tired.

Exercise? Yup, do it. It doesn't help my sleep. Cut out caffeine altogether? Tried it. More than once. Doesn't work and wow, does that make me crabby. Too much sleep, you ask? How is that possible? I stay awake until my eyes can barely stand it any longer and sometimes it's only 7pm.

I'm so tired of always being so very tired. Truthfully though I really can't imagine it any other way. Sadly it's all I've ever known.

Fabulously fake. Beautifully big. Perfectly Perky.

It's been 3+ weeks since my surgery, almost 4. I'm having a small complication that may require a slight revision surgery in the future. I guess I knew going in that things could happen, go awry, but assumed that stuff happens to other people.

Sort of like having a c-section. I didn't pay attention to that part of Lamaze classes with Garth because I'd already had a previous, relatively uncomplicated vaginal delivery. So why would I need a c-section if I already knew my body could do it the 'normal' way?

Just a few weeks later I had a crash, emergency c-section.

A year later, another c-section.

Three years later, yet another one. This one was at least planned.

So much for assuming.

I'm quickly getting used to these new lovelies. How I got by with 36longs for so long I'll never know. Fake is fabulous. Perky is perfect. Round is rockin'. I am completely & utterly in love with them.

In the world of breast implants, I'm currently experiencing a little bit of "boob greed". I wish I'd gone a little bigger. A lot of women go in worrying they'll be too big and come out wishing they'd gone bigger. Such the feeling was not lost on me.

The feeling will pass, I'm sure, they'll eventually be corrected (naturally or surgically) and I'll be able to stop thinking/worrying about them as much as I have been lately.

The one thing I have yet to feel is regret. I only wish I'd done this sooner!

Grow old with me.

Happy 8th Anniversary, Sugarbush. We've come so far and we have so much further still yet to go. I love you more today than I did on our wedding day. I promise to love you even more tomorrow and the many tomorrows that follow.
~ Marissa

Grow old along with me
The best is yet to be
When our time has come
We will be as one
God bless our love
God bless our love

Grow old along with me
Two branches of one tree
Face the setting sun
When the day is done
God bless our love
God bless our love

Spending our lives together
Man and wife together
World without end
World without end

Grow old along with me
Whatever fate decrees
We will see it through
For our love is true
God bless our love
God bless our love

~ John Lennon ~

28 months strong.

Every girl on her 28 month birthday needs a taste of what being a girl really means.

Yesterday Everly got her hair washed in the shower, and for the very first time ever, she didn't make a peep of complaint. What a big girl!

Taking the big girl act even further, she wanted her towel wrapped around her like mommy and wanted another towel put on her head.

As I was drying my own hair she said she wanted me to do hers too.

She sat, laughing, as I completely dried her hair with the hair dryer. That's never happened before either. She's usually bitchin', twistin' and/or runnin'.

Feeling daring, I plugged in my flat iron. Grabbed my flat ironing spray and went to town on her hair. She loved every second of it!

Her hair looked downright FAB. When I got her up from her nap later, it was curly again. Mine just gets frizzy, hers gets curly ringlets. Life ain't fair.

Happy 28 months E-Dawg, Mama loves you! The 1-on-1 time we've been spending together each morning has been so much fun and you're getting to be such a big girl! :)

genetics at their finest.

I saw a glimpse of something today. A déjà vu moment, a time-moves-in-slow-motion moment.

I saw a glimpse of myself in my daughters face. For a split second, I saw ME in her face. And then poof, I realized I was not looking at myself, I was looking at my daughter. Having had 4 children, that moment has never happened before.

I smiled, realizing genetics really do run strong. Just this morning Garth remarked that Wilson received the "drama gene" from me. Nice.

Around the time I started this blog, I wrote about a moment that truly freaked me out. I didn't have my contacts in, nor my glasses on, and I stumbled into the bathroom still half asleep one morning. I flipped on the light and was immediately taken aback, wondering how my mom got in my bathroom and why was she there? And in an instant I realized that image I saw was not my mother, it was me. It freaked me the hell out. Considering I've been told my entire life that I looked more like my dad and my sister looked more like my mom, it felt really eery to see my moms face staring back at me in the mirror.


My oldest son looks more & more like his biological f*ther as time goes on. I still see me when I look into his eyes but his eyes are the only trait he received from my end. His face, his expressions, they're all bio-d*d.

A few weeks ago my niece made a comment to me about how, of all my kids, Brenden looks the most like Garth. I laughed. I laughed hard. I found it hilarious. She knows Brenden is adopted. It warmed my heart that she said it though. Garth IS Brenden's dad and I'm quite ok if he begins to look like him...you know like how dogs & their owners start to look alike? Yeah, something like that. Well sort of.

The 2 middle boys take on some serious genetic traits of Garth's side of the family. Neither one looks like me at all. Jackson looks exactly like Garth's older brother and Wilson is the spitting image of a younger Garth. My mother-in-law gave me a picture of Phil & Garth when they young. It was like looking at, I kid you not, Jackson & Wilson in 70's clothes. Freaky.


And then, there's Everly. My sweet baby girl. I do see Garth in her. But today, I saw me too. It felt good.

Rally for Rossow 2008

Saturday: The 7th annual Rally for Rossow. One of our favorite days of the year. A huge tailgate/party celebrating the life of Jason Rossow, a college friend of my husband Garth who loved Michigan State University, tailgating and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Jason died after a lifelong battle with Cystic Fibrosis. Each year the Rally for Rossow, which usually brings a good 150+ people together, raises money for Cystic Fibrosis research in Jason's memory.

After a tipsy afternoon, I took a good drinking break during the football game and then rallied back for continued tailgating late into the evening, where mostly water was consumed by me. I'm getting too old for this. But man, is it fun. I love seeing the same people year after year, coming together to celebrate a great friend and raising money for a great cause.

it came to me in a dream.

I have vivid, crazy dreams. I mean, really weird off-the-wall bizarre dreams. Dreams that make no sense at all most of the time. Last night was no exception. I think its because my brain is on overload. Always.

Other than the really political dream I had about candidates, commercials, conventions, lies, vandalism, key chains and the upcoming election, something else came to me in a dream. Was it God? Was it my overactive brain? You decide. Participate in this with me and see if you feel a burden lifted. Even if you're not particularly religious, or religious at all, stick with me here.

In my dream I was asked to blog about something I rarely do - talk about my walk with Jesus Christ. Its a stumbled walk. It isn't a smooth path that many seem to walk with Him, always confident in His word and their purpose here on earth. Most days, I don't know my purpose. No, I take that back. It's not that I'm confused as to my purpose, it's that I'm convinced I don't have one. I often, really oddly often, have flashes of a memory of reading the Footprints in the Sand wall hanging on my Grandma Fern's dining room wall. The first time I actually sat down, devoured the words and thought about what it said & meant, I sobbed. I wanted that walk with Jesus.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night a man had a dream.

He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the LORD.
Across the sky flashed scenes from his life.

For each scene he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand:

one belonging to him, and the other to the LORD.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him,

he looked back at the footprints in the sand.
He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints.
He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.
This really bothered him and he questioned the LORD about it:
"LORD, you said that once I decided to follow you,

you'd walk with me all the way.

But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life,

there is only one set of footprints.

I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me."
The LORD replied:
"My son, my precious child,

I love you and I would never leave you.

During your times of trial and suffering,

when you see only one set of footprints,

it was then that I carried you."

- Mary Stevenson

Admittedly, I'm not a bible-thumpin' tsk-tsk'ing, fanatic religious person. I have a very real relationship with God, I believe in His son Jesus, I believe I'll experience everlasting life only through Him. I believe the words of the bible though sometimes I'm conflicted on literal words written by men vs. metaphorical ideas in it. When Christians use the bible for purposes of hate, I have a problem with it. God created, loves & accepts us all. I firmly believe that.

So ... digressing there a bit... back to my dream. I wrote these words in my dream blog. (Yes, I even have a blog in my dreams):

I can't do this without you Lord.

I can't do this without you Lord.

I can't do this without you Lord.

I can't do this without you Lord.

I can't do this without you Lord.

I can't do this without you Lord.

I can't do this without you Lord.

I dreamt I wrote that sentence 7 times and then read it aloud 7 times, each time emphasizing a different word of the sentence and listening to how one sentence can be read with 7 very different meanings. I fervently applied each of those meanings to my utter lackluster for life & lack of patience I've been feeling lately and realized that I really can't do this alone.

I swear to you, I really did dream this. Read my blog... I'm not a deep thinker. I freely admit to anyone that I'm about as deep as a shallow pond.

I'm deciding to give into this dream, whoever sent it. I'm standing here today, ready to admit I can't fix things on my own. It's just not working for me, in the wise words of good 'ol Dr. Phil. I need not only my husbands help, the encouragement of my friends & family, and more importantly, I need to release this to God. I need to hand Him my problems and admit I can't fix this. I've tried. Oh how I've tried. And I can't. Doing something I should have done long ago, I'm handing it to Him.

LET GO AND LET GOD
As children bring their broken toys

with tears for us to mend,

I brought my broken dreams to God,

because He was my friend.

But then, instead of leaving Him, in peace, to work alone;

I hung around and tried to help, with ways that were my own.

At last, I snatched them back and cried,

"How can you be so slow?"

"My child," He said,

"What could I do? You never did let go."

- Lauretta P. Burns

What are you willing to let go of today? What burden will you hold in your hands, admit defeat to and release to God, the universe or whomever/whatever you believe holds a higher capacity of control over your life? My request is this: No comments today which include your identity. If you wish to leave a comment, and I hope that you will, identify what it is you're admitting you can't handle alone, that you want to let go of. I ask for the anonymity so that you'll feel free to be candid, without judgement, and really be honest.

If you find yourself with nothing to release, could I ask that you pray (or think positive thoughts) for not only me but for those who do leave anonymous comments? I know right now in my life I could really use the prayers, which aren't easy to ask for, and I'm sure there are others hurting that could use them too. I hear my friends lately. I really am listening, even if I'm not in much of a position myself to help out more than just listening. There are so many of us hurting right now. I don't know the reason, or if its the season, but I see clearly that hurt, frustration & pain is overtaking many of us.

Again, I swear today's blog entry came completely to me in a dream. I'm only following my heart and praying that today, as I turn my troubles over to God, that you will too.

2 blog entries, 1 day.

It was time to accept the inevitable. My long locks had seen better days. Out with the old... er, dead actually.

I've always had great hair. Even with about 50% of the thickness I'm used to, no thanks to one of the downsides of weight loss, I still have pretty awesome hair. I don't have the prettiest face but I do have some damn fine hair. Regardless, the time had come to admit my hair was beginning to resemble hay, was getting really hard to comb through and you can only wear your hair in so many ponytails before you realize its sort of dumb to hang on to something that really needs to go. (hmmm, sort of like a few posts back... to which I've still heard no reply. Anyone see my face? Its blue. No really its not. I'm hurt but I'm ok. Really.)

Today I had a haircut appointment. I asked my sister to surprise me. Just cut it cute and cut off what clearly should no longer be there.

I'll miss my long, luscious locks but it does feel far more soft & manageable now and its just hair, it grows. I hope I'm able to keep it a little healthier for awhile. Well, until I feel the strong urge for more highlights up in there... who can resist a little bleach now & again anyway?!

A week in review.

Fishing, autumn camping, chaos, oh my!

After hurricane Ike derailed our camping trip by a day, our campsite was finally before us.

So we switched campsites. All was well with the world again and the rain, oh the rain, it finally stopped. I can honestly say I've never in my life seen so much constant, down pouring, days on end rain.


4 kids in a pop up camper = chaos. It has heat, it beats tent camping, I'm not complaining. The kids know no different and love camping.


They also love fishing. I love fishing, minus the fishhook that made its way into my forearm thanks to a carefree, ugly-stick wielding 5 year old. Want to hear me scream like the apocalypse is coming? Hook me with a fishhook in the arm.

It's a really good thing the kids didn't realize that the fish they were catching are often not considered "fish" to some, but rather "bait".

Below is a fish in my hand - the first fish I've ever touched on a hook. I not only took it off the hook by myself, I held it and then threw it back in. I've still never put a worm on a hook by myself, nor do I intend to.

We also like to fish with walnuts as bait. Why? Your guess. That's what Wilson does. Walnut fishing embodies Wilson to a tee.

Grandma & (step)Grandpa were right next door. I hope they had fun, despite all the chaos our family brings with us.

It's also not everyday that you get to encounter a wild animal, totally unafraid of you who will boldly walk right up to you, and your campsite, and steal one of your forks. Gross. You can have it, Mr. Rabid Raccoon.


We're home, we're clean once again and it felt awesome to sleep in my own bed. I'd love to say my spirit was renewed on this home-away-from-home camping trip but I'd be lying. I need a vacation from my vacation. And a massage. And some alone time with a book - perhaps the one I took with me that never got cracked open.