Wert-ing

I work semi-part time doing respite for a friend of mine.

We've been friends since I was 12; she started hanging out with me to get closer to my brother ... I ended up keeping her. hahaha.

She's been trying to "catch up" on her life since her third-of-four kid was born.

Courtney was born with a respiratory disfunction in which her brain essentially forgets to tell her to breathe. Especially when she's sleeping or sick. It's been a long, hard road for this family to travel. Parts of her life have gone to the way-side while she tries to keep up with the day to day of a family of six. Which is where I come in. I clean, organize, haul, move, toss the unneeded, watch the two youngest while Maria get out of the house for a breather ... Essentially anything that needs to be done.

keel-ing over

I have a some-what-most-of-the-time job working at a feedlot North of Raymond.

Let's not get "feedlot" confused with "slaughter house", they are TOTALLY different beasts.

If cattle die at the feedlot, they are inedible. hahahaaa.

No really they are, it's just a really gross happenstance.

And if I don't laugh at about it, it'd make me sick.

My job is "cattle processor".

Which essentially means I ... do it all.

Push,

count, innoculate, implant,

brand, split, run gates,

record,

cauterize

...

I don't check for nuts though,

I have my limits.

Which I get grief to NO end for.

I feel like I'm violating those poor beasts.

Though maybe they should be thanking me!

*another set of amused laughter*

Editor, Please?

I'm writing a book. A one sided, totally biased book about my life. I'm not sure if I'm going to go entirely biographical or part whimsy part truth. I just ... I have a lot to say.
A lot of words that want to come out and tell people something.
A warning, a caution, a celebration.
I want to tell my tale in the words that I have thought, not those that others have given me.
Or told me to feel.
Or made me feel.
Let's all hold our breath and hope it's not NEARLY as long as the pictured book ... I don't think I'm THAT long winded.

Hit Home or Home Run?

You know how on the surface you're aware of stuff. Obvious stuff. Like your child's hair is blond, he has brown eyes, he's smart, he prefers you over anyone else in the world, he has a label ... Autistic.Then you're thrust into a situation that things have to be "reassessed" and "diagnosed" and "named".
You receive reports with phrases like "severely delayed range", "trouble with temporal and spatial relationships", "areas of weakness", "lacks both social and emotional reciprocity", "tactile defensiveness" and "great difficulty" written in them.
Your stomach cramps up.
Your eyes glaze over with what seems suspiciously like tears.
You wonder if everything you've done, all the work you've put in, the sacrifices you've made, the tears you've already shed have moved you forward at all.

Step back. Look at the good again.
He loves his sister, he adores his mother,he's actively interested in other people, he is incredibly intelligent, he's interested in the outside world, he's creative, he makes me laugh regularly ... He's brightened my life and made me more aware.

We can do this. Putting names and terminology to what already existed doesn't change who he is. It helps us move forward.

Hate vs. Hope

Days. I hate them. Not the actual time period, I have come to grips with that. Though there was a time that I detested anytime earlier than 2pm. Seemed ungodly, unfriendly and definitely undoable.

The Days I'm talking about now are specific days. BirthDays, HoliDays, Anniversaries.

I haven't always hated them. There was a time that I thought that Days were fun, exciting, something to anticipate with glee.

Then He changed that. It wasn't a sudden thing, it was many years in the process. Probably took that long because I am a creature of perpetual Hope. I Hope next year will be better. I Hoped he realizes Days are important to me even if he could care less. I Hoped something would change. I Hoped it'll mean more next time. I Hoped hoped hoped.

Now I Hate them. I Hate realizing that if it's going to mean something it's up to me. I Hate knowing that the only one it matters to is me. I Hate that I still have the enduring hope that something will be different this year.

I Hate ... until ...

Her
She changes that for me. Days matter to her. Moments are dear to her. Memories are cuddled, cherished, expounded and reclaimed. She doesn't let me Hate because She cares. She wants it to be special, so I make the effort. Write her silly poems to let her know I love her, tuck notes into her pockets so she knows I'm thinking about her, take her for lunch because it makes her glow with joy.

Him
He changes that for me. I am his world. I'm his touch stone. I am what makes his world peaceful and right. I hold him extra long so he knows where his center is, I love him extra hard so he never doubts what love feels like, I say it extra loud so he can't help but hear it. He brings me Hope.

Then there was no more Hate. Just Hope.

Stress. I didn't think about it much, though my body complained of it often (I break out in cold sores).
Stress. I didn't worry about it much, though my body took the toll of it (I gained 35 pounds).
Stress. I didn't talk about it much, though my heart felt the weight of it (I cried more than I knew I had tears).
Stress. I didn't consider it much, though my kids felt the impact more often than I felt comfortable with (I yelled at THEM when THEY were not the source of distress).

I made a huge change. Took a gigantic risk. Worried about the toll it would take on us all.

And came out the winner.
Don't get me wrong; I still have HUGE stress points in my life.
Will I make enough to pay all the bills this month?
How far can I make these groceries stretch?
Have I done the right thing for my kids?How do I get to where I want to be?
How do I lose these last 12 pounds? ... okay, that's not so much a stress as a point of vanity :)

But I find myself able to deal with it a lot more calmly. I haven't had one cold sore, lost a few pounds, only cried in sadness not frustration (ha, I say that like sadness is preferred to stress) and have only lost my patience with my kids a couple times when I really should have just had a nap.

It's amazing what you learn to cope with, what you learn to think is okay or at least livable.
Then you take a step, make a change, get a back bone and realize you're way braver, smarter and resourceful than you ever anticipated.

We're gonna be just fine.

Pick one, Any One

You know those people that have "plans" for their life? Whom have known since infancy what they anticipate for their future. Some how deep in their bones they know that what they are doing is it.

I'm not that person

at all.

When I was a kid I thought I wanted to be a nurse. Seemed like a very helpful, tidy type of profession. Then I discovered you'd have to clean up peoples urine, puke and any other bodily fluid they may leak. I don't do puke well

at all.

Then I moved onto an airline stewardess (at the time, that's what they were still called ... why'd that change anyway? Don't give me any hooie about equal rights either!) I liked their snazzy uniforms (uh, yeah I realize how ridiculous I am!), how they proudly did the pre-flight demonstration ... I was also under the impression that if you were a stewardess, you'd get to fly first class. However, mid way through this dream I was told I was too short. Now I realize that person was just a dream killer. Too late, already moved onto the next dream.

Okay, there really wasn't any dreams after that. I just kind of drifted between jobs. Enrolled in college ... and life happen. Then I became a mom. Now I'm reinvesting my thoughts into what I want to "be". WHO I want to be. Where I want to do those things. I'm in limbo right now, helping out an old friend ... but when I look like this at the end of the day(is that a death glimmer in my eye?) I realize this is NOT a long term solution...