Monday, January 28, 2008
5 Wonderful Years
Saturday was my fifth anniversary. Five Years! Wow! Who would have ever thought that five years would pass so fast. I truly believe that I am married to my lifelong friend and companion. I woke up on Saturday morning and thought about the day Frank asked me to marry him and the day we tied the knot. Our church has had more expensive weddings....but mine was the best...I think every bride feels that way.....but mine was the first wedding to ever take place in the Arbor....and the first to take place at the end of a service. It was a wonderful day....all our friends were there.....and Frank had never looked more handsome. Well....that is not true....Frank always looks handsome...especially in a suit. After that day.....we have lived a whirlwind life. Frank went on an Emmaus walk two weeks after we got married....and the seed was planted for what has been happening this past year. These past five years have been interesting to say the least. Who would have thought five years ago that I would become a preacher's wife. It amazes me every week to see my husband grow as a spiritual leader and guide. I cannot wait for him to get through with licensing school and start doing all the fun stuff at the church like infant baptisms, weddings, communion. He has the sweetest demeanor when he stands before his congregation. He holds his power cross in his hand and sometimes grips it til his fingers turn red. I have to smile on those days. Anyone would think he was most comfortable standing before a group and speaking....but I know better. Five years....and I am so thankful to God for this wonderful godly man I call my husband. I look forward to many more years....many more churches....many more wonderful adventures. Thank you Lord for this wonderful blessing.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Of Peas and Carrots
Hah.
A commercial just came on the TV with Jo Frost (Supernanny) on it.
She was all, "Come down to the mall and see if your family is my next mission," or something like that.
I wonder if she's available for rent?
I'm tempted to go down on Saturday and wait in line. Then when I get up to the front I'd be all, "Hi. I don't want to be on the show. I just want to rent Jo Frost."
I'm sure Jo won't even be there. It'll be producers of the show and they'll blink up at me in confusion.
"Um," one would say. "Jo Frost isn't for rent. She's a human being. You can't rent human beings. This is to be on the show."
I'd nod like I understood perfectly. "Technically human beings can be rented. Aren't strippers rented?"
The producers would be horrified. "Madam, are you referring to Jo Frost as a," her voice would dip low, "a stripper?"
I'd wave my hand in the air. "Of COURSE not. But I could really use her help. I don't think my children are bad enough to be on TV. I mean have you SEEN some of the children on the show? I mean obviously you have, you're the producers but holy crap. There was this one mother who gave her children soda and she was wondering why they were bouncing off the walls. There was another who let her children play in the street and looked completely baffled when Jo told her it was wrong. No, my son has ADHD and has his moments but he's not like those children. I'd just need to ask Jo a few questions, that's all."
The producers would shake their heads. "No. You may only speak to Jo if you appear on the show."
Well hmph then.
Anyhow.
I just got back from my meeting with the nutrionalist. It was about Natalie's slow weight gain.
I had to write out a list of foods that I gave her for the week. I handed it over worried that the lady would tsk tsk and say that I was feeding my child ALL WRONG and I should be ASHAMED of myself.
Thankfully she didn't.
She flipped through the papers and went, "Well, it looks like she's eating enough. However.."
Ahh the however.
She wants me to add in some protein. Whether it be from beans or meat.
And add things like yogurt or cottage cheese.
The thing is, when I give Natalie people food she just plays with it. Or she'll take a bite, go BLAH and drip it down her front.
Feeding Natalie is not a neat experience in the least. When she doesn't want to eat, she doesn't want to eat. You can't pry her mouth open for nothing. She'll just look at you like, "Um hello. Not hungry. Piss off."
I tried Natalie on yogurt the other day and she looked offended that I'd dare try to give her such crap. She opened her mouth for the spoon and the minute I stuck it in her mouth she yelped. Then spit the yogurt all over the place and howled.
I've given her crackers and she either plays with them or gags on them.
I was also told I could give her pieces of whatever we're having for dinner.
"Won't she choke?" I asked.
I'm always paranoid about choking.
But no, so long as I give her small pieces she should be okay.
Oh, and I have to give her more vegetables. She won't eat many jarred veggies. I tried to give her green beans and you'd think I served her the contents of her diaper on a spoon.
And yes, she screamed.
I tried to give her some veggies when we have them for dinner but she just plays with them.
"Ooo look at this round green thing. Weeee!"
"Natalie, that's a pea and I'd like you to eat it," I said gently.
"Weeee!" She rolled it around her high chair tray. "It ROLLS!"
"Natalie, we eat our veggies. See, look at Mommy. Yum yum. Peas and carrots. So good."
"You're a strange lady. Why would you eat the round green thing? It's so much FUNNNN.."
Yeah.
Stubborn girl.
However, the nutrionalist said that Natalie looked very healthy but to just try to get her to eat more. Apparently she should be getting 615 calories with 10 g of protein per day.
Also, I have started using formula to mix in with her cereal. I hated to do it but when I spoke to the nutrionalist on the phone she suggested it. And I can't seem to pump anything out worth a damn so I just started using the formula. Which, holy crap, is expensive. I get her the one with DHA in it--I figure if I have to give her the stuff it might as well be as good as it can be.
It's just for cereal usage though. I won't ever give her a bottle of it. I want her to nurse as long as she wants.
I noticed that formula has a weird smell too. And I hate the name FORMULA. It makes me think of scientists and Frankenstein or something.
Natalie goes into the doctor for a weight check on Monday. They didn't do it there since they don't have the proper scale for babies.
I hope Natalie is at least 15 lbs. But I doubt it. I figure she'll be like 14 lbs 3 oz or something.
On the way out I noticed people working out in the weight room. I was in a gym by the way. And one of the guys resembled Elijah Wood. I was all, "Elijah Wood is in the GYM!" and then I thought, "Um Amber. Why would Elijah Wood be HERE?"
Although it would make sense. I could get celebrities on the base and the paparazzi wouldn't be allowed on. Hah.
Elijah, come here. I shall protect you from the paparazzi!
I realized that it was NOT Elijah Wood by the way. Obviously.
I think I was just hungry. When I'm hungry I tend to see things. One time I swore I saw a bear prancing around in a pink tutu.
Also, I found out that there is a children's room so I could work out!
I'm not sure if it costs anything though.
I need to ask. But I will SO go to the gym starting in April. Mainly because there is a pool at our hotel in Disney and I don't want to scare people in my swimsuit.
It would be great if I could get back down to 105, which was my high school weight.
So starting in April I'll begin Operation Get My High School Body Back.
A commercial just came on the TV with Jo Frost (Supernanny) on it.
She was all, "Come down to the mall and see if your family is my next mission," or something like that.
I wonder if she's available for rent?
I'm tempted to go down on Saturday and wait in line. Then when I get up to the front I'd be all, "Hi. I don't want to be on the show. I just want to rent Jo Frost."
I'm sure Jo won't even be there. It'll be producers of the show and they'll blink up at me in confusion.
"Um," one would say. "Jo Frost isn't for rent. She's a human being. You can't rent human beings. This is to be on the show."
I'd nod like I understood perfectly. "Technically human beings can be rented. Aren't strippers rented?"
The producers would be horrified. "Madam, are you referring to Jo Frost as a," her voice would dip low, "a stripper?"
I'd wave my hand in the air. "Of COURSE not. But I could really use her help. I don't think my children are bad enough to be on TV. I mean have you SEEN some of the children on the show? I mean obviously you have, you're the producers but holy crap. There was this one mother who gave her children soda and she was wondering why they were bouncing off the walls. There was another who let her children play in the street and looked completely baffled when Jo told her it was wrong. No, my son has ADHD and has his moments but he's not like those children. I'd just need to ask Jo a few questions, that's all."
The producers would shake their heads. "No. You may only speak to Jo if you appear on the show."
Well hmph then.
Anyhow.
I just got back from my meeting with the nutrionalist. It was about Natalie's slow weight gain.
I had to write out a list of foods that I gave her for the week. I handed it over worried that the lady would tsk tsk and say that I was feeding my child ALL WRONG and I should be ASHAMED of myself.
Thankfully she didn't.
She flipped through the papers and went, "Well, it looks like she's eating enough. However.."
Ahh the however.
She wants me to add in some protein. Whether it be from beans or meat.
And add things like yogurt or cottage cheese.
The thing is, when I give Natalie people food she just plays with it. Or she'll take a bite, go BLAH and drip it down her front.
Feeding Natalie is not a neat experience in the least. When she doesn't want to eat, she doesn't want to eat. You can't pry her mouth open for nothing. She'll just look at you like, "Um hello. Not hungry. Piss off."
I tried Natalie on yogurt the other day and she looked offended that I'd dare try to give her such crap. She opened her mouth for the spoon and the minute I stuck it in her mouth she yelped. Then spit the yogurt all over the place and howled.
I've given her crackers and she either plays with them or gags on them.
I was also told I could give her pieces of whatever we're having for dinner.
"Won't she choke?" I asked.
I'm always paranoid about choking.
But no, so long as I give her small pieces she should be okay.
Oh, and I have to give her more vegetables. She won't eat many jarred veggies. I tried to give her green beans and you'd think I served her the contents of her diaper on a spoon.
And yes, she screamed.
I tried to give her some veggies when we have them for dinner but she just plays with them.
"Ooo look at this round green thing. Weeee!"
"Natalie, that's a pea and I'd like you to eat it," I said gently.
"Weeee!" She rolled it around her high chair tray. "It ROLLS!"
"Natalie, we eat our veggies. See, look at Mommy. Yum yum. Peas and carrots. So good."
"You're a strange lady. Why would you eat the round green thing? It's so much FUNNNN.."
Yeah.
Stubborn girl.
However, the nutrionalist said that Natalie looked very healthy but to just try to get her to eat more. Apparently she should be getting 615 calories with 10 g of protein per day.
Also, I have started using formula to mix in with her cereal. I hated to do it but when I spoke to the nutrionalist on the phone she suggested it. And I can't seem to pump anything out worth a damn so I just started using the formula. Which, holy crap, is expensive. I get her the one with DHA in it--I figure if I have to give her the stuff it might as well be as good as it can be.
It's just for cereal usage though. I won't ever give her a bottle of it. I want her to nurse as long as she wants.
I noticed that formula has a weird smell too. And I hate the name FORMULA. It makes me think of scientists and Frankenstein or something.
Natalie goes into the doctor for a weight check on Monday. They didn't do it there since they don't have the proper scale for babies.
I hope Natalie is at least 15 lbs. But I doubt it. I figure she'll be like 14 lbs 3 oz or something.
On the way out I noticed people working out in the weight room. I was in a gym by the way. And one of the guys resembled Elijah Wood. I was all, "Elijah Wood is in the GYM!" and then I thought, "Um Amber. Why would Elijah Wood be HERE?"
Although it would make sense. I could get celebrities on the base and the paparazzi wouldn't be allowed on. Hah.
Elijah, come here. I shall protect you from the paparazzi!
I realized that it was NOT Elijah Wood by the way. Obviously.
I think I was just hungry. When I'm hungry I tend to see things. One time I swore I saw a bear prancing around in a pink tutu.
Also, I found out that there is a children's room so I could work out!
I'm not sure if it costs anything though.
I need to ask. But I will SO go to the gym starting in April. Mainly because there is a pool at our hotel in Disney and I don't want to scare people in my swimsuit.
It would be great if I could get back down to 105, which was my high school weight.
So starting in April I'll begin Operation Get My High School Body Back.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
To The Dentist We Went
Yesterday Tommy had a dentist appointment. He was a bit nervous about it. I managed to find him an appointment at a pediatric dentist because I knew they'd probably be more patient with Tommy.
Thankfully they accepted Tricare which is the military dental insurance.
When we walked in they had a white board that read: "We welcome our new patients," and then it listed all the children's names. Tommy spotted his right away.
"Mommy look!" he said, pointing to his name. "It's ME!" Then he pointed to the other names. "What's this say?"
I read all the names to him and he nodded seriously.
He was called back a few minutes later. I was able to walk back with him. First they led him into a room for X-rays.
And here's where some trouble started.
See, Tommy inherited my gag reflex. So when the lady tried to get the X-ray thing into his mouth, he kept gagging it out. I have the same problem. I really have to breathe hard through my nose or else I will totally gag.
The lady kept trying to get the thing into Tommy's mouth.
"Okay bite down on it..bite down..that's right..that's--" she would say. And then Tommy would gag it out.
She tried so many different ways.
It just wasn't working.
Towards the end Tommy went, "I'm done. Stop it!"
In the end, no x-rays were taken because he just couldn't keep it in his mouth.
We were led back into a bigger room where a lot of dentist chairs were laid out. There were two other patients in the room and the nurses were working on their teeth. (They're nurses in a dentist office too, right? I've no idea..I'm assuming.)
Tommy was asked to lay back in the chair. Above him was a TV screen that was playing a cartoon.
"Do you want to watch Brother Bear of A Bugs Life?" the nurse asked him.
"Hmmm," Tommy said tapping his chin. (Obviously this was a very important decision.) "Brother Bear. We don't have that movie."
So she flipped a switch and put some earphones on him.
I'd like to mention that at this point, I was starting to have a mini panic attack.
I can't stand dentists.
I haven't been in a long long time. I know, shame on me. But I seriously get panic attacks. I feel like I'm going to pass out and burst into tears. Which is why I can understand how Tommy must feel when he cries in the classroom.
The nurse noticed me standing there and asked if I wanted to sit down.
"You look a little pale," she observed, pushing a stool over to me.
"I--I'm fine," I said, settling down into the seat.
Breathe, breathe, breathe..
The room thankfully stopped spinning and I tried to tune out the buzzing of the equipment.
Another thing, I didn't get a chance to brush my teeth before I arrived there. And I just KNOW that everyone who works there stares at other people's teeth. I mean, I can't blame them after all. They work in a dentist office.
I totally meant to brush my teeth before I left too. But I ran out of time. I had to change Natalie's diaper, then I had to get Tom up so he could watch Natalie and then before I knew it, it was time to go. At least I brushed Tommy's teeth before we left. I did it for him, which weirded him out.
"Let me!" he shouted as I started to brush his teeth. "I'm a big boy now."
"I know but we have to make sure we do a very good job," I explained.
"Bahdklj," Tommy said.
(I couldn't quite understand him because at this point I was brushing his back teeth. I'm assuming he said "But why.")
"Because," I said. "We don't want to get lectured. Mommy always got lectured when I saw the dentist. Because I never flossed. And then the dentist would give me a huge lecture on the importance of flossing and make Mommy feel like a child. Then the dentist would actually SHOW me how to floss."
"Kjlkafdjk," Tommy responded.
"I know. Mommy hasn't been to the dentist in a long time, which is bad of her. Don't be like Mommy. You need to always go to the dentist. Okay, you can spit."
Tommy spit and then washed his mouth out with water and spit again. "Is it time to go?" he asked.
I realized it was. I went in to wake up Tom.
"Huh?" he asked, as I rubbed his back. "Is it morning or night?" He lifted his head up slightly, blinked rapidly, and then smashed his face back into his pillow. And stopped moving. I realized he had gone back to sleep.
I shook his arm. "Tom? You need to wake up. Remember? You're watching Natalie so I can take Tommy to the dentist."
Tom lifted his head up again. "Is it morning or night?"
Oh for--
"Tom, it's the AFTERNOON and I'm running late. Please wake up and take the baby so I can go!"
Tom blinked rapidly again. "Huh?"
I set Natalie beside him. She went, "Ahh Dad!" and slapped his arm.
Who's this? I have a baby? What the-- was clearly Tom's expression.
Finally everything seemed to compute and he sat up. "Oh. Okay. Yeah," he mumbled to himself.
I gave him a quick kiss, gave Natalie a quick kiss and then we were off.
So you see, I didn't have time to brush my teeth.
And I realized it when we were in the waiting room at the dentist office.
So when the nurse started asking me questions about where I was from and all of that, I totally pulled a Ross from Friends.
Remember the episode where he overdyed his teeth and they were horribly bright? So he tried to shield his mouth when he talked to his date?
That's what I tried to do.
When the nurse asked me where we lived I pretended I had an itch on my upper lip. So I covered my mouth and answered, "On the base."
She nodded. "Awesome."
Then she explained to Tommy that she was going to brush his teeth for him. She explained how to brush his teeth--in a circular motion--and then asked if Tommy flossed.
"Er.." I debated lying. But I didn't. "No.." I answered this while pretending my shoe needed to be tied so she couldn't see my mouth.
I swear, they have a sense when someone hasn't brushed. I mean I had brushed after lunch so it wasn't like I had disgusting gritty teeth with lettuce between my teeth. But I know they must sense these things. I picture the dentists gathered together going, "Okay you know that patient in chair two? His Mom totally didn't brush her teeth."
"Well here is how you floss his teeth," the nurse explained and then showed me.
"I don't like that," Tommy explained to her when she finished.
"I know. But it keeps your teeth healthy," she answered in a sing song voice.
Then she said she was going to brush his teeth with her power brusher thingy.
"I don't think so," Tommy said, struggling to sit up.
"Sweetie, it's okay," I said, rubbing his stomach. "It'll make your teeth nice and white."
Tommy looked unsure.
"It'll be fine," the nurse reassured him. "I'll be quick."
Tommy reluctantly opened his mouth and the nurse started.
Tommy winced. "Ahh!" he screeched. "I don't LIKE it. STOP!"
The nurse pulled the brusher from his mouth and Tommy tried to get out of the seat.
"It's okay," she said.
"Can you be brave, Tommy?" I asked.
Tommy allowed her finish but he was wincing and every so often he'd go, "Ahhh!" But he allowed her to finish.
When she was done, she explained that the doctor would be back shortly.
"Okay," I said, pretending my cheek had an itch.
(She probably thought I was spastic or something.)
The doctor came back a few minutes later. He was this older guy who was really friendly. He made Tommy laugh and then he said he was just going to look at Tommy's teeth and count them.
As he counted them he said some things that made no sense to me for the nurse to write down on Tommy's chart.
"Bilateral immenient a prece a prace," he garbled.
(That wasn't what he really said. But that's how it sounded to me. I don't speak Dentist.)
It turns out that translated it meant that Tommy's teeth looked great. He marveled at how white they were.
And..
No cavities!
Thank goodness. I don't know how I would have gotten Tommy to sit through that.
When he was done he let the nurse give Tommy the flouride. Usually they put that in those tray thingies but because they knew Tommy had that gag reflex they just painted it on his teeth.
I hated those tray things. Those made me gag too. Again I'd have to breathe through my nose or else I'd start to panic and then gag it out.
Because Tommy had no cavities he got to pick out a toy and wear a sticker that said: "I belong to the no cavities club."
Then I was able to make his next appointment--which is in July. And I made one for Natalie too. Apparently they like to see babies at a year old. How they're going to get a one-year-old to stay put is beyond me. But okay.
When we got home I called my parents to let them know that Tommy had a clean bill of teeth health.
"And have YOU gone to the dentist," Mom asked.
D'oh.
And I can't lie to my Mom so I croaked out, "Nooo.."
Of course the lecture started.
Then I could hear my Dad go, "What, what's happening?"
"Amber hasn't been to the dentist in a long time," Mom explained to him.
"Amber, you have to go to the dentist! It's very important. Your teeth are going to fall out of your head. Your teeth can KILL you if you don't take care of them. The nerves can travel to your heart. Do you want to DIE, Amber?" I could hear my Dad say in the background.
"Rick, Rick, I think she gets it," Mom said, trying to shush him.
"And if you don't take care of your teeth, you'll--" Dad continued.
But Mom must've moved into another room because I didn't hear him anymore.
"You MUST go to the dentist, Amber," Mom said sternly.
"I will," I said. "I just need to find one that gives me something so I don't panic."
"I think some offer laughing gas. Just find one that accepts Tricare and GO!" Mom said.
I promised I would.
And I will go.
I mean my teeth don't bother me at all.
But I know it's important.
I just really need one that helps with my panic attacks. I wish they could knock me out all together and I'd just wake up and they were done.
I just know that they'll probably want to take my wisdom teeth, which horrifies me because Tom went through that and he looked just awful when they were done. They stuck these cotton things in his mouth and he resembled a chipmunk. Then he told me horror stories of those who got dry sockets, which freaked me out even more.
Oh and Natalie was still alive when I got home.
Apparently she wanted to put Tom through Hell because she pooped. And Tom doesn't deal with poop diapers unless he has to.
When I walked through the door he was all, "Your daughter pooped. Then when I tried to change her she kept sticking her hand in her ass and her hand got covered in poop. So I tried to clean that but then she'd use her other hand to touch her ass."
I covered Tommy's ears. "Tom," I hissed. "Don't say the A-word."
Tom looked confused. "Oh. Right. Well she kept touching her butt and it was disgusting." He handed her to me.
"Did you call the pizza?" I asked.
Tom blinked. "Oh. I was supposed to do that?"
I rolled my eyes. "YES, Tom."
"Oh."
Tom called the pizza place and they showed up in like fifteen minutes.
Which is a record.
I gave them a five dollar tip.
The teenaged driver was pleased. "Really? Cool man, thanks," he said.
The pizza was delicious. Mmm..and the cinnasticks...
Thankfully they accepted Tricare which is the military dental insurance.
When we walked in they had a white board that read: "We welcome our new patients," and then it listed all the children's names. Tommy spotted his right away.
"Mommy look!" he said, pointing to his name. "It's ME!" Then he pointed to the other names. "What's this say?"
I read all the names to him and he nodded seriously.
He was called back a few minutes later. I was able to walk back with him. First they led him into a room for X-rays.
And here's where some trouble started.
See, Tommy inherited my gag reflex. So when the lady tried to get the X-ray thing into his mouth, he kept gagging it out. I have the same problem. I really have to breathe hard through my nose or else I will totally gag.
The lady kept trying to get the thing into Tommy's mouth.
"Okay bite down on it..bite down..that's right..that's--" she would say. And then Tommy would gag it out.
She tried so many different ways.
It just wasn't working.
Towards the end Tommy went, "I'm done. Stop it!"
In the end, no x-rays were taken because he just couldn't keep it in his mouth.
We were led back into a bigger room where a lot of dentist chairs were laid out. There were two other patients in the room and the nurses were working on their teeth. (They're nurses in a dentist office too, right? I've no idea..I'm assuming.)
Tommy was asked to lay back in the chair. Above him was a TV screen that was playing a cartoon.
"Do you want to watch Brother Bear of A Bugs Life?" the nurse asked him.
"Hmmm," Tommy said tapping his chin. (Obviously this was a very important decision.) "Brother Bear. We don't have that movie."
So she flipped a switch and put some earphones on him.
I'd like to mention that at this point, I was starting to have a mini panic attack.
I can't stand dentists.
I haven't been in a long long time. I know, shame on me. But I seriously get panic attacks. I feel like I'm going to pass out and burst into tears. Which is why I can understand how Tommy must feel when he cries in the classroom.
The nurse noticed me standing there and asked if I wanted to sit down.
"You look a little pale," she observed, pushing a stool over to me.
"I--I'm fine," I said, settling down into the seat.
Breathe, breathe, breathe..
The room thankfully stopped spinning and I tried to tune out the buzzing of the equipment.
Another thing, I didn't get a chance to brush my teeth before I arrived there. And I just KNOW that everyone who works there stares at other people's teeth. I mean, I can't blame them after all. They work in a dentist office.
I totally meant to brush my teeth before I left too. But I ran out of time. I had to change Natalie's diaper, then I had to get Tom up so he could watch Natalie and then before I knew it, it was time to go. At least I brushed Tommy's teeth before we left. I did it for him, which weirded him out.
"Let me!" he shouted as I started to brush his teeth. "I'm a big boy now."
"I know but we have to make sure we do a very good job," I explained.
"Bahdklj," Tommy said.
(I couldn't quite understand him because at this point I was brushing his back teeth. I'm assuming he said "But why.")
"Because," I said. "We don't want to get lectured. Mommy always got lectured when I saw the dentist. Because I never flossed. And then the dentist would give me a huge lecture on the importance of flossing and make Mommy feel like a child. Then the dentist would actually SHOW me how to floss."
"Kjlkafdjk," Tommy responded.
"I know. Mommy hasn't been to the dentist in a long time, which is bad of her. Don't be like Mommy. You need to always go to the dentist. Okay, you can spit."
Tommy spit and then washed his mouth out with water and spit again. "Is it time to go?" he asked.
I realized it was. I went in to wake up Tom.
"Huh?" he asked, as I rubbed his back. "Is it morning or night?" He lifted his head up slightly, blinked rapidly, and then smashed his face back into his pillow. And stopped moving. I realized he had gone back to sleep.
I shook his arm. "Tom? You need to wake up. Remember? You're watching Natalie so I can take Tommy to the dentist."
Tom lifted his head up again. "Is it morning or night?"
Oh for--
"Tom, it's the AFTERNOON and I'm running late. Please wake up and take the baby so I can go!"
Tom blinked rapidly again. "Huh?"
I set Natalie beside him. She went, "Ahh Dad!" and slapped his arm.
Who's this? I have a baby? What the-- was clearly Tom's expression.
Finally everything seemed to compute and he sat up. "Oh. Okay. Yeah," he mumbled to himself.
I gave him a quick kiss, gave Natalie a quick kiss and then we were off.
So you see, I didn't have time to brush my teeth.
And I realized it when we were in the waiting room at the dentist office.
So when the nurse started asking me questions about where I was from and all of that, I totally pulled a Ross from Friends.
Remember the episode where he overdyed his teeth and they were horribly bright? So he tried to shield his mouth when he talked to his date?
That's what I tried to do.
When the nurse asked me where we lived I pretended I had an itch on my upper lip. So I covered my mouth and answered, "On the base."
She nodded. "Awesome."
Then she explained to Tommy that she was going to brush his teeth for him. She explained how to brush his teeth--in a circular motion--and then asked if Tommy flossed.
"Er.." I debated lying. But I didn't. "No.." I answered this while pretending my shoe needed to be tied so she couldn't see my mouth.
I swear, they have a sense when someone hasn't brushed. I mean I had brushed after lunch so it wasn't like I had disgusting gritty teeth with lettuce between my teeth. But I know they must sense these things. I picture the dentists gathered together going, "Okay you know that patient in chair two? His Mom totally didn't brush her teeth."
"Well here is how you floss his teeth," the nurse explained and then showed me.
"I don't like that," Tommy explained to her when she finished.
"I know. But it keeps your teeth healthy," she answered in a sing song voice.
Then she said she was going to brush his teeth with her power brusher thingy.
"I don't think so," Tommy said, struggling to sit up.
"Sweetie, it's okay," I said, rubbing his stomach. "It'll make your teeth nice and white."
Tommy looked unsure.
"It'll be fine," the nurse reassured him. "I'll be quick."
Tommy reluctantly opened his mouth and the nurse started.
Tommy winced. "Ahh!" he screeched. "I don't LIKE it. STOP!"
The nurse pulled the brusher from his mouth and Tommy tried to get out of the seat.
"It's okay," she said.
"Can you be brave, Tommy?" I asked.
Tommy allowed her finish but he was wincing and every so often he'd go, "Ahhh!" But he allowed her to finish.
When she was done, she explained that the doctor would be back shortly.
"Okay," I said, pretending my cheek had an itch.
(She probably thought I was spastic or something.)
The doctor came back a few minutes later. He was this older guy who was really friendly. He made Tommy laugh and then he said he was just going to look at Tommy's teeth and count them.
As he counted them he said some things that made no sense to me for the nurse to write down on Tommy's chart.
"Bilateral immenient a prece a prace," he garbled.
(That wasn't what he really said. But that's how it sounded to me. I don't speak Dentist.)
It turns out that translated it meant that Tommy's teeth looked great. He marveled at how white they were.
And..
No cavities!
Thank goodness. I don't know how I would have gotten Tommy to sit through that.
When he was done he let the nurse give Tommy the flouride. Usually they put that in those tray thingies but because they knew Tommy had that gag reflex they just painted it on his teeth.
I hated those tray things. Those made me gag too. Again I'd have to breathe through my nose or else I'd start to panic and then gag it out.
Because Tommy had no cavities he got to pick out a toy and wear a sticker that said: "I belong to the no cavities club."
Then I was able to make his next appointment--which is in July. And I made one for Natalie too. Apparently they like to see babies at a year old. How they're going to get a one-year-old to stay put is beyond me. But okay.
When we got home I called my parents to let them know that Tommy had a clean bill of teeth health.
"And have YOU gone to the dentist," Mom asked.
D'oh.
And I can't lie to my Mom so I croaked out, "Nooo.."
Of course the lecture started.
Then I could hear my Dad go, "What, what's happening?"
"Amber hasn't been to the dentist in a long time," Mom explained to him.
"Amber, you have to go to the dentist! It's very important. Your teeth are going to fall out of your head. Your teeth can KILL you if you don't take care of them. The nerves can travel to your heart. Do you want to DIE, Amber?" I could hear my Dad say in the background.
"Rick, Rick, I think she gets it," Mom said, trying to shush him.
"And if you don't take care of your teeth, you'll--" Dad continued.
But Mom must've moved into another room because I didn't hear him anymore.
"You MUST go to the dentist, Amber," Mom said sternly.
"I will," I said. "I just need to find one that gives me something so I don't panic."
"I think some offer laughing gas. Just find one that accepts Tricare and GO!" Mom said.
I promised I would.
And I will go.
I mean my teeth don't bother me at all.
But I know it's important.
I just really need one that helps with my panic attacks. I wish they could knock me out all together and I'd just wake up and they were done.
I just know that they'll probably want to take my wisdom teeth, which horrifies me because Tom went through that and he looked just awful when they were done. They stuck these cotton things in his mouth and he resembled a chipmunk. Then he told me horror stories of those who got dry sockets, which freaked me out even more.
Oh and Natalie was still alive when I got home.
Apparently she wanted to put Tom through Hell because she pooped. And Tom doesn't deal with poop diapers unless he has to.
When I walked through the door he was all, "Your daughter pooped. Then when I tried to change her she kept sticking her hand in her ass and her hand got covered in poop. So I tried to clean that but then she'd use her other hand to touch her ass."
I covered Tommy's ears. "Tom," I hissed. "Don't say the A-word."
Tom looked confused. "Oh. Right. Well she kept touching her butt and it was disgusting." He handed her to me.
"Did you call the pizza?" I asked.
Tom blinked. "Oh. I was supposed to do that?"
I rolled my eyes. "YES, Tom."
"Oh."
Tom called the pizza place and they showed up in like fifteen minutes.
Which is a record.
I gave them a five dollar tip.
The teenaged driver was pleased. "Really? Cool man, thanks," he said.
The pizza was delicious. Mmm..and the cinnasticks...
A Long Weekend
This past weekend was a holiday weekend for both my husband and I. How cool is that? We decided to take a trip to Nashville to visit with two of my favorite people, Missi and Clay. I love going to see them....because we don't have to do stuff. it is not a weekend of running here and there. Visiting with them is a weekend of rest, relaxation, and revival. It was wonderful! On Saturday we stopped in at the Cokesbury and LifeWay bookstores. Never let it be said that we showed favoritism between the Methodists and Baptists. We left money in both places. On to the house where we cooked together, played cards, and watched old movies in front of a fireplace. Sunday was a gorgeous day and after a hearty breakfast we went to Grimeys and the OpryMills Mall. I love holding hands with my husband as we walk through crowds. It makes me feel protected and loved ....and special. Missi and I opted to have a hydro massage....and to be honest ....it did me in. The pressure of the water.....the heat....loverly.....the only thing that bothered me was the water on the backs of my thighs and feet....I am sooooo ticklish. We ate supper, watched more old movies, and enjoyed being together. Monday was return to reality time....and return we did. I found myself getting aggitated the closer we got to the house. Outside B'ham I had to stop myself and ask...."What is up with this?" My little voice...came back saying....reality check girlfriend....you are almost home and home is where the parents are. A small groan escaped from my thoughts. I had actually had a whole weekend....with no concerns about my parents....and the closer I got to the house....the more they were piling in on me. I closed my eyes briefly and asked God to keep me refreshed...and felt myself relaxing again....until my phone rang and my mother's ranting about us not being home....broke into my reverie. I bowed my head once more....enjoyed the moment....and finished the trip....God is so good to me. I know that he is not going to put anymore on me than I can handle....even though the devil sometimes makes it seem like he does. He doesn't. I returned home....loving my parents....and loving God for letting me love them. PTL.....revival trips are a good thing. Thanks Missi and Clay for the place to crash, the wonderful meals, and the great company....you both are the best!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Copy Cats
Apparently, we're copy cats.
My best friend Jennifer got a cat.
I made the mistake of telling Tom.
Then he got the idea in his head that we needed a cat.
Now.
Even though the agreement was that we'd wait until we came back from Disney.
But Tom couldn't get the idea of a cat out of his head.
He made the mistake of opening up the Animal Shelter webpage and browsing the cats that were up for adoption.
"Aww, look at this one!" he'd call out.
I'd refuse to look.
Looking leads to interest. Interest leads to buying.
Today, he wore me down.
I am a total cat person. Looking at all those cats made my heart melt.
"We can just go to the shelter. To look," Tom added.
Can anyone seriously go to a shelter and just look??
No, they can't.
I agreed.
We walked in and were told where all the cats were.
"We're just looking," I told lady firmly.
She just nodded and gave me a knowing look.
That's what they all say.
We walked back and found a bunch of kittens in a small room. Most of them were sleeping. One was chasing a ball back and forth.
I squatted down and peered in.
That cat who was chasing a ball walked up and pressed his nose against the window. Then he pressed his paw up.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
"I'm sorry, kitty. We're just looking," I said.
The paw remained against the window.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
"Kitty, I can't," I said firmly.
"Aww Amber," Tom said from behind me. "Just play with it."
"Playing leads to adopting," I hissed.
"Just play with it," Tom said and then he went off to ask for help.
A few minutes later a worker came back and got the cat out for me.
"You can go in that room and play with him," she said, pointing. "I'll come in with you with some paperwork."
Paperwork??!!
"We're just looking," I said firmly.
But then she placed the cat in my arms. So soft. So tiny.
"He's a really good cat," she told me. "He's litterbox trained."
Litterbox trained?
"He's also already neutered," she added.
"We're just looking," I repeated, less firmly as the cat pressed his nose against my chin.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
"You guys can talk it over. I'll be right back," she said, shutting the door behind her.
The cat started PURRING.
"Aww kitty, I just can't," I said, setting him down. He immediately started playing with a piece of string.
"Amber, he's so cute," Tom piped up.
As if on cue, Natalie laughed at the cat.
"Tom," I hissed. "We're just here to look. I don't think I can take another penis in the house. I'd be the one stuck taking care of it. Who would clean out the litter box? Me, that's who."
"I'd help," Tom promised.
"Tom, I.."
The kitty came over and sat in my lap.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
The worker came back in with a clipboard of papers.
"So? Have we decided?"
Tom stared at me.
I HATE when he does this. Makes me make the decisions.
"I," I started. "I..I mean.."
"Mew," the kitty said.
"He is litterbox trained," Tom said.
"And he's a good cat," the worker added. She could tell that Tom needed her help. I swear I saw her wink at him at one point.
Mwhaha. We will convince your wife to take this cat.
"I mean..what if he scratches Natalie? Or bites her? Or suffocates her?" I said.
"Amber. I highly doubt the cat is going to suffocate Natalie," Tom said with a roll of the eyes. He gave the worker a Look.
Sorry. My wife is one of those paranoid mothers.
"The cat would only be $40. All his shots are updated except his rabies shot. You get a free visit to a vet of your choice so it can look the cat over to make sure everything is okay," the worker said.
"We have nothing to take the cat home in," I said.
"We give you a box to take him home in," the worker said triumphantly.
"We have no litter box or food."
"We give you a free bag of food."
"And we can go to Wal-Mart and get a litter box," Tom piped in.
Geez.
They both stared at me.
Even Natalie stared at me.
Even the cat stared at me.
"Oh...I mean...I guess," I said weakly as the cat began to purr.
Ten minutes later we were signing adoption papers.
How did that happen??!!
So..
Without further ado, meet Max:
It took us awhile to come up with a name.
Tom was all, "Let's name him Rommel!"
Apparently he was a general in World War 2.
"Um, no," I said. "How about Beans?"
Tom made a face. "As in Beans Beans the magical fruit? Next," Tom said.
"Henry," I suggested. "For Henry VIII."
"No," Tom replied. "Churchill. Panzer."
"Panzer?"
"As in a Panzer Tank!" Tom said.
"No."
"P-38. B-17," Tom shot off.
"Sunny," I said.
"Sunny? No way."
"Well you wanted to name him B-17!"
"That was a joke. He can be called Rambo."
"Tom honestly. Rambo?"
It went on and on.
Finally, I piped up with, "He sort of looks like a Max."
Tom went, "You know, that name popped in my head too. He does look like a Max."
So Max it is.
Max is currently sleeping in his bed thing that we bought him.
Tommy thinks he's cool.
Natalie thinks he's hilarious. Look Ma! The bushy thing moves!
So I guess I made the right decision...
My best friend Jennifer got a cat.
I made the mistake of telling Tom.
Then he got the idea in his head that we needed a cat.
Now.
Even though the agreement was that we'd wait until we came back from Disney.
But Tom couldn't get the idea of a cat out of his head.
He made the mistake of opening up the Animal Shelter webpage and browsing the cats that were up for adoption.
"Aww, look at this one!" he'd call out.
I'd refuse to look.
Looking leads to interest. Interest leads to buying.
Today, he wore me down.
I am a total cat person. Looking at all those cats made my heart melt.
"We can just go to the shelter. To look," Tom added.
Can anyone seriously go to a shelter and just look??
No, they can't.
I agreed.
We walked in and were told where all the cats were.
"We're just looking," I told lady firmly.
She just nodded and gave me a knowing look.
That's what they all say.
We walked back and found a bunch of kittens in a small room. Most of them were sleeping. One was chasing a ball back and forth.
I squatted down and peered in.
That cat who was chasing a ball walked up and pressed his nose against the window. Then he pressed his paw up.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
"I'm sorry, kitty. We're just looking," I said.
The paw remained against the window.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
"Kitty, I can't," I said firmly.
"Aww Amber," Tom said from behind me. "Just play with it."
"Playing leads to adopting," I hissed.
"Just play with it," Tom said and then he went off to ask for help.
A few minutes later a worker came back and got the cat out for me.
"You can go in that room and play with him," she said, pointing. "I'll come in with you with some paperwork."
Paperwork??!!
"We're just looking," I said firmly.
But then she placed the cat in my arms. So soft. So tiny.
"He's a really good cat," she told me. "He's litterbox trained."
Litterbox trained?
"He's also already neutered," she added.
"We're just looking," I repeated, less firmly as the cat pressed his nose against my chin.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
"You guys can talk it over. I'll be right back," she said, shutting the door behind her.
The cat started PURRING.
"Aww kitty, I just can't," I said, setting him down. He immediately started playing with a piece of string.
"Amber, he's so cute," Tom piped up.
As if on cue, Natalie laughed at the cat.
"Tom," I hissed. "We're just here to look. I don't think I can take another penis in the house. I'd be the one stuck taking care of it. Who would clean out the litter box? Me, that's who."
"I'd help," Tom promised.
"Tom, I.."
The kitty came over and sat in my lap.
Save me. Adopt me. Love me.
The worker came back in with a clipboard of papers.
"So? Have we decided?"
Tom stared at me.
I HATE when he does this. Makes me make the decisions.
"I," I started. "I..I mean.."
"Mew," the kitty said.
"He is litterbox trained," Tom said.
"And he's a good cat," the worker added. She could tell that Tom needed her help. I swear I saw her wink at him at one point.
Mwhaha. We will convince your wife to take this cat.
"I mean..what if he scratches Natalie? Or bites her? Or suffocates her?" I said.
"Amber. I highly doubt the cat is going to suffocate Natalie," Tom said with a roll of the eyes. He gave the worker a Look.
Sorry. My wife is one of those paranoid mothers.
"The cat would only be $40. All his shots are updated except his rabies shot. You get a free visit to a vet of your choice so it can look the cat over to make sure everything is okay," the worker said.
"We have nothing to take the cat home in," I said.
"We give you a box to take him home in," the worker said triumphantly.
"We have no litter box or food."
"We give you a free bag of food."
"And we can go to Wal-Mart and get a litter box," Tom piped in.
Geez.
They both stared at me.
Even Natalie stared at me.
Even the cat stared at me.
"Oh...I mean...I guess," I said weakly as the cat began to purr.
Ten minutes later we were signing adoption papers.
How did that happen??!!
So..
Without further ado, meet Max:
It took us awhile to come up with a name.
Tom was all, "Let's name him Rommel!"
Apparently he was a general in World War 2.
"Um, no," I said. "How about Beans?"
Tom made a face. "As in Beans Beans the magical fruit? Next," Tom said.
"Henry," I suggested. "For Henry VIII."
"No," Tom replied. "Churchill. Panzer."
"Panzer?"
"As in a Panzer Tank!" Tom said.
"No."
"P-38. B-17," Tom shot off.
"Sunny," I said.
"Sunny? No way."
"Well you wanted to name him B-17!"
"That was a joke. He can be called Rambo."
"Tom honestly. Rambo?"
It went on and on.
Finally, I piped up with, "He sort of looks like a Max."
Tom went, "You know, that name popped in my head too. He does look like a Max."
So Max it is.
Max is currently sleeping in his bed thing that we bought him.
Tommy thinks he's cool.
Natalie thinks he's hilarious. Look Ma! The bushy thing moves!
So I guess I made the right decision...
Monday, January 14, 2008
Life's Adventure
In life we all have adventures....some are fun....some are not...some change us....for a bit....some change us permanently. Before this adventure I was a Christian...or should I say, I was a church goer. ...Somewhere along the way I had missed the spiritual boat...but after this I would find my way back.
July 12th was a glorious day, and I was packing for my newest adventure. I was going white water rafting on the Deschutes River in Oregon. It was just going to be a little overnighter, yet the apprehension I felt was almost nauseating. The songs of the musical, "The Man of La Mancha" would not leave my head as I continued to fill my L.L. Bean backpack with a change of clothes, some sweats, and other essentials I felt I would need. My camera and journal topped the pack and I walked out of my apartment. I was ready for anything....or was I? Had I forgotten anything? Whoops - I threw my gideon bible in. You never know. No one here in Alabama wanted me to do this - but I felt led to go.
The trip was about four hours and when we arrived at the river bank, I was amused at myself for the earlier queasiness. This river looked harmless enough. I had rafter the Ocoee in North Carolina as a teenager, and it was definitely worse than this. We readied ourselves for the first leg of the adventure. We would load up and raft about 10 miles, pull out and camp for the night. The first leg offered nothing to write home about. The group in the raft had a great deal of fun bonding and challenging the other rafts we met as we drifted lazily down the river. Evening came quickly and soon it was time to set up a campsite before the best ones were taken.
The place we chose had a heady smell of sage. I sdtood and felt the remnants of the sun burns its image on my chapped face and inhaled the fragrances of the canyon. We set up our tents and began supper preparation. There would be no campfire tonight...just a battered Coleman stove and lantern. This was a high-risk fire area. The supper detail fixed burritos, avocado dip, and tostidoes for our meal. We all were ravenouse and ate the food as if this was to be our last supper, washed the dishes and packed them away for the next day. We then gathered around the stove and pulled our our guitars and began to sing. We sang everything from the Eagles to old scout songs and finally our guide told us that if we were going to get an early start we needed to call it a night. I was glad. The calluses on my fingers from playing the songs were beginning to throb. We all went to our assigned tents.
I lay down and felt the old feelings of claustrophobia close in as we lay there safe within the confines of the tent. I had to get out! It was a beautiful night...I would sleep under the stars. I quickly and quietly withdrew into the aromatic outdoors. I lay there under the stars and smelled the safe and sang softly to myself. Diane and Cecilia joined me shortly. The star show was so awesome and I felt the weight of tiredness tugging at my eyes. I fell into a sound sleep...but sleep would not last long. We were pelted into awakeness by the feel of razor sharp rain drops. A storm had moved into the canoyon...we all headed for the supply van. The three of us slept in the van the remainder of the night...and when the morning lifht finally reared her head...I felt like hell!
The pinks and grays of dawn came peeping. July the 13th was going to be another beautiful day. You could see no traces of the night storm. "Look out Deschutes, Here I come!" After a quiet breakfast of hot tea and granola, we closed out camp and headed for the raftsd. Our bright yellow raft sat on the shoreline laughing at us to come and play again. We named her the Yellow Submaring. Looking back now I can see where that would be a poor choice of words. The crew was an ageless one. All of us had long seen 30 something. Steve, Diane, Ruth, Cecelia, Clark(the guide), Tia Maria, and I made up this motley crew. The start was fun. We were all natural competitors so we left ahead of the rest. We straddled the yellow raft and away we went. Our first little class two rapid was met with Tia Maria being tossed into the drink. the guide scooped her up effortlessly, and she was back in the boat safe and sound before any of us even knew she was gone. The Box-Cars was a class three rapid and the challenge was loads of fun. The morning part of the trip had been dlightful. We stopped for a lunch of fruit and more granola and continued on. On to the quest....our goal. Our mottoes had become, " all for One and One for All. Let's Take it Ove the Edge, Let's Take it to the Limit!" So at Oak Springs, a class five waterfall, over the edge we went....but something was wrong. The wind was up and we lost control of our tiny craft. We were catapulted from the raft, and my experience into the bowels of hell began.
The last thing I remember was seeing Steve fly through the air and then everything went black for me. I struggled to the surface only to find myself trapped under the raft as it was being sucked down into a maelstrom. Something was holding me down!!!!! I emerged in the air pocked of the raft to find a rope around my throat choking the life out of me. I fought with it and finally broke free before I was sucked down into the eddy again. My life as I knew it was passing before my eyes and I felt myself...crying...I didn't know if I was really crying or just imagining it. I was somewhere between here and unconsciousness. I was filled with sadness at never having the chance to see Kat grown. I was terrified and gagging when suddenly I felt a rock under my feet. I pushed hard against it, propelled myself against the raft, broke the suction of the eddy, and left my would-be grave. It was as if a giant hand reached in and plucked me out. I was literally thrown through the air. The people who watched helplessly on the bank said that if it hadn't been so frightening it would have been amusing. I looked like a bronco buster that had just been thrown off a wild horse. I landed in the middle of the raging Deschutes on a slick rock. I dug my fingers in and held on for dear life. This was my Solid Rock. I tasted blood but did not know where it was coming from. My head hurt, and the vision in my left eye was blurred. A kayaker floated out to me and told me to let go and float down to him. I screamed to myself, "WAS HE CRAZY!!" I was not leting go of nothing! did he not know where I had just come from? Did he not know that I had been brutally beaten by rocks like the ones that were between my haven and his boat? He realized that I was in shock...so he kep talking to me gently. His warm, friendly, velvety voice finally convinced me to let go and he caught me. Putting the wet remnant of a person in the kayak he took me to the shore where the rest of the frightened group waited. I turned to thank him but he was gone. I chuckled and knew God was with me. I was so dizzy, confused, and nauseated. I couldn't stand andas soon as I was helped from the boat....passed out. Patty came over and revived me, check me out and went into action. I was pretty banged up, had a possible concussion, and was in shock. I had to be gotten out of the canyon....and fast. the guides radioed for a rescue unit and waited with me. Everyone wrapped their arms around me to ward off shock....I remember nothing except that I was colder than I had ever been in my life...The helicopter arrived and I was air lifted to the Dalles, treated for a concussion, cuts, bruises, and shock. The rest of the team finished the course and picked me up at the emergency room. We headed back to Walla Walla. They had been instructed not to let me see a mirror....just yet. It was a good thing When I finally did see a mirror I would terrify myself and little children. Quasi Moto and the Gargoyles of Notre Dame had nothing on me.
I bathed in a warm tub, wearily put on my pajamas, and settled down for sleep. The sedative I had been given earlier kicked in and I floated off to sleep....but only briefly....Minutes after I closed my eyes....the water came back and I was drowning again. I awoke with a loud scream.....over and over I tried to sleep....over and over....I was drowning. Finally Father Jim put is rocking chair next to my bed....and diligently prayed me through the night. I slept peacefully....knowing that God had put me here for a reason....a lesson....and I became determined to listen to what God had to say to me.....(to be continued)
July 12th was a glorious day, and I was packing for my newest adventure. I was going white water rafting on the Deschutes River in Oregon. It was just going to be a little overnighter, yet the apprehension I felt was almost nauseating. The songs of the musical, "The Man of La Mancha" would not leave my head as I continued to fill my L.L. Bean backpack with a change of clothes, some sweats, and other essentials I felt I would need. My camera and journal topped the pack and I walked out of my apartment. I was ready for anything....or was I? Had I forgotten anything? Whoops - I threw my gideon bible in. You never know. No one here in Alabama wanted me to do this - but I felt led to go.
The trip was about four hours and when we arrived at the river bank, I was amused at myself for the earlier queasiness. This river looked harmless enough. I had rafter the Ocoee in North Carolina as a teenager, and it was definitely worse than this. We readied ourselves for the first leg of the adventure. We would load up and raft about 10 miles, pull out and camp for the night. The first leg offered nothing to write home about. The group in the raft had a great deal of fun bonding and challenging the other rafts we met as we drifted lazily down the river. Evening came quickly and soon it was time to set up a campsite before the best ones were taken.
The place we chose had a heady smell of sage. I sdtood and felt the remnants of the sun burns its image on my chapped face and inhaled the fragrances of the canyon. We set up our tents and began supper preparation. There would be no campfire tonight...just a battered Coleman stove and lantern. This was a high-risk fire area. The supper detail fixed burritos, avocado dip, and tostidoes for our meal. We all were ravenouse and ate the food as if this was to be our last supper, washed the dishes and packed them away for the next day. We then gathered around the stove and pulled our our guitars and began to sing. We sang everything from the Eagles to old scout songs and finally our guide told us that if we were going to get an early start we needed to call it a night. I was glad. The calluses on my fingers from playing the songs were beginning to throb. We all went to our assigned tents.
I lay down and felt the old feelings of claustrophobia close in as we lay there safe within the confines of the tent. I had to get out! It was a beautiful night...I would sleep under the stars. I quickly and quietly withdrew into the aromatic outdoors. I lay there under the stars and smelled the safe and sang softly to myself. Diane and Cecilia joined me shortly. The star show was so awesome and I felt the weight of tiredness tugging at my eyes. I fell into a sound sleep...but sleep would not last long. We were pelted into awakeness by the feel of razor sharp rain drops. A storm had moved into the canoyon...we all headed for the supply van. The three of us slept in the van the remainder of the night...and when the morning lifht finally reared her head...I felt like hell!
The pinks and grays of dawn came peeping. July the 13th was going to be another beautiful day. You could see no traces of the night storm. "Look out Deschutes, Here I come!" After a quiet breakfast of hot tea and granola, we closed out camp and headed for the raftsd. Our bright yellow raft sat on the shoreline laughing at us to come and play again. We named her the Yellow Submaring. Looking back now I can see where that would be a poor choice of words. The crew was an ageless one. All of us had long seen 30 something. Steve, Diane, Ruth, Cecelia, Clark(the guide), Tia Maria, and I made up this motley crew. The start was fun. We were all natural competitors so we left ahead of the rest. We straddled the yellow raft and away we went. Our first little class two rapid was met with Tia Maria being tossed into the drink. the guide scooped her up effortlessly, and she was back in the boat safe and sound before any of us even knew she was gone. The Box-Cars was a class three rapid and the challenge was loads of fun. The morning part of the trip had been dlightful. We stopped for a lunch of fruit and more granola and continued on. On to the quest....our goal. Our mottoes had become, " all for One and One for All. Let's Take it Ove the Edge, Let's Take it to the Limit!" So at Oak Springs, a class five waterfall, over the edge we went....but something was wrong. The wind was up and we lost control of our tiny craft. We were catapulted from the raft, and my experience into the bowels of hell began.
The last thing I remember was seeing Steve fly through the air and then everything went black for me. I struggled to the surface only to find myself trapped under the raft as it was being sucked down into a maelstrom. Something was holding me down!!!!! I emerged in the air pocked of the raft to find a rope around my throat choking the life out of me. I fought with it and finally broke free before I was sucked down into the eddy again. My life as I knew it was passing before my eyes and I felt myself...crying...I didn't know if I was really crying or just imagining it. I was somewhere between here and unconsciousness. I was filled with sadness at never having the chance to see Kat grown. I was terrified and gagging when suddenly I felt a rock under my feet. I pushed hard against it, propelled myself against the raft, broke the suction of the eddy, and left my would-be grave. It was as if a giant hand reached in and plucked me out. I was literally thrown through the air. The people who watched helplessly on the bank said that if it hadn't been so frightening it would have been amusing. I looked like a bronco buster that had just been thrown off a wild horse. I landed in the middle of the raging Deschutes on a slick rock. I dug my fingers in and held on for dear life. This was my Solid Rock. I tasted blood but did not know where it was coming from. My head hurt, and the vision in my left eye was blurred. A kayaker floated out to me and told me to let go and float down to him. I screamed to myself, "WAS HE CRAZY!!" I was not leting go of nothing! did he not know where I had just come from? Did he not know that I had been brutally beaten by rocks like the ones that were between my haven and his boat? He realized that I was in shock...so he kep talking to me gently. His warm, friendly, velvety voice finally convinced me to let go and he caught me. Putting the wet remnant of a person in the kayak he took me to the shore where the rest of the frightened group waited. I turned to thank him but he was gone. I chuckled and knew God was with me. I was so dizzy, confused, and nauseated. I couldn't stand andas soon as I was helped from the boat....passed out. Patty came over and revived me, check me out and went into action. I was pretty banged up, had a possible concussion, and was in shock. I had to be gotten out of the canyon....and fast. the guides radioed for a rescue unit and waited with me. Everyone wrapped their arms around me to ward off shock....I remember nothing except that I was colder than I had ever been in my life...The helicopter arrived and I was air lifted to the Dalles, treated for a concussion, cuts, bruises, and shock. The rest of the team finished the course and picked me up at the emergency room. We headed back to Walla Walla. They had been instructed not to let me see a mirror....just yet. It was a good thing When I finally did see a mirror I would terrify myself and little children. Quasi Moto and the Gargoyles of Notre Dame had nothing on me.
I bathed in a warm tub, wearily put on my pajamas, and settled down for sleep. The sedative I had been given earlier kicked in and I floated off to sleep....but only briefly....Minutes after I closed my eyes....the water came back and I was drowning again. I awoke with a loud scream.....over and over I tried to sleep....over and over....I was drowning. Finally Father Jim put is rocking chair next to my bed....and diligently prayed me through the night. I slept peacefully....knowing that God had put me here for a reason....a lesson....and I became determined to listen to what God had to say to me.....(to be continued)
Saturday, January 12, 2008
My Dear Letters
Was running around most of the day so this entry is late.
So I'm doing Dear letters.
----------------
Dear Network Execs,
Could you please please PLEASE strike a deal with the writers? I miss my shows. Stop being greedy little bastards and give them what they want. There would be no shows without the writers. So what if it means you'll have to go with less money. Deal with it.
Signed,
A-please-bring-my-shows-back,
Amber
---------
Dear lady who was smoking in the car and then threw the cigarette out the window and THEN didn't bother to use your turn signal,
People like you make me SICK. First of all, smoking in your car is disgusting. The smell gets all over the place. Second, I'm sorry, but Wyoming is not your personal trash can. How dare you just throw your cigarette butt out the window like that? And next time you want to rapidly turn when you're in front of me, use your turn signal.
Signed,
A-I-hate-drivers-like-you,
Amber
---------
Dear Target Shoppers,
Guess what? I found a bunch of toys for 75% off. And clothes. So run to your nearest Target and find a deal!
Signed,
A-Target-rocks,
Amber
-------
Dear book agents,
Please, could you take a chance on me? I really need an agent. I want to get a book published. I know I don't have a college degree but I'm working on it. I swear I'm literate. My grammar might be frightening at times but I do know a lot. I'm also very polite. I wouldn't scream at you if you didn't get me a lot of money. I don't care about that. I just want my work out there. That's all.
Signed,
A-would-you-take-a-chance-on-me?
Amber
--------
Dear chocolate,
Could you please taste like sawdust for awhile? That way I won't want to eat you and I could lose these last 5 pounds. While we're at it, can McDonalds taste like sawdust too? That would help a lot.
Signed,
A-have-no-willpower,
Amber
------
Dear Henry VIII,
You should be ashamed. You treated your wives like crap. Your poor first wife, Katherine, you cast aside just because she couldn't give you an heir and you wanted to stick your cadoodle in Anne Boleyn. Shame on you. Then you sent her off into a dank and dirty castle even though you knew she was sick. You let her die there and she was nothing but loving towards you.
Then came Anne Boleyn. Sure she had a quick tongue. But you deserved it. Women were treated horribly back then, what do you expect? If all you were around for was breeding and to give your family more social status, you'd be a bit pissed off too. Beheading her was wrong. She did not sleep with her brother. That's disgusting. She gave you Elizabeth, who went on to be a wonderful Queen.
After that you married Jane Seymour. You married her ten days after Anne was beheaded. Have you no shame? Jane Seymour popped out a boy for you. There, you happy? But then Jane died and you were sad. Maybe it was Karma for treating Katherine like crap and beheading Anne.
Then you decided, hey, I'm lonely, I need another wife. So after seeing a photo of Anne of Cleves you thought, dude, she's hot, I'll marry her. But when you SAW her in the flesh you were repulsed. Excuse me? She repulsed YOU? At this time you were horribly fat and had a disgusting sore on your leg that stank. At least you didn't behead her.
Jesus man, then you decided you wanted Catherine Howard. She was what, fifteen? That's yucky. You were in your forties at this time. What would a fifteen-year-old want with a fat, stinking old man? But you thought you were in love and married her. Then you realized she was cheating on you and got your panties in a bunch. Oh wait, I don't think panties were around then. Your HOSE got up in a bunch. You beheaded her too.
Finally came Catherine Parr. Your final wife. Who you probably would have beheaded had you not finally croaked.
Ahh Henry VIII. You interest me but man, you were a cranky old dude.
Signed,
A-Henry VIII-fanatic,
Amber
-------------
Dear Tom,
Yes I know I bought Gymboree even though I said I wouldn't until GBR. But you have to see, I bought another piece for the outfit. A cardigan. It goes with the outfit. You have to understand that girl outfits are different from boys. There are other pieces that go with our outfits. It was only $12.
Plus, I see you spent $18 at Papa Johns last night. How can one man spend $18? We spend $18 there as a family. Did you eat an entire pizza yourself?
Signed,
An-addicted-to-Gymboree,
Amber
-------
Dear Wyoming Winds,
Please piss off for awhile. Go bug Tennessee or something.
Signed,
A-sick-of-having-windblown-hair,
Amber
---------
Dear Military Channel,
I hate you. You're boring. I don't care to spend an hour watching about the inner workings of a tank. I mean who cares? So long as it moves when you turn it on, shouldn't that be enough?
Signed,
A-you-can-go-away,
Amber
So I'm doing Dear letters.
----------------
Dear Network Execs,
Could you please please PLEASE strike a deal with the writers? I miss my shows. Stop being greedy little bastards and give them what they want. There would be no shows without the writers. So what if it means you'll have to go with less money. Deal with it.
Signed,
A-please-bring-my-shows-back,
Amber
---------
Dear lady who was smoking in the car and then threw the cigarette out the window and THEN didn't bother to use your turn signal,
People like you make me SICK. First of all, smoking in your car is disgusting. The smell gets all over the place. Second, I'm sorry, but Wyoming is not your personal trash can. How dare you just throw your cigarette butt out the window like that? And next time you want to rapidly turn when you're in front of me, use your turn signal.
Signed,
A-I-hate-drivers-like-you,
Amber
---------
Dear Target Shoppers,
Guess what? I found a bunch of toys for 75% off. And clothes. So run to your nearest Target and find a deal!
Signed,
A-Target-rocks,
Amber
-------
Dear book agents,
Please, could you take a chance on me? I really need an agent. I want to get a book published. I know I don't have a college degree but I'm working on it. I swear I'm literate. My grammar might be frightening at times but I do know a lot. I'm also very polite. I wouldn't scream at you if you didn't get me a lot of money. I don't care about that. I just want my work out there. That's all.
Signed,
A-would-you-take-a-chance-on-me?
Amber
--------
Dear chocolate,
Could you please taste like sawdust for awhile? That way I won't want to eat you and I could lose these last 5 pounds. While we're at it, can McDonalds taste like sawdust too? That would help a lot.
Signed,
A-have-no-willpower,
Amber
------
Dear Henry VIII,
You should be ashamed. You treated your wives like crap. Your poor first wife, Katherine, you cast aside just because she couldn't give you an heir and you wanted to stick your cadoodle in Anne Boleyn. Shame on you. Then you sent her off into a dank and dirty castle even though you knew she was sick. You let her die there and she was nothing but loving towards you.
Then came Anne Boleyn. Sure she had a quick tongue. But you deserved it. Women were treated horribly back then, what do you expect? If all you were around for was breeding and to give your family more social status, you'd be a bit pissed off too. Beheading her was wrong. She did not sleep with her brother. That's disgusting. She gave you Elizabeth, who went on to be a wonderful Queen.
After that you married Jane Seymour. You married her ten days after Anne was beheaded. Have you no shame? Jane Seymour popped out a boy for you. There, you happy? But then Jane died and you were sad. Maybe it was Karma for treating Katherine like crap and beheading Anne.
Then you decided, hey, I'm lonely, I need another wife. So after seeing a photo of Anne of Cleves you thought, dude, she's hot, I'll marry her. But when you SAW her in the flesh you were repulsed. Excuse me? She repulsed YOU? At this time you were horribly fat and had a disgusting sore on your leg that stank. At least you didn't behead her.
Jesus man, then you decided you wanted Catherine Howard. She was what, fifteen? That's yucky. You were in your forties at this time. What would a fifteen-year-old want with a fat, stinking old man? But you thought you were in love and married her. Then you realized she was cheating on you and got your panties in a bunch. Oh wait, I don't think panties were around then. Your HOSE got up in a bunch. You beheaded her too.
Finally came Catherine Parr. Your final wife. Who you probably would have beheaded had you not finally croaked.
Ahh Henry VIII. You interest me but man, you were a cranky old dude.
Signed,
A-Henry VIII-fanatic,
Amber
-------------
Dear Tom,
Yes I know I bought Gymboree even though I said I wouldn't until GBR. But you have to see, I bought another piece for the outfit. A cardigan. It goes with the outfit. You have to understand that girl outfits are different from boys. There are other pieces that go with our outfits. It was only $12.
Plus, I see you spent $18 at Papa Johns last night. How can one man spend $18? We spend $18 there as a family. Did you eat an entire pizza yourself?
Signed,
An-addicted-to-Gymboree,
Amber
-------
Dear Wyoming Winds,
Please piss off for awhile. Go bug Tennessee or something.
Signed,
A-sick-of-having-windblown-hair,
Amber
---------
Dear Military Channel,
I hate you. You're boring. I don't care to spend an hour watching about the inner workings of a tank. I mean who cares? So long as it moves when you turn it on, shouldn't that be enough?
Signed,
A-you-can-go-away,
Amber
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
The Love Affair with Mints
I forgot to mention that yesterday, Tom seemed to have a love affair with the mints that they give you with the check at Olive Garden. He seemed to still be hyped up on the two energy drinks he had consumed because when he popped one in his mouth he went,
"MMMMM. These are SO good. You MUST have one. They're scrumptious!"
You have to understand that my husband doesn't use words like scrumptious. I do. But not him. He usually uses the words "good" or "very good." And that's pretty much it. Oh and then he emits a burp. Because he says the louder the burp, the better the meal was. That was a startling surprise when we were first married. I had made Hamburger Helper, because it was one of the few things I could make, and suddenly he let out this humongous burp that made me jump.
"That was rude," I said, a bit testy. I never recalled him doing such disgusting things when we were dating after all. (Oh, if only I knew what disgusting things were to come. Such as ball scratching, butt scratching, SBDFs (silent-but-deadly-farts), poops that practically brought down the house...)
"That burp is letting you that dinner was good. You should be proud," Tom explained to me.
Proud of a burp?
Is he insane?
He still does it to this day. His loudest burps seem to be when I make pork chops, spaghetti or lasagna.
He's a gentleman and waits until we're in the car to burp when we're at a restaurant. Apparently he can seem like he's a polite man in public but the minute we're behind closed doors, the gas emits from him.
Lucky me.
But back to the mints.
He practically shoved one down my throat. He unwrapped one for me and pointed it in the direction of my mouth.
"Scrumptious I tell you!" he continued.
He's been around me too long. I use phrases like that all the time. Sometimes when I'm feeling extra feisty I throw in "scrum-diddly-umptious!" a la Willy Wonka. (Cheesecakes are scrum-diddly-umptious. Chocolate is scrum-diddly-umptious. McDonalds is scrum-diddly-umptious.)
"I'll take one if only to shut you up," I said and took the piece of mint chocolate from his hands.
I popped it in my mouth. I needed one anyhow since I had consumed all that garlic.
"Are you going to eat this one?" Tom asked, pointing to the last mint. (They're Andes mints, by the way. If you want to experience the excitement Tom was.)
"No, go ahead," I said.
"Yay," Tom said, unwrapping it.
(Yay?? He never uses the word yay.)
When the waitress came to collect the check Tom went, "Your mints are delicious."
The waitress looked a little startled. She's probably used to people going on about how delicious the meal was. Not the mints. She composed herself and asked if Tom wanted more.
Tom's eyes lit up. "I'd take more," he said excitedly.
So she grabbed him a few more and Tom thanked her profusely. You'd think that I had just given him permission to watch a disgusting porn or something.
On the way out Tom snacked on the mints.
"So good. So good," he kept saying.
Geez.
No more energy drinks for Tom.
I surprised him and went out and bought him a package of Andes mints. When he woke up he saw the package on the couch.
"Oh good. Mints," he said, much calmer than he was before.
"You seemed to have a love affair with them this morning," I pointed out.
"I did? Really? I was half asleep, I don't even remember," Tom said.
Weirdo.
"MMMMM. These are SO good. You MUST have one. They're scrumptious!"
You have to understand that my husband doesn't use words like scrumptious. I do. But not him. He usually uses the words "good" or "very good." And that's pretty much it. Oh and then he emits a burp. Because he says the louder the burp, the better the meal was. That was a startling surprise when we were first married. I had made Hamburger Helper, because it was one of the few things I could make, and suddenly he let out this humongous burp that made me jump.
"That was rude," I said, a bit testy. I never recalled him doing such disgusting things when we were dating after all. (Oh, if only I knew what disgusting things were to come. Such as ball scratching, butt scratching, SBDFs (silent-but-deadly-farts), poops that practically brought down the house...)
"That burp is letting you that dinner was good. You should be proud," Tom explained to me.
Proud of a burp?
Is he insane?
He still does it to this day. His loudest burps seem to be when I make pork chops, spaghetti or lasagna.
He's a gentleman and waits until we're in the car to burp when we're at a restaurant. Apparently he can seem like he's a polite man in public but the minute we're behind closed doors, the gas emits from him.
Lucky me.
But back to the mints.
He practically shoved one down my throat. He unwrapped one for me and pointed it in the direction of my mouth.
"Scrumptious I tell you!" he continued.
He's been around me too long. I use phrases like that all the time. Sometimes when I'm feeling extra feisty I throw in "scrum-diddly-umptious!" a la Willy Wonka. (Cheesecakes are scrum-diddly-umptious. Chocolate is scrum-diddly-umptious. McDonalds is scrum-diddly-umptious.)
"I'll take one if only to shut you up," I said and took the piece of mint chocolate from his hands.
I popped it in my mouth. I needed one anyhow since I had consumed all that garlic.
"Are you going to eat this one?" Tom asked, pointing to the last mint. (They're Andes mints, by the way. If you want to experience the excitement Tom was.)
"No, go ahead," I said.
"Yay," Tom said, unwrapping it.
(Yay?? He never uses the word yay.)
When the waitress came to collect the check Tom went, "Your mints are delicious."
The waitress looked a little startled. She's probably used to people going on about how delicious the meal was. Not the mints. She composed herself and asked if Tom wanted more.
Tom's eyes lit up. "I'd take more," he said excitedly.
So she grabbed him a few more and Tom thanked her profusely. You'd think that I had just given him permission to watch a disgusting porn or something.
On the way out Tom snacked on the mints.
"So good. So good," he kept saying.
Geez.
No more energy drinks for Tom.
I surprised him and went out and bought him a package of Andes mints. When he woke up he saw the package on the couch.
"Oh good. Mints," he said, much calmer than he was before.
"You seemed to have a love affair with them this morning," I pointed out.
"I did? Really? I was half asleep, I don't even remember," Tom said.
Weirdo.
Child Psychologist
Finally.
Tom has been hogging the computer all day.
Usually he sleeps most during the day but he slept a lot during the night.
So he was up.
We had to go to the child psychologist to fill out some paperwork today. It wasn't a real session, just info about Tommy and insurance.
When we walked in there was music playing in the background. It smelled like coffee. There was a fluffy white couch in the waiting room so we took a seat and waited.
A few minutes later a woman who looked to be in her sixties walked out with a male patient who looked around 25 or so. I admit I glanced at him and wondered what his deal was. It must be interesting being a psychologist and listening to peoples problems. I'm not sure if I'd ever be comfortable in therapy. Plus, I have this diary, this is all the therapy I need.
She introduced herself and then handed us a pile of paperwork to fill out. Then she asked Tommy if he wanted to play in the playroom while she asked us some questions.
"Okay," Tommy said, a little wary. He glanced up at me to make sure it was okay.
"You can go play," I assured him.
So he walked in the playroom which was filled with toys. There was a chair in the corner, probably where the psychologist sits and observes.
Then the psychologist brought us back into another room that smelled like vanilla. There was a chair in the corner for her to sit in and a long couch and another chair in the corner.
I wonder if people actually lay down and talk like in the movies?
I wouldn't feel comfortable laying down and talking to a stranger. I'd probably remaining sitting.
She asked us some questions about Tommy: what he was doing at school and what he was like at home.
I mentioned that he had ADHD and sensory processing disorder.
I mentioned that he was on medication for his ADHD.
"And how do you feel about Tommy having therapy?" the psychologist asked us.
I told her that I didn't mind. That if it helped, then I was all for it.
"And even if it doesn't help, it doesn't matter," I added with a shrug. Then I was worried that she would be insulted. That she thought I was saying that she was crap or something.
Luckily she didn't. She just smiled and nodded. Then she looked at Tom. "What about you?"
Tom shrugged and waved a toy in front of Natalie, who was babbling quietly in the carseat. "To be perfectly honest, I think therapy is a joke."
I nearly choked and I didn't even have a thing in my mouth. My throat suddenly closed up and I looked at Tom in horror.
Nervous laughter filtered from my lips. "Oh Tom," I said and gave the psychologist a look that clearly said, "Men."
"Oh it's okay," the psychologist said gently. She behaved as though she heard it all the time. "May I ask why you think that?"
"I saw a psychologist when I was 8 and it didn't do a thing for me," Tom explained. "I just think people know what's wrong with them but that they need someone to tell them. Personally I'd rather save my money and have a friend tell me."
More nervous laughter poured out of me. I tried to catch Tom's eye but he refused to look over.
Thankfully the psychologist didn't look bothered. "Well, if you ever have any questions, please let me know."
We have an appointment on Saturday at 8. This will be Tommy's first real session.
As we walked out I said to Tom, "I can't believe you told her that you think therapy is a joke!"
"What? I was just being honest," Tom answered. "I do think it's a joke."
I suppose I should have known he thought that. When we were first married and had all sorts of problems, I suggested a marriage counselor.
"I'm not going to sit and tell some stranger my problems," Tom argued.
I hope this helps Tommy.
Tom has been hogging the computer all day.
Usually he sleeps most during the day but he slept a lot during the night.
So he was up.
We had to go to the child psychologist to fill out some paperwork today. It wasn't a real session, just info about Tommy and insurance.
When we walked in there was music playing in the background. It smelled like coffee. There was a fluffy white couch in the waiting room so we took a seat and waited.
A few minutes later a woman who looked to be in her sixties walked out with a male patient who looked around 25 or so. I admit I glanced at him and wondered what his deal was. It must be interesting being a psychologist and listening to peoples problems. I'm not sure if I'd ever be comfortable in therapy. Plus, I have this diary, this is all the therapy I need.
She introduced herself and then handed us a pile of paperwork to fill out. Then she asked Tommy if he wanted to play in the playroom while she asked us some questions.
"Okay," Tommy said, a little wary. He glanced up at me to make sure it was okay.
"You can go play," I assured him.
So he walked in the playroom which was filled with toys. There was a chair in the corner, probably where the psychologist sits and observes.
Then the psychologist brought us back into another room that smelled like vanilla. There was a chair in the corner for her to sit in and a long couch and another chair in the corner.
I wonder if people actually lay down and talk like in the movies?
I wouldn't feel comfortable laying down and talking to a stranger. I'd probably remaining sitting.
She asked us some questions about Tommy: what he was doing at school and what he was like at home.
I mentioned that he had ADHD and sensory processing disorder.
I mentioned that he was on medication for his ADHD.
"And how do you feel about Tommy having therapy?" the psychologist asked us.
I told her that I didn't mind. That if it helped, then I was all for it.
"And even if it doesn't help, it doesn't matter," I added with a shrug. Then I was worried that she would be insulted. That she thought I was saying that she was crap or something.
Luckily she didn't. She just smiled and nodded. Then she looked at Tom. "What about you?"
Tom shrugged and waved a toy in front of Natalie, who was babbling quietly in the carseat. "To be perfectly honest, I think therapy is a joke."
I nearly choked and I didn't even have a thing in my mouth. My throat suddenly closed up and I looked at Tom in horror.
Nervous laughter filtered from my lips. "Oh Tom," I said and gave the psychologist a look that clearly said, "Men."
"Oh it's okay," the psychologist said gently. She behaved as though she heard it all the time. "May I ask why you think that?"
"I saw a psychologist when I was 8 and it didn't do a thing for me," Tom explained. "I just think people know what's wrong with them but that they need someone to tell them. Personally I'd rather save my money and have a friend tell me."
More nervous laughter poured out of me. I tried to catch Tom's eye but he refused to look over.
Thankfully the psychologist didn't look bothered. "Well, if you ever have any questions, please let me know."
We have an appointment on Saturday at 8. This will be Tommy's first real session.
As we walked out I said to Tom, "I can't believe you told her that you think therapy is a joke!"
"What? I was just being honest," Tom answered. "I do think it's a joke."
I suppose I should have known he thought that. When we were first married and had all sorts of problems, I suggested a marriage counselor.
"I'm not going to sit and tell some stranger my problems," Tom argued.
I hope this helps Tommy.
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