Blogtastic November: A Month of Gratitude

I did this fun blog month in September from this great blog, and it was so fun to have ideas and read other people's reactions to the same prompt each day. I also happen to be in a blog funk of sorts. So, I decided to put a list together for myself, and invite anyone else who would like to join in giving thanks through the month of November.

I will call it
"Blogtastic November: A MONTH OF GRATITUDE."
Yep, that'll work. Enjoy!

From funlittlehouse.blogspot.com

When? Every day throughout November - except weekends and on Thanksgiving Day. Cause ain’t nobody tryin’ to do all that! (That last one I did didn't do weekends, and it was nice to have an off day, or a day to catch up if I felt like it.)

Each day, write one sentence or more (a novel, if you’re me), about the prompt for the day. There are no rules. Skip, add, you're the boss.

“A family member” is listed three times, because it was too much pressure for me to only list it once.

Pictures are good, but not mandatory. Nothing is mandatory. But pictures are good.

Good luck, and God bless!

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(Please give a shout-out to funlittlehouse.blogspot.com if you join the Blogtastic Month of Gratitude! Also, please visit my page and link your blog posts to mine in a comment, so I can see what you’re grateful for, too!)

November 1 – A family member. (If you want, mail a letter to that person today, just for the fun of it. Even if you live in the same house!)

November 4 – A person at work, present or past. (Oh, and SAHMs, you work with some little incredibles all day, sooo…).

November 5 – An experience you’ve had that made you appreciate being alive.

November 6 – A friend at church or a club you attend. (Pray for her today -- I say "her," but know that I mean her/him, I just don't like to do that --  and text or Facebook to let her know that you're grateful she's in your life, and you're praying for her to have a great day.)

November 7 – A song that, whenever you hear it, makes you grateful for something. What is the song, and what does it make you thankful for? (Play that song today. And dance around to it.)

November 8 – A family member. What is something that person does that makes your life better or easier?

November 11 – A freedom that you have that people in other parts of the world may not. Whatever it is, do it today, and give thanks to God that you can do it!

November 12 – The person that taught you to drive.

November 13 – Something that you see that makes you grateful for eye sight.

November 14 – A stranger. We have encounters with strangers every day, but occasionally one stands out. Who has impacted your life and will probably never know it?

November 15 – A friend in your neighborhood or area.  (Invite that person to dinner at your house.)

November 18 – A body part. (Draw a discreet "Thank you" sign - a word, a heart, a cross, a TY, something - on or near that body part today. Whenever you see it, give thanks for it today. I would steer clear of making marks on your face, however....)

November 19 – Something non-living. (Random add-on: At the end of your post today, write a sentence about the item you're grateful for in your refrigerator at this moment.)

November 20 – An animal.

November 21 – An old friend (yes, it is okay to list more than one if you have to. No rules. Just you.). CALL THIS PERSON TODAY. NO EXCUSES, and NO TEXT. Even if it's just to say "hey, not to be weird, but I just wanted to thank you for being in my life."

November 22 – A family member. What is one of your best memories with that person?

November 25 – A new friend.

November 26 – Your choice: A memory you're thankful to have OR a trip you've taken. Or, heck, do both if you feel like it. 

November 27 – Which one of your senses are you most grateful for?

November 28 – Thanksgiving! Get offline ALL DAY, and spend time with someone you love.  Don't text them, CALL THEM! Each and every one. :) If you’re not around someone you love, go serve someone who needs to feel love today. Give thanks for EVERYTHING today! God is SO good!

November 29 – Freebie. What are you grateful for TODAY?! (If you NEED a prompt today, tell us why you're thankful for technology. :) )

Break a leg! Orrrrrr... an arm.

We've had our first break in the Kelly home. 
My little A's #2 and #3 were playing with the Radio Flyer spring horse, and the little one fell off. Hard. Caution. This post may display some weird arm images.

I was cooking dinner, and was about to start plating up the Carne Picada (yeah, I even had a "fancy" dish all ready), and SLAM! 

Now, anyone who knows me, knows my children are somewhat, um, bricky. 
They fall. A LOT. And they are very rarely hurt.
We get scraped knees, and occasional bruises. But for the most part, their falls just scare them a little, I hardly react (which I swear by. No reaction from me usually = little reaction from them), and they get over it. 

But not this time. 

She fell. 
I saw her fall out of the corner of my eye, and her brother jumped off right after her. But, in my way, I didn't react. I watched. 
She stood up, and starting crying... and trying to lift her right arm. 
It was crooked from the elbow up. And hung there, pulsating... ohmygosh.

I freaked out!!!!
I didn't know what to do! I knew it was broken. I could SEE it! 
Mom adrenaline kicked in, but I still didn't know what to do. 

I swooped down and scooped her up, cradled her arm close to her so she wouldn't try to move it, and interrogated my poor boy to try to figure out what had just happened (he jumped off the back of the horse, but I didn't know if he landed on her or WHAT! I didn't know how she broke it - did he land on it? did she hit the metal rod that links the bottom of the horse? did she catch herself wrong? I still don't know, but it doesn't matter. Fact was, it was broken.)

Husband was still at work, and wasn't going to be home until after 10. 
Aidan was in shorts and nothing else. 
And my little baby... oh, my baby. She was only in a diaper, like she does. 

So, what is a mom to do?! There is no hospital here!
I set up Annie with her baby sister on my bed, slung Adeline's tiny little arm in a stretchy infinity scarf, and frantically darted around the house. 
Shirt for boy. Shoes for boy. Call neighbors to see if they can take boy.
Shirt and pants for baby. 
Diapers in car. Wipes in car. 
Bottle? Milk?
Send boy to neighbor's house.
Put Annie in front seat holding baby's arm in place.
Drive!

I drove to the next town and took her to the ER. By the time I got there it had been almost an hour from when she fell. I held her. Annie cried, and kept saying "I'm so sad! She's just a baby!" And I kept trying to hold it together and be strong mom, and kept saying "It's only an arm." 

We sat at the hospital in Muleshoe, waiting for news. 

It was the saddest thing ever, and apparently my face shows
my heart in this one. I was so sad for her, and she was so strong!

 

Then, they took x-rays. And then, I looked, which was NOT a good idea. 

Awwwwww, SNAP!

They splinted her, and I waited, holding her tight on my lap, singing to her, stroking her hair, reassuring Annie that everything would be okay, and PRAYING LIKE CRAZY that I wasn't lying.

Husband eventually got dropped off at the hospital where we were, thank GOD!

When he arrived and walked into the room, he looked at his little baby (who was extremely big and strong through the whole ordeal - she whimpered from time to time but hardly cried), squatted down, looked at her with such love, and said "Well, I have to say I never thought it would be YOU." 

I didn't either. With the crazy shenanigans her brother and sister pull, it still surprises me that the baby is the one walking around with a little cast.
The doc told us that with the severity of the break (and considering he thought it looked like the break hit her growth plate - which REALLY freaked Annie out. She convinced herself that Adeline would forever have one tiny arm) we needed an orthopedic surgeon. And needed to drive the 1.5 hours to Lubbock. Tonight.
And so, we loaded up, and hit the road and got to the next place close to midnight and were placed in a room.

From the first ER, to the next, to our hospital room, the nurses kept interrogating me... asking me how it happened, looking over her legs and body to see if there were "any other bruises connected to this fall"... when I knew what they really meant was "checking to see if you beat your kids." It was pretty uncomfortable. Especially considering my explanation was that she'd fallen off her spring horse. :| I mean, she and her siblings have fallen off that horse (usually when attempting one-legged rodeo clown tricks or something of the sort) one zillion times! This one just... ugh. I understand why they had to ask and look, and I appreciate that so they can help the children whose parents who are actually not good to their kids... but it definitely made the situation even worse for this already-freaking-out-momma!

Cuddling with my strong girl.

Splinted and hooked up to an IV.

Smiling at the "sleeping doggie" cover over the IV in her hand.
She kept smiling at it, saying "Doddie seeping."
This pic was just before they pried her from my arms and took her
to the back for surgery as she screamed "MOMMY!" over and over. :*(

And so, 
Overnight in the hospital,
a quick orthopedic surgery (!)
where they put her under (!) and
screwed THREE PINS into her tiny little arm.
(thank God my mom and Christy were there. I can't imagine trying to keep my mind off all that by myself. Plus, they're beautiful company...)

Recovering after surgery. She was finally able to eat some Fruit Loops
and drink a little juice. Grandma came to see her all day,
and brought books for her to read.

Play area on the children's floor. She recovered so quickly
and was using her left hand right away!

And then...
she had several more falls through the week which sent splitting pain through her body, and I had a week and a half of no sleep (she would wake up screaming bloody murder like once a night - that arm had to hurt!).

She forgave the horse. I, however, did not. And immediately after
she climbed on and I snapped this "forgiveness" photo, she was OFF!

Driving like a left-handed champ. And playing like nothing had even happened.
She kept trying to climb onto the trampoline! Um, NO! :(

Chocolate cake for breakfast.
What else could I do after that traumatic experience?

I made a trip to Lubbock a couple days ago to get a cast put on (hot pink = precious!). She waited like a rock star.... a bored one, maybe.

Then, the kind nurse removed her splint, and I saw THIS! (Do not look at the 2nd one if you get queasy.)

Removing the splint and trying to clean up her surgery wound...
it was so uncomfortable for her but she did so good!

THOSE are the pins in her arm! HOLY COW!
I didn't know they were so... so... THERE, or I would have
wrapped her  in bubble wrap and made sure she didn't even
BUMP her elbow! Moms heart = BROKEN.

And now, we wait. She only has to wear her cast for TWO WEEKS, which trips me out. I mean, babies must heal with the best of 'em.

This girl has adapted to being a lefty like nobody's business. She eats and draws left-handed, and has kept to giving me heart issues with her climbing up on stools and cabinets and jumping off of things. At least she is happy and energetic and in good spirits! But LAWD, she scares me.

Basically, the last couple weeks encompass one of the scariest moments of my parenting life. And one I hope to never have to encounter again!
Sweet Adeline, my crooked-arm booger.

Annie is hopeful that little Adele will still have an arm when all of this is over, that it won't be crooked, and that she will still be able to use it like "normal" kids.
I assured her that all those will happen. And that, if they don't, psssssh, it's only an arm.

Casted. Like a boss.

P.S. Please, PLEASE send up prayers for us. We go to have the cast sawed off and pins pulled out in less than two weeks. I am very scared. The doc warned me that it is going to freak her out in a pretty bad way, and will be a bit uncomfortable for her to have the pins pulled. :( Pray for her complete healing and my strength!

A Weight Loss Flop

Arg! For those who saw my blogs about weight loss and getting healthy and starting NOW a while back... PSYCHE!

I'm in a funk. A fat one! As much as I'd like to convince myself I'm just zaftig, which can actually be quite flattering, there's really no way around it. I don't look good at this weight. Period. (My chins would totally agree.)

My emotions have been up and down with the move and some troubles, and my little's recent break... and with emotion comes eating with this girl.

I don't know WHY I can't control it, but some days I look back and realize that I snacked all. day. long. And not on carrots and celery, either. It's gross, really.

I don't know what to do to get out of it.

If I lived near a gym with child care, that would be my answer. When I'm exercising, I feel great, and I eat well and clean. But there is nothing like that around here. Nothing.

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It seems silly to think that that is what is holding me back, but the group push and accountability are vital to my health journey. It is the only thing that has ever worked for me.

I have been trying to exercise at home. Nope. Doesn't work. Some would say it's because I really don't care about losing weight or getting in shape. Some will say it's because I have made my list of priorities, and health is not anywhere near the top. Some will say it's because I am being a cry baby or making excuses or just lack drive.

But the truth is, it is none of those things.



Do I know that if I were to do little things throughout the day, they would add up? Yes.
Do I know HOW to eat, and WHAT to eat, and what NOT to eat? Yes.
Do I know how to target muscle groups and other target areas? Yes. (I've actually taken couses on weight training and nutrition management, and read many books and articles.)
Do I know that I could "just" start by taking a little walk each day? Yep. 

And honestly, I don't really need any more advice. I already know the tools I need. I'm just in a funk. In a bad way. My husband leaves for work at about 6 a.m. And he gets home about 7 or 8 p.m. So most would tell me just to put the kids in a stroller and go for a walk during the day. And those people have either never been in an emotional funk, or they have never had two toddlers at once and tried to exercise in ANY shape, form, or fashion with those said toddlers, and most certainly haven't had both.

I'm so sure! This is the dumbest motivation I've ever seen. Stupid.

I'm at the point where I am so incredibly unhappy with my weight and reflection, that I don't even know what to do or where to start. I wish I had a partner here, someone with similar struggles and goals... but that person is yet to be revealed.

Alas, for now, I'm just going to try every minute not to pick up that Millionairre or handful of Peanut Butter M & Ms. I don't mind having those things in the house... I mean, I have kids who would like a sweet treat on occasion. But it's the control that's lacking. Control. (See my previous weight loss post about control and eating if curious.)

And I'm going to try to find a decent Curves or Weight Watchers, though the choices make for some slim pickins. (Get it? Slim? Like that pun? Har, har, har.)

Because, like some addicts need AA or NA to stay on track (though I have mixed feeling about those groups), I need something, too. A group. Of women. Who struggle with their weight like I struggle with mine. Who aren't all "you can never eat a piece of cake and you have to run marathons and lift a thousand weights a day to get in shape."

I need a group that will pull me up from those struggles and hold me accountable and keep me going. Because, being the emotional eater that I am, my next few months of approaching holiday season DO NOT look good. (Nor does my expanding waist and hip line in my ever-growing-tighter pants... yeouch.) 

Tears of disappointment in myself today.
Let the new journey to figuring out what the crap I can do about this begins now.

(Be clear this is not a fishing for compliments, and I don't need a "you're not fat." I know there are bigger, I know I'm not incredibly overweight. But I AM overweight, by a lot, and I FEEL gross and unhealthy. I am too big for my liking, and too big for my body, and my knees and back and feet tell me so. :) Just for clarity.)

Peace!
Jessica

And, these two fat giraffes, because fat animal humor is funny to me right now.

Tee hee hee

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I'm Baaaaa-aaack (a rant)

Re-opened my blog. 
I'd freaked out a couple weeks ago, and so I closed it. Here is the long, drawn-out, rant and rave story that goes along with it. It begins with an innocent mishap, flies into a psychotic reaction, then concludes with a soul-searching peaceful realization. Without further ado...

A1 came home with a comment on her homework about how she needed to listen, and not doodle.
I thought it was hilarious, because - all who know me know quite well - I'm a doodler.
When people call me an artist, I correct them.
Because I'm NOT an artist.
I'm a doodler. 

Annnywho. I reprimanded her, because I knew without even asking that it was something they were supposed to do as a group in class, and that she'd doodled instead. It's not like she knows how to do what I do, yet. I had to teach myself to listen through doodle. To doodle, without listening or paying attention, is dangerous. And, being new to the STAAR test, she has got to listen.

Aaaaaanywho, I reprimanded her - oh, I already said that...  but still, to myself, I thought that it was hilarious. Like mother, like daughter, right? 

I posted a picture of it on Facebook. 
At the time, I believe I had three facebook friends in my town.  Three.
And, I got a call from her teacher on Monday morning. 

Some people had left some ugly comments on the doodle-correction paper photo... things like "that teacher doesn't know that doodling stifles creativity" or "maybe if the teacher wasn't so boring" and things like that. I can see how she'd think that was rude, and a little embarrassing, but whoever shared this information with her (I'm not friends with her on Facebook) apparently left out the fact that I had her back in those comments. I made sure to say that I back her. I made sure to say that A1 should have been listening. I made sure to say that, regardless on whether I agree or disagree with anything a teacher does or says, WHAT THE TEACHER SAYS, GOES. (In 99% of cases, right?)

So, yeah. 

Somehow her teacher, at her new school, in her new town, heard that I (a woman who has taught, and who comes from a family of teachers, and who would NEVER bash a teacher, especially in public) was making her look bad on Facebook. If I was her teacher, I'd have been pissed, too!

I don't know how it came up or who shared what with her. I understand that she was probably completely embarrassed about the whole thing (she heard from like 4 people - and I'm sure what she heard was that I was telling people that she doesn't let kids be creative or some crap like that) - and I was mortified. 

So, I freaked out. 

I didn't realize that one stupid comment or photo on my Facebook page, in a town where I don't know anyone and only had a couple "friends" on my list, would make the front page headlines. 

I'd forgotten that in a town this small, rumors travel very, very quickly.
I'd forgotten that the rumor weed grows like wildfire spreads. 

Though small towns have lots and lots of great attributes, there are also petty, catty people who unknowingly destroy things because they say the wrong thing to the wrong people, or because they just don't know when to shut up. (I know these people exist everywhere, big and small towns alike, they just cause much more damage in small towns, where people are ready and willing to listen and share any new news. Any news, good or bad, is news.)

I don't know how it came about. I don't know who said what or to whom. And I'm positive it wasn't initially a malicious conversation about how the new girl in town hates teachers. But it happened, and it freaked me out. Like, put me in "I HATE THIS TOWN, GET ME OUT OF THIS PLACE, WHY AM I SURROUNDED BY GOSSIPERS" rage and tears. I got off Facebook and closed my blog. 

I mean, if people are going to talk about THAT, what is to stop them from protesting the Kellys? What is to stop them from spreading our dirty laundry - that I've shared on my blog - and twisting and distorting WHO we ARE?

The LAST thing I needed was a bunch of people reading my blog and spreading that me and my husband had issues years ago, and things about our son, and my history of bad choices, simply because 1. They DO NOT UNDERSTAND the redeeming quality of God's grace, and 2. they have nothing better to talk about. 
-'[p[p+/;]\
Don't get me wrong - I don't need their approval. But my children are a different story. They need to find friends and a group of people who love and care about them. They don't need to be ostracized because of things their parents have done or not done (yes, I know it sounds crazy, but lots of parents are waaaaaaay judgmental and often blame children for who their parents are or are not).

In my stir-crazy, out-of-my-comfort-zone bubble, I started to think - OH NO! I'm NEVER going to fit in here! We're not wealthy, and I don't have nice clothes, and my car is old and broken and dented, and I'm outspoken and misunderstood more often than not... OH NO! How will I ever fit in?! 


Then, I slapped myself, and remembered. Jessica Kelly, you don't care. "You don't care who knows what about you or your past. YOU don't care about expensive clothes or boats and cabins or weekend trips," I tells myself. "You love your friends who have those things, and you don't care that you don't." I says, "You'd like to have fun things, but you know that you're young and got started late, and things take time. You are grateful for the things you DO have - a loving and devoted husband, healthy and hilarious and beautiful children, an incredibly supportive and loving family, a nice house, a car, a full fridge..." 

I was embarrassed to realize that I was caught in this materialistic bubble made out of luxury cars and boutique clothing... and it kind of grossed me out. Not because I don't think those things are great... but because I KNOW those things aren't what define me, or my happiness or ability to make friends. 

Sure, it's nice to have friends. But if they don't see beyond my past (!), my car, my hair, my clothes, my furnishings, my loud mouth (insert innocent whistle here)... are they really friends I want to have at all? Superficial friends, surface friends... those are the WORST POSSIBLE* friends to have.

I don't care about not fitting in. I know that I will. I know that we'll all find our niche here. I know that others will love me, and I will love others. And I. don't. care.

Now, I do care if it's going to affect my daughter's schooling. I do care if it affects my children in any way - like, people not wanting to let their kids stay the night or some stupid crap like that. But, in the big picture, do I really want my daughter to hang out with kids whose parents are petty, blind, gossipy, and judgmental, anyway?

I reopen my blog today, because I've done some soul searching and praying, and realized that it doesn't matter. 
I am a writer. It is what I do, and part of my identity. 
I am an open book. And many, many people have grown in love and life and love FOR life because I've had the cajones to share our adoption journey. 
In order for anyone to really benefit from our particular story, they have to know that our life was far from peaches-and-cream when I was in my crisis pregnancy, so I don't hesitate sharing the ugly parts of our past. 

God helps us through trials not only so that WE can benefit and live a full and happy life, but also so that we can share His redeeming grace with others, that they might grow to know and love Him more. How many people never share any of their trials with others because they are embarrassed or fearful of reaction? Do we have any idea how many people's marriages could be saved if people who had experience talked about God's healing of addiction or infidelity? How many teens could benefit from their friends' dads telling them about the hell of getting a DWI or hurting someone while drunk driving? How many babies could be saved if women would share the heartache they experienced from their abortion, or their parenting stories, or adoption journey?

I'm not a push-under-the-rug kind of girl. And, though it gets me in to trouble sometimes, I don't really care.

So, forget loud mouths in this small town.
Let them talk.
May they read my blog and tell EVERYONE, screaming from the top of a cotton gin, that I made bad choices, and have a child I placed for adoption.
Because you know what? I'm PROUD of that. I don't WANT to hide it, even if I live in a place where most are certain to NOT understand.

Maybe, in their screaming, ONE GIRL in high school will hear my story and NOT abort her baby. Maybe ONE PARENT will get over their fear of rejection and humiliation enough to love their daughter enough to help her through her pregnancy and parenting or placing that baby for adoption. Talk about me all you want. It is my life drive to EMBRACE LIFE. And if you have anything negative to say about that, then, well, perhaps you're a shrew who hates life, and should probably seek counseling for that. :D  Not trying to be ugly here, just honest. I mean, I'm all about seeking within ourselves to promote personal growth. :)

I have been given many gifts, and one is the gift of helping people turn on that little light bulb that tells them that LIFE is GOOD - regardless of how you're brought in to it. I've been given a gift to share - to show women, parents, grandparents - that adoption is a life-affirming and loving option. 
I've been given a network of people who know and love me, and who will have my back no matter what life brings. 

And, I know - thanks to my father - that if you bring something in to the light, it gives those who wish to gossip about it much less joy. How fun is it to gossip about something that I'm ready and willing to share? 

Anyway, soul searching is still underway. 
My diet has hit the crapper, because I'm an emotional eater, and it's been a rough couple months. I don't even want to talk about it.

And, God has blessed me with a neighbor who gives wise advice. She's made me realize that nothing really matters. It doesn't matter if I'm a flake sometimes, or late to meetings, or if my kid misses a practice or makes a C on a report card. In the big picture, none of that matters. (More on that later. Don't misunderstand what I've just said.)

All that matters is showing and spreading love. Teaching my children to do the same. Following in the footsteps of our Maker, and getting all of us to Heaven. THAT is what matters. 

Because the world goes on outside this Small Town, America. And life goes on after we die. 

And I'm happy with who I am, and what it took for us to get here. 
I'm happy to share my heartache and bad decisions and God's healing with anyone who will listen. 

And so, read on. 
I'm done fearing what my words of truth and light will bring. 
God is good. 

Peace. :) 
Jessica