My mother in law didn't come to our wedding. On purpose.
She's a little crazy. She has a lot of cats. Lives alone in a five bedroom house. A house that is so filled with stuff- she needs extra storage sheds. Her crazy is not certifiable though. It's just a little crazy. Not enough to be called the crazy cat lady. Not enough to get on hoarders.
The crazy bubbled up really big around the time of our wedding. But not enough crazy though. She didn't come to our wedding on purpose. It was a choice.
A month after we got married, we gathered for Thanksgiving. I brought wedding pictures for her to see. I brought the photos because I still loved her. My cup of Mr. Hall love runneth over onto all his family. Still does.
But here's the thing. It's ten years later and I still can't make eye contact with her. It is still so harsh to be in the same house with her. Unbearable Tension. So much unspoken. Even though I've seen here about once a month since the wedding, it's never been said out loud. She didn't come to our wedding on purpose. So when I see her, I usually get drunk. This is no good.
I don't think I've ever talked about how that hurt me. I was so busy forgiving her and trying to be the better woman, making sure the grand kids know her, that I forgot to let it hurt. So that's what I've been doing the last couple of weeks. And I've been praying to find forgiveness for her. It's working, this process.
I'm feeling so much better about the whole thing.
So here is my plan for my mother in law (and Thanksgiving).
My plan is to knock it off, stop acting like I have been. When I go there, to my mother in law's house, I'll put away my phone. I will stay sober and breathe. I will turn my attention to God and let the love flow through me. My plan is to be still, to be near this woman. To be available for her. In her own weird ways, she has tried to reach out to me. So now I'll be reachable if she needs me.
I know all of this is possible. I just have to let it happen, trust and let God work through me.
And so it shall be.
Happy Thanksgiving all :)
So, here's a story from work.
I was conversing with two people at work. I like these people. Then, they started busting out stories about being drunk and well, hold on, let me back up. One is a social worker who really, SHE IS ALL SORTS OF FUN!!! I MUST GO TO A BAR WITH THIS WOMAN AND HER FRIENDS!! We must go to bars and be drunk and white trashy. She has a jedi coffee mug. She's a social worker. And blonde. And like, 40, so she knows how to drink and have fun cause she doesn't have kids. Or deep thoughts. It would interrupt her fun she says.
Good times will be had.
She reported that a few years ago, at her best friend's bachelorette party- they used IVs to help prevent hangovers. The bachelorette is a nurse, so she swiped IV bags/line/pokey tools from work. "It was awesome," the social worker said, "because of those IVs, I was able to drink for two days straight!"
They hung the IVs from the pictures glued to the hotel walls. It was funny she said, cause they were still drunk while they were doing it. And one girl didn't get it in right and it was squirting all over-the social worker was laying in the next bed just laaauuuggghiiinnnnggg-cause it was so funny.
Remember now, I'm at work. This woman is my coworker. The best stories are told in the mental health lunch room. GAWD I LOVE MY JOB!
anywhoodle . . . .
Then, THEN another coworker jumps in the conversation. He is a veteran I work with. Former army. Purple heart recipient. He is my go to guy for almost everything I need when I need inside information about anything. He's 28. Married, young daughter. Use to be a medic in the army.
So, the guy says, in the army they have these survival packs with two IV kits in them. Him and his buddies would swipe a bag each time they were opened. He was 19 or so at the time. He would drink all night and then have to get up at 6 am for PT. PT is running. He would pop the IV in and gently squeeze the bag in while it rested on his stomach. Then, all juiced up, he would be ready to go.
AND I'M STANDING THERE LISTENING TO THIS. JAW ON THE FLOOR. I respect these people. I know they are drunks by history but GAWD DANG!!!
My jaw was to the floor people. Because not only do I NOT have drunk stories, I don't have this caliber of drunk story. I didn't have any alcohol until I was like, 25.
So my gauge for normal drunk stories, stuff that most everyone has been through, my gauge is a little of.
SO
YOU TELL ME-is this normal drunk behavior?
This Sgt. Hall, my husband. I am very proud of his service.
Thanks to all the vets out there.
Bear with me here, this is a tough post to write.
My husband and I believe that meals times should be calm, loving and food should be enjoyed. And no, the kids don't get a choice for dinner. Well, actually they get two choices: take it or leave it.
On Sunday I made fruit filled pancakes. It's simple to make. Just add frozen fruit to the pancake batter. Frozen fruit can be found in the freezer section of your local grocery store.
Then my daughter, the wee eight year old Pancake, says, "Can you make my pancakes without fruit in it?"
We discuss this. No I say, I don't make separate orders. She fusses and whines. Now, this irritates me. I expect a lot from my kids and manners. They are not allowed to pick through their food. They are not allowed to insult any cook by saying something stinks or it tastes nasty. I have taught them phrases like, "It's a bit strong for me, but thank you anyway."
Manners are important.
So is trying different type of foods. The world is a big wonderful place, so many tastes and textures to explore. This is what I am instilling here, in my kid's. I want them to be cultured and knowledgeable with foods. I want them to taste the wonder of it all.
Ok ok, jeez, yes, yes- I realize they are only 8 and 4, I can realize I can calm down a bit. I know that! I'm working on it!!
So, back to the fruit filled pancakes and the stinkeye my daughter was giving me about them.
Then I said, "I don't think you realize what you have here. You have me, making you pancakes." I then wave my arms open, calling her attention to our house. "We have everything we need here, we have a house, warm heat and now these pancakes. You woke up in a warm bed today. Some people wake up in homeless shelters, some wake up in a parks. There are a lot of people out there who don't have this."
She is looking at me at this point, mouth all small, close circle. I have her attention. Then I say this.
"I have a patient who goes to dunkin donuts every day at 12.30. Do you know why they do this?"
She doesn't.
"At 12.30, the morning donuts are thrown away in the Dumpster behind the building. My patient waits by the dumpster to scoop them out of the trash. They do this because they don't have food to eat. I also have a patient who brings empty milk jugs to the park every morning. Do you know why they do this?"
She doesn't.
"Because they can't pay their water bill. They fill the jugs with water to bring home, so they can have something to drink."
At this point she is dead silent. Her eyes are welling up. I realize that I am affecting her. I am not entirely comfortable with this. Yet there it is.
"So, when you whine about fruit in your pancakes, you need to think a little bit about all that we have here. And then, that fruit won't be such a big deal."
Then we all sit down for breakfast. It's calm. She doesn't pick the fruit out, she doesn't whine, she doesn't really eat though. And she doesn't say anything. After a while she asks to be excused and toddles off.
Then, we go to the park, she plays all happy. Around lunch time she says she's hungry again. And we eat. And love each other because we are family.
In a hurry here, no time to link. 
The guy up there, he's not dead, but he does a lot of walking himself. And horseback riding.
Whoa there! Zombies!
I like that it's based on a graphic novel. Graphic novels translate well to the screen, at least visually, because graphic novels are visual.
I like that it displays darkness. Darkness of death, darkness of sadness, of being left behind, without family and darkness of feeling alone. Like all parts of life, darkness holds wonder for me.
I like that the sheriff has a large amount of humanity. He has layers people. And I feel for him.
I also like that he's built like Mr. Hall-the slim yet might muscular underneath. Efficient and strong. 
I hope he survives because I give this show two bony dead zombie thumbs up!
What if I didn't call my doctor on Monday?
What if I didn't say, "I've had three negative pregnancy tests-and my period hasn't come-and it's day 35 of my cycle-can I stop the progesterone now?"
And what if hadn't taken the progesterone in the first place? Then I wouldn't be calling my doctor, asking to start my period.
And why am I taking this in the first place? Because I've been pregnant four times and carried two babies to term.
I wonder why my doctor asks me to do these things. To take these pills and use other supplements. And now I'm using yet even more pills to start my period. Yet, I was normal before this. Those two babies, that I carried to term, they are eight and four. Sleeping across the hall. My system works.
Why is my doctor asking me to mess with the system? I suppose I could ask.
Why didn't I ask in the beginning? I was just scared- so I did what she said to do.
What if I didn't feel scared? What if I tapped into a power I know has healed so much of me already? What if I prayed for God to help me? What if I trusted God with every last bit of all of this?
That would mean stopping. And letting go.
we are so bored this morning.
le bored.
le sigh.
we have plans this afternoon to go to the kids' museum. but that's not until 1 pm.
and these stupid saturday morning cartoons are driving me nutz.
i think we'll do some crafts. or read. or YAWN!
we're so bored!
Le sigh.
Hi. I'm Mrs. Hall and I'm a Christian. (Hi Mrs. Hall) Which means I've accept Jesus Christ as my God and trusted him to save me.
And I've been baptized to recognize this acceptance. This happened a few months ago. Like my wedding day I stood up and made a declaration. I knew exactly what I was doing and it was awesome!
Since that time-I've noticed I'm changing. This is an unexpected development. Because if there's one thing I know, it's who I am. I know my goods and my bads. I readily attest to both. But yet, I am changing.
I am caring less about my fashionista stuff. I am caring less about celebrity magazines. I am caring less about South Park. I am caring less about idle discourse. I am caring less about stuff that doesn't mean anything. I am not getting upset about the things that drive me nuts.
My Mom and are getting along like gangbusters. I never thought that was possible. We laugh and hug and enjoy each other. I realize I've been blocking her from being a loving force in my life because of bad blood. But after I got dipped, I stopped being angry and starting loving more. So here is my Mom. In my life. I realize God is at work here, I just need to get out of the way.
I care less about getting pregnant. I'm at peace with negative pregnancy tests. And knowing God has fully healed my miscarriage wounds-no more sadness, no more headaches or migraines. I am at peace because I turn to God.
I am vibrating less. My hyperkenitic ADD energy is at a much lower frequency. Which means this blog is a lot thinner then it use to be. The slightly naughty photo of Mr. Hall and I (that use to be the banner)-this is gone. It has been replaced by a purple flower. This blog doesn't have naughty stuff anymore. I just don't want to share that part of my marriage anymore.
There is less sharing overall because there is less to share. I mean, this blog is where I work through my feelings and share my inner thoughts. But my thoughts have been humming and not forming words. How can I blog that?
I'm a little afraid about this. I'm a little afraid of this change because I have worked hard to become who I am. But I find myself scared. But not really scared, just timid. I am not sure what will happen when all this really takes hold. I know that with each bible study class and church service, I am changing. I feel lifted and grounded all at the same time. It's quite a nice feeling actually. Feels more like me.
Welcome back to getting to know Mrs. Hall. Numbers 1-10 are here.
Number 11: I fear authority figures
Maybe it's because I've been pulled over 4 times. Each time for speeding, each time deserved. Each time a 100 dollar fine out of my poor student pocket. Each time I cried because it sucked.
Maybe it's because the fear of being fired has been drilled into me by my parents. Drilled into my brain because they always had jobs where they could be fired at a drop of a hat. To this day whenever I complain about work they say, "But, it's ok right, you're not going to be FIRED are you?"
But, I fear authority.
I try to stay anonymous and work hard. And when the clinic manager makes a visit I try to hide. But, she found me anyway. Finally gave me keys to my office-I've been here two years. This oversight of me not getting keys indicates how much I am not on their radar.
AWESOME!
:)
Last night Pancake and I were playing a Bible Bingo/Trivia Game. I found it at goodwill. It's helping me become more coherent in my bible readings. I am recognizing the names John the Bapist, Paul and Moses.
While we playing her Daddy made some broccoli as a side dish for dinner. "OOoooOOhhh!! I love broccoli!" Pancake says. And it's true, my daughter loves steamed broccoli. And both my kids love raisins, "It's nature's candy!!"
It's good times I say.
And then on Sundays, we send them to Sunday school. Their Sunday school is all about skits and games to help them learn bible lessons. The kids love Sunday school and describe it like this:
"We sing songs, we play games and there was cookies. It was awesome!"
The lessons are about values like kindess, charity, God loving you and whatnot. All based out of the bible. I don't know if they get the lessons, but they get the cookies. And feel loved by the staff. So that's good enough for now.
But here's the thing-Pancake and I play the bingo bible trivia game and she asks questions like, "Why did God turn Lot's wife into a pillar of salt?" And honestly, I don't know what to tell her. I'm still learning the basics.
AND HERE'S THE KICKER.
HERE'S THE KICKER.
My daughter and I play this game. Starting with the same level of knowledge. And we teach each other what we are learning. My daughter is teaching me some of her lessons from her Sunday school. And I teach her what I learn in bible study.
So were are all learning together.
It's uncharted terrority.
Very surreal.
Very weird.
And wonderful all the same.
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