I am weird, but you probably already figured that out. Anyway, I was fussing about how my carpel tunnel was acting up today, so what do I do? I sit down in a dimly lit room and play the piano. *laughs* I know, it doesn't make much sense. It makes even less sense when you know that I've never had a piano lesson in my life.

Let me tell you, that I don't usually sit down with a book of sheet music. Now, I do, from time to time. For instance, I plucked out a few simple songs for DD yesterday, so she could get the idea and sing a little bit. However, I normally just sit down and feel out cords and put notes where I want them. I find it theraputic, or however you spell that. I am slightly annoyed by the one key that is terribly flat though. Every time my finger touches it, I cringe. So, I just scooted down a little bit and molested the keys an octave lower. *laughs*

Yes, yes, maybe I should practice more with the sheet music, but I'm just not that interested. I may never have taken any piano lessons, but my dad did. He would bring home his beginner lesson books, and I would practice on the keyboard that mom and dad got for us girls to share when we were real young. It was a really nice keyboard. Anyway, I became somewhat proficient, mainly because I played clarinet in band, so I had to learn how to read music. Junior high was a dull gap in my school experience, because I was no longer in band, and there was no choir. I wouldn't have minded pulling a Frankenstein during that time, moving through it with a groan and the dragging of feet. Blah.

Now, highschool was pretty fun, after I learned how to be caring toward the teachers, and wildly rebellious toward the other students. There's history there, and I'll explain another time. I'll just leave it as, it ushered in an explosion of black hair dye and big black boots. *laughs* Anywho, I was finally able to join choir, or rather, I joined 3. I spent a lot of time learning and practicing for competition, in addition to normal school programs. Thanks to my choir teacher, I was able to keep up on my music reading, and progressed on to sight-singing (singing an unknown song by the sheet music alone). What fun. lol So, all of that to say that I don't make the neighbors scream and cover their ears when I sit down in front of the piano. Now, there are no guarantees when DD sits next to me, wanting to play a duet. *chuckles* I love that little girl. She propped up a "Cinderella" storybook on the piano today, so she could play music. Isn't that cute?

It's tuesday, so any intelligent person knows where I was at 9pm EST. *laughs* Yeah, I was sitting on the couch, staring avidly at the television screen while "House" was on. It's rare that I actually find a show that I honestly enjoy watching. But, this is right up my alley. I blame my mom, for making me watch years of E.R. . It's all her fault. lol Now, I don't catch E.R. very much anymore, but DH doesn't like me fawning over Goran Visnjic. It's really quite funny, since I am the least drooly girl that I know. DH just likes to tease me. Poking fun at me is the one great pleasure in his life, or so it seems. :o )

Anywho, so "House" is just coming on, and someone knocks on the door. Hmm.... who would be stopping by so late? Ah! It's Sis, and she's bearing pizza. Interesting. She proceeds to tell me that when she found out that I only made mac & cheese for dinner, she knew that something was wrong. So, she thought that they needed to save my family by feeding us. *laughs* She is hilarious. Just for that, I think that I'll let her pick where we are going for lunch on Friday. lol

Alright, so it isn't that any of my family were starving. She just seems to think that noodles do not make a suitable dinner. As she puts it, if you eat noodles, half an hour later you are looking for the rest of your dinner. I'm amused. Oh, but I'm not complaining. I had a little pizza, since she got some with mushrooms. I don't usually get 'zza with mushrooms because DH thinks that they look and taste like rubber bands. Heeheehee...  I blame it on my dad. When we were kids, we always got two pizzas. One had pepperoni and cheese, and the other had the works. Mom and the other girls always ate the pepperoni pizza, and I learned quickly that if I wanted to have enough food, I had to learn how to eat italian sausage, mushrooms, onions, etc. It never bothered me. *shrugs*

Oh, and if you haven't already slipped into a coma over my drivel, let me explain that it is nearly 2:30am, and I am unable to sleep. I have no one to talk to, and nothing to do. Why is it that insomniacs just can't find anything worthwhile to watch on tv? Is it better for those with cable? If I get too bored with talking to myself, I'll just put in the movie "Alfie". DH didn't really want to watch it all that much anyway, so I'm sure he won't fuss.

After Sis and her family left, DH and I headed off to the bedroom, where he proceeded to turn on the tv in there. I should probably mention that we have more tvs than we have people. DH collects them because people leave them behind at his work all of the time. We could probably be rich if he would sell them off for $10 a piece. *laughs* So, we have this little tv in the bedroom because DH likes to watch Jay Leno before zonking out. This evening, Laura Bush was on the show. I really do like her. For some reason, she really seems to put the "lady" back into the title of "First Lady". I know that when I think of Hilary, lady is the last word that comes to mind. I've also noticed that other people really clean up their act and remember the manners that their mothers taught them, whenever Mrs. Bush is around. That's nifty. I hope that I can have that kind of influence on people, causing them to want to be courteous and polite in my company. I'm a people-watcher, and it is just fun to see the way that folks react around different people. *wiggles brows*

So, I haven't quite figured out why I am so anxious that I can't get to sleep. Part of it is just physical, and I want to go and exercise. I really wish that my headset was working properly, but my local Christian radio station plays vintage gospel at night, and that isn't the greatest exercise music. So, I get to choose between that and the alternative station that plays songs full of crud. If I have to listen to "Hey Mister" one more time, I'm gonna toss the radio out the window. Ok, maybe not. But, at least I'll turn it off and make a mean face at it. I'm getting picky in my old age. I used to listen to all sorts of music, but lots of it just annoys me now. I think that the commercials are sometimes worse than the actual shows and radio song selections. 89X likes to play stupid condom commercials, all of which I don't want to explain to my 4 year old. WRIF has Drew and Mike, whom I feel are the radio version of Dumb and Dumber. Still, I can't figure out which is which.

I can't blame all of my insomniac craziness on physical restlessness though. My brain is doing it's own thing, and I haven't quite figured how to shut if off yet. I've practiced thinking about nothing, but every time that I start to succeed, then I realize that I was thinking about nothing- which is thinking about something. Hmmm... *scratches head* Blah, but I've been in a funk. DH knew what I meant when I told him that I wasn't feeling well today. I bet that it is a combination of the dreary weather and sifting through boxes of stuff. I went through some old pictures, notes, cards, and letters today. At one point, DD found a card that I had given DH, with Trystin's ultrasound picture glued inside. So, I had to explain to her what the picture was. Of course, then came the questions about how her brother could be dead. Oh, and then she decides to tell me that she wants me to have a brother and a sister for her, in my tummy. Great.

I think that the reason why DD has been so adamant about having siblings is because her friends are not around during the day. She is at that age where her friends to go school, and she doesn't. Those who are not in school, they are in daycare. So, that just leaves the two of us to keep each other company. Ok, I just suck. I'm not 4 years old, and I'll never be that age again. No matter how hard I try to play with her or entertain her, it's just not quite right. So, she played with the dog and chased him through the house until she fell down and hurt her foot. Then I became useful, and she liked me. *laughs* Oh, did I tell you that she said I have a big butt? *chuckles* That's SO not funny, but yet it is. DH had a talk with her about how it isn't nice to make jokes about how other people look. She used to talk about how she needed to eat more so she could have a nice round belly like mommy's, and while I was (am) embarassed, it wasn't too bothersome. She meant it in a different way when she said I had a big butt though, while pointing out to me that she has a small butt. Hmmm... yeah, I hadn't noticed. *rolls eyes* Silly girl. She had better be nice to me, or I'm gonna have to show her my big foot, and how it compares to her little butt. *chuckles* Ok, so not seriously, but I'll joke about it anyway. All I have to do is give her the look, and she's flinging herself around my neck, apologizing. She's like me in so many ways. Poor kid. lol

Alright. I ran out of words. I guess I'm off to do something else for a while........

Before too long, it will be May. Wow, that particular month has been hard for me, and I am surprised that I am feeling bad ahead of time. I would say that for the last couple months, I have had this sadness flirting with me. It's such a complicated situation, and I wish that I really had someone to talk to.

This May, I have to contend with Mother's Day again, along with my sons's birth/death day. I know that it sounds odd to some people that I would be upset on Mother's Day, especially being that I have a beautiful little girl and my own Mama to think about. I'm not sure that I'll ever really enjoy the day though. Back when I was pregnant with my son, my mom was a real sweetheart, and she sent me a Mother's Day card before Trystin was born. It was the most darling thing, and I have always appreciated my mom's soft heart for those sort of things. There was no way for her to know that approximately a week later, my baby would die. When she went to my home to clean the bathroom (I was freaking out about having to clean up all the blood), Mom also put away a lot of the baby things that we had aquired, along with the card. However, no matter where she tucked the card away, the happy memory always pops into my head each year. It's a bittersweet thing, remembering such happiness and hope. I think that was the last time I ever felt that way about babies, even though I became pregnant with DD three months after Trystin died.

I love my daughter, and I don't want her to ever grow up feeling as though she got less of me, and that I wasn't tremendously happy to have her. I am. I'm so in love with that little girl that it scares me. Lately, I have had to make war with a soul-deep fear that she will get sick on me, and that she'll die. DH doesn't understand exactly how I feel, so we had a little bit of a problem the other day while visiting at my sister's house. I should have guarded my tongue better. I guess it shows just what is in my heart, at least in part, that I was so quick to bite back at him for allowing something that worried me so deeply.

Sis lives in a townhouse where the living space is located upstairs, above the garage. It is a lovely place, but because of that, the first flight of stairs is pretty steep. When I was a young girl, I had a bad accident at home, and I tumbled headfirst down a flight of stairs and had to be taken to the hospital. My mom was pretty freaked out because she was afraid that I had broken my neck, with the way that I had landed. I was hurt pretty bad, but nothing was broken. However, I am terribly protective of DD around stairs. I even fuss at DH about running up and down stairs, and carrying awkward things down to the basement. He thinks that I am being silly. Anyway, he let DD walk down the stairs all by herself, while carrying an oversized shopping bag full of toys. She was almost to the bottom of the stairs when I saw what was happening, but I still got that cold chill running down my back. I asked him why he didn't hold her hand, and he said that she was big enough to do it herself. So, I asked him how he would have felt if she would have fallen while trying to manage that large bag, and he said that if she got hurt, she would be more careful the next time. With the terrible image of my little girl lying at the bottom of the stairs, broken, I snapped at him and called him an idiot. I'm ashamed for the way that I reacted, especially in front of my sister and her boyfriend. I guess Sis knew that something was wrong, because she knows that I don't act like that. As I sat on the bottom stair, putting DD's shoes on her, I could hear Sis explaining about the bad fall that I took.


I'm not sure that it is the stairs really, but that I am just afraid. Every day of her life, I am afraid of losing DD. I know that she belongs to God, and that He can take her home whenever He chooses. I'm just having a hard time coming to grips with reality that it is all on His terms. There is nothing that I can do to protect my daughter enough, to be diligent enough. I really put myself out on a limb, wanting to love another child again, and I'm not sure how well I could handle it if she died before me. It's almost ironic that I find myself dealing with the emotions that I tried so hard to put away when I was pregnant with her. I could feel this little girl rolling around in my womb, but I couldn't connect with her. I didn't dream about what her life would be like, nor did I even ready her room. I didn't want to become close to her because I knew that the chances were so high that I would lose her, and it would hurt so much more. I didn't want to deal with it then, but I'm having to deal with it now. I am definitely attached and just in love with this little creature. Every time I see a commercial on tv about people killed by drunk drivers, I inwardly cringe. Every time the shows about St. Jude Children's Hospital comes on, I see DD in a bed with no hair, her eyes sucken in. I guess that is just the truth concerning such a vital condition as love. It leaves a bit vulnerable spot right in the middle of your heart.

You know, I thank God every day for loving me enough to take on flesh and die for me. I don't know how unbelievers live through traumatic events and want to bother with taking another breath. I have watched people around me die, and maybe it gets easier to deal with the reality of it on one hand. On the other, I would be tempted to live in debilitating fear every day of my life. But, I still let DD ride her bike down the sidewalk, even though a car could hop the curb. I still let her play with sticks, even though she could poke her eye out. Snow angels are still fun, even though she could get pnemonia. I still want her to find happiness in marriage, even though she could end up with an abusive man who might beat her. I hope the best for her in childbearing, though it has the potential to bring sadness and pain. I want her to have the best in the world, and beyond. I guess that is why it is so important to me that she knows about God and comes to love Him. Without God, there is no hope. If I had no reassurance that the people that I love would be cared for ok after death, I'm not sure if I could cope. God is such a "great guy" for loving us enough to take the real fear out of death. Of course, no one likes the thought of dying. I'm sure that in a lot of cases, it isn't a pleasant proccess. I'll admit to being a little afraid of how I will die, or those that I love. But, at least I know that it is just a doorway, and not the destination. It helps me to relax a little, and not get quite so worked up as I normally would. I guess that as for the remaining fear that I deal with, I've got to do a lot more praying. It's ok though. He hears me. He knows, and He understands.

Oh, and I wrote this like this on purpose....

Last night was enjoyable for me, especially being that I've been somewhat lonely lately.

Last evening, DH called and said that he forgot his wallet at home, and realized that he probably didn't have enough gas to get home. So, I very carefully drove the car up to his workplace to bring him his wallet. Since we were there, DH showed me some furniture that his boss had offered to sell him from their model apartment. We looked things over, and though the price was reasonable, it was still more than we could feel comfortable spending the money on. DH is so funny, because every time there is a larger amount of money to manage, he always brings me in for my opinion. It isn't that I'm better with money or smarter, but that he finds it nearly impossible to give our money away. *laughs* I am the one who pays the mortgage and utility bills. Heehee...  He doesn't have a problem spending my grocery shopping money though. *cracks up* How can a guy like cookies and beef jerky so much? Anywho, we decided not to purchase the furniture, but I did inquire about a couple large pictures that were on the walls. He said that they were going for $10 a piece, so I asked if he would buy me two of them. There was one in particular that I really love, because it reminds me of my grandma in Florida. Oh, and I asked him to inquire about the ironing board that they had sitting out. I'm currently ironing clothing on the top of our table, with a towel folded over the wood.

After we got home, we all sat down to a simple dinner of chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes with butter and chives. It was somewhat late, and none of us were too enthused about dinner, for some reason. DD and I had a late lunch though, so that might have been part of the "problem".

Settling in, DH and I thought that we would be able to watch a movie after DD went to bed, but things didn't work out that way. As I was scrubbing DD in the bath tub, Sis came over with her family. As I was squeezing water out of DD's hair, I heard my sister exclaiming from the living room that her baby somewho had poo all the way up his back. *laughs* I just hollered to her that it wouldn't be the last time. I remember plenty of diaper horror stories with DD when she was small. So, Sis cleaned him up as best that she could, and I took him in the bath tub after I got DD wrapped in a towel. It was funny to wash little Pooh Bear, because Sis wanted to help me, being that this was his first tub bath. So, she took her shoes off and rolled up her pant-legs so she could stand in the water. She held him up part way, and I washed him. It was a real trip to see the two of us fumbling around with a wet baby. Sis thought it was really funny that I put a wet cloth over his private parts, so he couldn't pee on me. *laughs* I'm just not used to boys. :o )

After the children were all dried and changed, we sat around for a little bit to talk. DD put us in an awkward spot by making inquiries into nursing, but we tried to answer her questions as best that we could. Then I shuffled her off to bed, read her a "bed-night" story (DD speak), and tucked her in. By that point, the guys came in from the garage, all happy and dirty. It's funny how guys can be like that, happy to be covered in oil and stinking of carb cleaner. Our edger still doesn't work, by the way. *chuckles* They did boast about having a fire started on the garage floor though. *rolls eyes* Silly bugs.

Sorry about the lateness of my post. My carpel tunnel has been acting up real bad. I'm here though!! Yay! For more insight on the book  "Created To Be His Help Meet", please visit the following bloggies:

My Three Pennies, Walking Circumspectly, RosesandTeax2, and Stand Up and Walk

Reflections on ....

Created To Be His Help Meet

By Debi Pearl

Chapter 9

Finding Your Life in His

~From the beginning, God meant for us to be a comfort, a blessing,
a reward, a friend, an encouragement, and a right-hand wo-man.~

In this chapter, Debi talks a lot about how women so often have this idea of what their marriage and family life should be like, and they refuse to accept any change. To illustrate her point, Debi referenced the movie "Dad", in which an older gentleman talks frequently about a life and family that have never been his, except for in his mind. All of the things that he lacked so deeply in his life, he created for himself in a personal fantasy. I don't know about anyone else, but when my husband envisions his loving companion, I want my face to be the one that he sees when he closes his eyes.

Back when my husband was first deciding where he was going to invest his energy, I made some good choices. I am not sure if it is because I have always been less than wealthy, but it didn't bother me much, whatever he decided to do as a career. Some days, he wanted to go back into construction business. I never pressured him, but because he didn't want me worrying about him every day, he set that aside. Then we were on to auto mechanics. I don't know how he managed it, but my lovely man would leave work, spend time with me, and run off to school each evening until he just dropped from exhaustion. Finally, he found his niche with commercial maintenance, and he has really made it work for him.

If you love a man who physically labors at his job, I am sure that you understand what I mean when I stress how much I have to show my respect for my husband's hard work. If I were to sit back and complain that he doesn't have a "respectable enough" job or fuss over shopping at thrift stores, it would tear his heart right out. The fastest way for me to kill the spirit in my husband is for me to show or tell him that his work isn't good enough, that our life isn't good enough, that he isn't good enough. I just won't do that to him, whether he is turning a wrench, studying expense reports, or disposing of other peoples' garbage. If it makes him happy, then I will be happy for him. A large part of me 'finding my life in his' has been cultivating loyalty. I may not be as flexible a creature as I possibly could be, but I will follow him anywhere. I don't want my husband designing a fantasy wife, someone who loves him as he is, and embraces the life he works so hard to make for himself and his family.

"Adam commenced his rule of the planet before God created Eve to help him with his life's goals. Adam didn't need to get Eve's consent. God gave her to Adam to be HIS helper, not his partner. She was designed to serve, not to be served...."

Oh boy, it keeps coming back to that "it's not all about me" thing, again. It's funny how that happens. It took me a while to realize that our marriage wasn't going to be about my husband sacrificing to help me reach the goals that I had set for myself. More than anything, it was difficult for me to accept that there was an order to things, that we would not be sharing every role 50/50. My husband never sought to "put me in my place". My mostly Mr. Steady has only ever wanted peace with me, but I will admit that there were times when I would make war with him over silly things. For example, how many times did I fuss at him to help me wash the dishes or clean our home, even though he worked full time and was very tired when he came home? How many times would I stomp my feet like a child when my husband wanted to go and do something without me, like have a cup of coffee with an old friend? He certainly didn't need my permission, but I acted as though he did. Having a heart of service is something that I have really had to cultivate, but I am very happy with the results that I am getting. The more that I work on having a heart that is happy by helping my husband, the more joyful that I am, and the easier our days go. First, I had to get it out of my head that my husband was my errand boy.

Chapter 10

Reactions Define You

~A wise woman does not dream of what "could have been."
She does not see herself as "God's gift to men;"
therefore, she is joyful and content in her present circumstances.~

"Your reactions break you loose from your social inhibitions and manifest who you really are inside and what you really believe at your core level."

"The heart is filled with thoughts, and it is out of that reservoir of thoughts that the mouth speaks words of praise or bitterness."

"You are what you think, and God tells you how to think; Think the truth. This is not the power of positive thinking; this is the power of the truth as God defines it."