Flogging my Blog - The one where I actually tell you banal things about my week.

Haven't been posting much in the latter part of this week. Sick kids, sick me, very sick computer. (Go on, ask me which one drove me the MOST crazy????).

Kids are still sick, I'm still sick but my baby computer is better. (Just realised I haven't named my computer. I name everything, even the spiders and geckos that move in from time to time. This is wrong).

Alexander has a severe chest infection, possibly pneumonia. It's been less than 2 months since his last bout of pneumonia put him in hospital for a couple of days. Poor kid can't take a trick. He gets sick, without fail, every single school holidays. I really think his little body and mind are so exhausted by the end of the school term that in that last week of school, we see it start, and by the holidays, he's got something decent.

Sadly for this time (there were a LOT of tears, and not just from our boy), he had to miss out on an excursion (with vacation care, he is booked in 2 days a week because I'm not able to drive, I didn't want him stuck in the house for his entire holidays, bored. Seemed unfair) to circus school. He's looked forward to this day (ASD Mums, when I say "looked forward", you know I mean "Obsessed and talked of little else, right?" for over a month, ever since the program for VC was released.

Sammy has the same bug, but not as severe as his brother. He's still perky and happy and playing around. (Read: running circles around the rest of us and destroying the house while Alexander and I pathetically lay there, tissues in hand and say "No..Sammy. Stop. You can't eat all of the Oreos...ok...if you have them will you be quiet?)

He does have one issue. We noticed a couple of days ago that one of the top ribs on his right side is visibly protruding, you can even see it through his shirt. Joel noticed it about 3 days ago, after Sam's bath and called me over for a look.  Now, Sam spends a LOT of time in his day coming to me, shirt up, saying "You can rub my back if you want" which is code for "I need some TLC Mama, so lets lay on your bed and you can just stroke my back or tummy and I can close my eyes and sigh a lot". It's kind of adorable, and something I'm clinging to while he still thinks Mama's back rubs are the best thing ever. My point is (yes, there was one), I'm rubbing his back or his chest every single day, at least 2 or 3 times a day. I think this was something I'd have noticed had it been there for a while. When you rub your hand over his chest now, you can't miss this massive lump (it's not on the other side).

He hasn't seemed to be guarding it and we haven't been aware of any accidents (except the one where he hit his head so freaking hard and had the biggest egg in the history of eggs and still has a bruise the size of my palm 10 days later). He hasn't complained. If you lightly brush over it, he doesn't really react, press it hard and he says "Please don't". So it must be a bit tender.

We all dragged ourselves into the Drs yesterday, to get Alexander on some antibiotics (he's been sick for a week and just gotten worse every day. Fevers through the roof and no sleep for the coughing, so it was time).

Well, when it was Sam's turn - all hell broke loose. He comes to the Drs with me often, every time I have an appointment, he comes. He enjoys trips to the Drs. He loves my GP (won't shut up) and even asks sometimes if we can go, especially on my bad days. "Dr will make you better".

We had a different Dr yesterday. Somone I generally refuse to see because he's as useful as tits on a bull he's not exactly the most go get 'em Dr. He's been at that clinic for at least the 15 years I've been there. He still seems to quiet and shy to actually make eye contact and talk to you, let alone actually listen. I only go to him when I need a script and can tell him exactly what I want and then leave. But my Dr is on holidays (AGAIN! He's nearing retirement age, he owns the clinic and goes on overseas trips all over the world with his wife at least a couple of times a year. His photos of the two of them at Machu Picchu make me want to hate him, but he's lovely).

Sam sat in the corner right away. Watched Alexander get his chest, ears and temp taken, his throat checked. Nothing painful or scary (though noone in 4 years has successfully looked in Sam's throat. Literally. I dont' know if I've mentioned this on the blog before but every Dr we've seen comments on his sheer strength. I tried to explain to daycare once that it is physically impossible to force Samuel to do something he doesn't want to do. They scoff and say "You're the parent. Make him". And we smile sweetly and say ok.  But when they tried to get him to stay in his chair or lay down for a sleep they discovered that it is, indeed impossible. Because to use the type of force necessary, you would have to actually injure him). It's hard to believe, but trust me on this one. There's only so far I'm prepared to go.  In his first year and a bit he had 19 ear infections, and getting a look into this tiny little boys ears and throat was a nightmare every single time).

Sam's turn. We hoped he'd been fine. He hasn't needed a Dr anywhere near him in nearly 2 years. Fit as a fiddle. Nothing more than colds (except a mild dose of whooping cough, and the Dr gave up pretty fast and just said "Yeah, sounds like whooping cough. Lets just go with that. I kid you not).  As soon as the Dr turned to him, he curled up in a ball in the corner of his office. Joel walked over to pick him up. He stayed in that ball, but the screaming started. Over the next 20 minutes, no bribe or cajoling worked. 3 of us trying to hold him still so the Dr could look at him while he screamed 'no no no no no' had me in tears. We are all bruised, him included. Dr got a quick look at the chest and said "I've not ever seen anything like that before".

So, we're off to an xray. Someone, please, please, please tell me how on earth we're going to get an X Ray done? If we couldn't manage 3 people holding him down for a quick temp/ear/throat check and a feel of his chest, how will we hold him still in a room with big, scary LOUD (Sam does not do loud, he is very like his brother there) machines? Long enough for them to get pics of his rib?

I'm actually asking. I'll take advice from anyone.





Anyhoo...it's Friday, so that means it's blog flogging day. I'm not really flogging this post.  I'm flogging this one. It's my piece I wrote for Digital Parents Blogazine and they were lovely enough to publish it. I got some lovely (and one NOT so lovely) comments. Apparently though, from that one, I can't possibly know of what I speak. How would I know anything of depression????? ;-)

Helping people with anxiety, depression or other Mental Health issues.

It's been almost two weeks since RUOK day. A lot has happened in the world, new causes for us to think about, focus on. For so many, it has faded into the background as we settle back into our normal lives and deal with our own issues.

{source}

The day after RUOK day, I started writing. I'd struggled somewhat to come up with anything of value for the day itself. I'm in such a terrible place at the moment and felt like a hypocrite blogging too much about it. It's hard to blog from a positive place about helping people who are struggling when I can't make it out my front door. When I'd written so much already about my headspace and how much I needed help, how could I write anything of worth?

But I felt that with all of the build up and publicity to the day (which is a good thing), the actual question was almost starting to feel contrived.  I wrote this post and am proud to say it has been published in the Digital Parents Blogazine.  You can find the article here, and I'm going to republish it on my own blog today.

RUOK Day has been and gone – Now what?

September 15 saw mental health and the concept of reaching out to others on the forefront of the minds of many Australians. The 2011 RUOK movement was perhaps one of the most successful campaigns of its type, thanks to some high profile contributors, and the wonder of Social Media. That now familiar logo and tag line – “A conversation could change a life” has been etched into our social consciousness for weeks and weeks now. And hopefully, there it will remain for a long time to come.

Barely anyone on Facebook, Twitter or in the Australian Blogosphere was unaware of the campaign, where we were encouraged to take a friend, a colleague, a fellow student or a family member aside and ask – “Are you Ok?”

Such a simple act, yet one we so rarely take the time out of our frantic days to do, or at least, to do properly. To ask the question prepared to listen and care about the answer. Or to be prepared to answer the question, honestly for perhaps the first time ever.

I am in the position of having been on both sides. Just over a decade ago my mother suffered from a major depressive illness and anxiety disorder and was hospitalised for months. Her illness came on very suddenly, and none of us were prepared for its ferocity. She was ill for over a year. Two years ago I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2 Disorder, and have long struggled with severe depression and anxiety disorders. My struggle with my mental health is entering, at the very least, its 8th year.

So I know. I know what it is to watch someone spiral, and be unsure how to help them. I remember the helplessness as you watch someone you love battle a disorder you cannot truly understand until you experience it yourself. And now, I know what it is to be in a hole so deep you cannot imagine that there is ever going to be a way out. I know what it is to think that there is only one way to make it stop. Not to want to die, not to want to leave my family behind, but to honestly believe it is the only option left.

Most of us are aware by now that 1 in 5 Australians will suffer with a mental illness at some time in their lives. That more than 2000 Australians will commit suicide each year. More people will die at their own hand than in a motor vehicle accident. Yet, we still find it so difficult to talk about. There is still such a stigma attached (one I have seen within my own circle of family and friends) that sufferers are reluctant to talk.

So it may be that you got your cup of coffee; you took a deep breath, and asked someone “Are you ok?” Only to have them seem irritated at the question; or chuckle and say “What are you talking about? I’m fine”. As they quickly break eye contact and change the subject.

Don’t be discouraged. It’s not your fault. It’s not that you didn’t ask it right. What you have to understand is that this is what we do. This is the nature of the beast. We don’t let you see us on our blackest days. We do everything humanly possible to keep up the façade of “ok”. There is nothing we won’t do to hide from you just how far from “ok” we really are.

My solitary concern with RUOK day is this. There is so much focus on that one day it can almost start to feel contrived. To be honest this isn’t something that can be dealt with in just one conversation, on one day.

If you take anything from RUOK Day, take this. The important thing is not that one question. It is the willingness to look around you; to make connections with people. Be observant. Take note of any changes in behaviour. Chat to people when you get a chance, try to learn something about their lives. It opens up a far easier line of communication if you’ve spoken before, and have taken the time to share something of yourself too. It is such a debilitating thing, this black dog, and no one feels more vulnerable than those battling it.

So if we don’t open up to you the first time, don’t give up on us. We may have looked you in the eye and said “I’m fine”. But inside, we are screaming “No! I’m not! Ask me again!”

You may need to catch us on just the right day before we summon up the courage to whisper our secret truth “I don’t even remember what fine looks like anymore”.

Pinterest...ing The blues

I am finding myself really drawn to this shade of blue at the moment, I can't get enough turquoise.  So for today, my Pinterest...ing link up will be all about this magnificent, peaceful, stunning shade of blue.

Link up with Tina Gray for her That's Pinterest....ing link up and join the addiction. We don't have a 12 step program. None of us are ready to give it up.

I want these beads so much.  I used to have a river stone, it was smooth and cool, and almost a greenish/blue. I used to rub my thumb along it, whenever I started to get agitated or felt a panic attack coming.  It was so soothing and sometimes just the right distraction. I lost it in our move from Airlie Beach down to here and I miss it so much. I need to find myself something similar. 



Speaking of AIrlie Beach...the water there is like nowhere else in the world. I love our Great Barrier Reef and as glad as Joel and I are that we came home, we both long for the turquoise waters of the Whitsundays.



I think I'm in love with this mantle clock. If only I had a mantle to put it on....and not two little men to crash into it as they wrestle in my living room....AGAIN!

I love this necklace. So beautiful. I dont' even care that I"m not even sure what I'd wear it with (though I love the idea of it next to something crisp and white).

How cute is this little vase? Turquoise AND butterflies? I'm a happy girl.

And for my one day..maybe..dream kitchen...when I'm rich inspiration board...

I know that we're all supposed to be ga-ga over red kitchen aids.  And I used to think I wanted a pink one. Until I saw this. Not quite turquoise, but I love this too...an aquamarine?

One day, I swear.  A Le Crueset - every piece they have, all in turquoise.

Join in the fun over at http://www.tinagray.me/




Be careful though. I've been over to hers this week. She has TIM TAM CAKE!!

All of my pictures can be found on my Pinterest Boards.

The hole gets blacker and blacker.

Still not in the greatest place atm. I have an urgent Drs appt this afternoon, I'm asking for a referral to a psych; an older {than me by a good 20 years} woman with a wonderful reputation. Works very close to us and my Dr, and a friend of mind found her wonderful. The psych I saw the public hospital left me feeling worse about myself every time I saw him, so it's time to ditch the public system and go private. Am embarrassed to admit this is only possible because I now have a disability pension card.

I'm a little unsure of where to start with her. Do I just let her do a complete history, without mentioning bipolar {as I'm not 100% sure I agree with the diagnosis, considering I haven't had anything close to a manic phase in 2 years, despite only being on ADs}. Do I just start all over again and see what she thinks?

Or do I go in, say I have this, this and this, and work from what may be a slightly questionable diagnosis?

Either way, something's got to give. My fear of leaving the house has turned into a fear of leaving my bedroom.  I don't mean that I can't actually leave. Of course I can. I have 2 children and I cook and clean where I can.  But there is what almost feels like a physical pull to bring me back to my 'safe' place. This room, this bed, this computer.  All I want to do is read, browse, blog or sleep.  I don't want to talk to a soul.

Joel said something to me the other day {He'd asked me the day and I mentioned that I never know anymore. When you don't leave the house for weeks at a time, they kind of fun into each other. Especially on school holidays}.  He offered to rearrange his day and come home early on Friday, so we could all go to the park.  He said I must just be so desperate to look at something other than this house.

I smiled and murmered something in agreement. We'd take the boys somewhere. But my stomach fell and I felt I'd be sick. It felt like there were rocks in the pit of my stomach. Just dread. Dread at having to leave my sanctuary.

I blogged last week about my 'friends in my computer' and someone (I think it might have been Bron -  Maxabella?) very gently and sweetly pointed out something I know to technically be very true, and very important.

I agree that the blogging community is supportive, caring and marvellous, but it can't take the place of the wonderful world outside your door. What I think some of us forget from time to time is that bloggers are just a random assortment of people, so it leads me to believe that everyone (blogger or none) is supportive, caring and marvelous if only we would open up to them...

And of course, she's right. Kind of. There are lots and lots of lovely people out there. It's just that a)the ones I want, the ones I opened up to and let myself love and lean on are not available to me anymore. And b)I'm utterly incapable (terrified?) of getting out there and facing anyone else. I can't make eye contact anymore and I can't do small talk anymore. I can't tell you I'm struggling, I don't have the words. I would just end up sobbing and embarrassed. But I no longer have it in me to pretend I'm anything other than a blubbering mess.

So it's easier {on them, on me} to stay in. Stay away. Keep my phone off the hook. Keep my door locked and my window closed. Use the computer and {if I absolutely must} text messaging.

And I can lean on you. Because I'm not sure how random we are. I think that even in the blogging world, for the most part {certainly there are plenty of exeptions} like meets like. I can point to more than a dozen blogs of people struggling seriously with major mental illnesses, major social anxiety, depression/bipolar/PTSD/PND etc. People who would be happier never to leave their houses again. Of course I know others who feel the opposite and feel that being cooped up inside is contributing to the problem.

I know it's worse since I stopped driving. Since I became vision impaired {for want of a better term. I don't know how to refer to it. It's one number up from legally blind? Impaired enough not to see across the street or read a sign or watch a normal tv or read a book or ever drive again, but not enough to be legally 'blind'. What do we call that? Sif, do you know?}

Without the ability to just get in the car and force myself to visit Tam, my sister in law and probably the only person I could actually visit, it's gotten far worse. I don't do the shopping anymore, it's split between online and Joel on his way home from work. No chemist runs. No Drs appointments without Joel and the boys with me. No trips to the library. I'm too sore, cannot physically walk around a shopping mall anymore {we tried it yesterday. I'm paying dearly for it today}.

But for now, there's just this. There isn't much I can change. There's nowhere within walking distance {especially in my current physical state} to just 'go', to get out. Noone I know within walking distance. No groups I could join {I'm going to be honest. That's a terrifying thought}. Noone is coming to me. And now I'm more terrified of them coming to me than I am of me going to them. At least if I go, I can leave when I need to. Someone intruding on my safe place...that's the worst thought of all.

I don't have anything specific I'm afraid of. I know I keep mentioning 'terrifying'. And one of the things that used to annoy the ever-loving-crap out of me with my last psych and with the mental health nurse was mid anxiety attack, or when I was in a state of high agitation, they would say "what are you thinking about?" "What do you think is going to happen?" "What do you think will happen if you go out?" "what do you think will happen if you stop scratching?".

I don't F*ing know. Am I the only mental case {excuse the term, it's just how I'm feeling as I sit and analyse this} who isn't really congnizant during all of this? That doesn't have a specific fear? Simply a compulsion? A piece of imaginary elastic tethering me to my home? A compulsion to scratch,to do something with my hands. An absolute inability not to shake my legs.

I'm not curled up scratching my arms thinking something bad is going to happen if I don't. My legs aren't shaking because I think I'll die if they don't. They shake because they must. I'm not scared of leaving the house because I think something terrible is going to happen {except that I may be looked at and there is literally nothing worse than that thought. There's nothing I won't do to avoid being looked at, even by Joel, my Dad, our family}. It just is what it is.  I don't have any of the answers they seem to want from me.

Am I alone in this? Friends, when you have an anxiety attack, what are you thinking? And do those stupid, F*ing breathing exercises do anything at all for you? Other than make me literally want to hurt the stupid b!tch that keeps telling me to do them? What the hell does she know?

I'm rambling. This wasn't even supposed to be a post. This was supposed to be a Pinterest pic post, using a colour I'm drawn to at the moment, with a quick "I'm not myself at the moment, Sorry". Look what I did. I vomited all of my angst and some of my anger and my fear and my frustration all over this stupid blog {let's see how long it takes this new Psych to ask me what a blog is and make me feel like a moron or an oddity, amongst oddities like the last ones did One of those computer people....}.

I know that she will tell me {or I can tell me} to eat better {absolutely essential, I realise, though hard with the Pred}; get exercise {even my Rheum agrees this is currently impossible} and get good, regular sleep.  I don't even know where to start with the sleep. My sleep patterns are all over the place. I'm rarely asleep at night before 2am. I wake and sleep for 3-4 hours until 5ish before I get up to get my boys off to school & work. By which time I have Sammy until 5ish and everyone comes home.  On the weekends I sleep each afternoon, for as long as I can get away with it. Partly through exhaustion. Mostly through escape.

The escape is worrying me. It's hard to admit this on here, but usually my diazepam lasts months. My last packet has not. It has lasted about a month. In the past few months I've gone from needing them occasionally for panic attacks/agitation, to needing them at night for muscle pain to now needing 10mg-15mg every night to calm the agitation and let me sleep. I'm afraid of that. I know it's addictive. I know I have an incredibly addictive personality. But already, my brain wants something stronger, something that will make sleep dreamless and deep, easy to come by.

But to her {and I will understand why} I will sound like I'm just making excuses. How do I get a Dr who understands the multi-disciplinary medical issues I'm dealing with and look at the big picture, the entire story. Not just the depression or bipolar or whatever it is.  Not just the diabetes. Not just the Fibro. Not just the auto-immune that's still up in the air. Not whatever the hell happened to my eyes. Not just the obesity. Not just that I have a strong family history of screwed-up-ness and am the mother of one {possibly 2} boys with autism {not that that's nearly as stressful for me as it is for most. I'm incredibly lucky there}. Not just that some really,really bad stuff has happened to me {I did have a Dr joke to me, after I'd kind of hinted at it that I was a psych's wet dream! He didn't use those words, I used them and he laughed nervously and kind of agreed,lol. I have a bit of everything, he said}.

So what do I say? Where do I start? And is there anyone out there that this makes sense to?

Sunday Sessions - The 80's are back today.

Joining up once again for Thea's Sunday Sessions.

I'm a sap {fairly sure this has been established, so a lot of my favourite 80's tunes are love songs}.

I've decided to do my Top 5 Songs of the 80s.

Madonna - Crazy For You - I think I was about 11?

Possibly one of my favourite songs EVER - Foreigner - I Want To Know What Love Is

The moment I heard this song, it became my favourite.  I don't know if I'll ever get over knowing George Michael and I bat for the same team. *sob*

What 80's girl could not love Manic Monday?

Another that remains a favourite, even now. Phil Collins circa 80's - Love

What were yours?

Link up with Thea's Blog Hop and tell us what you're listening to today.

What do you think?

There have been a few news stories this week occupying my mind, and I wonder what some of my blogging friends think.  I know what family thinks (the opposite of me), I know what people on my parenting forum think (mostly the opposite of me, though not everyone). I'd love to know what my Blogging friends think.

First question. Are you in favour of the death penalty? In any cases? In some cases? In no cases?

At the moment, this one is most on my mind. Were you aware of the execution yesterday in Georgia, of a 42 year old man, Troy Davis?  Do you think that yesterday's execution of Troy ought to have gone ahead? Do you think that the State of Georgia (and The SCOTUS, in their inaction) might have executed an innocent man? Or do you think that after 22 years in prison, they had the right man?

Troy Davis - image courtesy of Amnestyusa.org

I watched the live stream coverage on @democracynow's website. Watched for 4 hours as amnestyusa and democracy now's activist spoke to lawyers and family and members of the public, all determined to protest not just this execution, but all.  I took an online poll and was disturbed to see that 70% of respondants believed in the death penalty at least in some cases.

I can't tell you how vehemently opposed to the death penalty I am. Every arguement thrown at us by it's proponents can be discounted.

*It has not proven, in any country to be a deterrant to crime.

*It has not proven, in any country to be foolproof - ie, these people more often than not die cruel deaths.

*It is NOT more expensive to keep someone in prison for life rather than execute them.  It has, in fact, been proven to be much MORE expensive to go through with an execution, with appeal after appeal after appeal.

*It is not the mark of a civilised society to kill it's own citizens. How do we teach our children it is wrong to take a life when they see on the news that the government has done just that?

*It does not bring 'closure' to most families of vengeance. It is not justice at work. It is vengeance. And it is pointless. The only people really hurt are the families of the prisoner.

*Far too often, it is discovered later that the wrong person was executed.

I'm ashamed that our country, while opposed to the death penalty is not brave enough to stand up to the United States and say "What you did was wrong. You had no right to execute that man". You cannot execute someone when you are so unsure about his guilt.  We have little problem standing up to other nations and decrying their human rights abuses.

When there is literally no physical evidence that ever tied Troy Davis to the killing of Officer Mark MacPhail then there is reasonable doubt.  When the only evidence against him was the 'eyewitness' testimony (generally considered to be the least reliable evidence of all) then there is reasonable doubt.  When 7 of the 9 people officially recant their statements, claiming either police brutality or coersion, or fear of the man who it is claimed has confessed to others that he actually committed the crime, Sylvester "Redd" Coles (the man who in fact was the person who went to the police originally and told them it was Davis), then surely there is enough evidence for at least a new trial. 

When the Pope, Former Presidents, Desmund Tutu,  The former head of the FBI, members of the prosecution, members of the public who are in favour of capital punishment all come forward and say "This execution is WRONG. There is too much doubt. It is a travesty of justice", then surely the SCOTUS can do more than offer a one sentence missive and refuse to allow a new trial.



When Casey Anthony almost certainly murdered her daughter, with physical evidence casting suspicion on her, but the prosecution is not able to meet their burden of proof and a probable child killer goes free, the world is outraged.
But every time Troy Davis' legal team tried to appeal, tried to get evidence looked at or admitted into court, they were told 'no, you should have found this before. You haven't been able to prove to us that you are innocent". Troy Davis should not have ever HAD to prove his innocence. It was not his burden. It was the prosecutions' burden to do so. Instead, after the death of a police officer, you have a DA determined to make someone pay for it, and unwilling to look at anything else.

It is a travesty of justice. It is despicable. And it is just one reason why the death penalty should be abolished.

2010 - The following 23 countries carried out executions in 2010: Bahrain (1), Bangladesh (9+), Belarus (2), Botswana (1), China (2000+), Egypt (4), Equatorial Guinea (4), Iran (252+), Iraq (1+), Japan (2), Libya (18+), Malaysia (1+), North Korea (60+), Palestinian Authority (5), Saudi Arabia (27+), Singapore (1+), Somalia (8+), Sudan (6+), Syria (17+), Taiwan (4), USA (46+), Vietnam (1+), Yemen (53+).

2011 - As of 5 May 2011 executions have been reported in the following 9 countries during 2011: Bangladesh, China, Iran, North Korea, the Palestinian Authority, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, UAE, USA.


Child Execution - Since 2009 Iran and Saudi Arabia have executed offenders who were under the age of 18 at the time the crime was committed,

That's some great company you're keeping, USA. You want to be a 'leader' in the world, tell people to stop their human rights abuses? Perhaps you ought to look at the 36 states of your own union that still implement government-sanctioned murder on it's citizens.

Do you agree with the death penalty????








 
Adding this to this week's FYBF over at Glowless' blog. Hop on over and join in.

My Beloved

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

        i 

carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)e.e cummings

It's a late post, and I wasn't going to do one today, just not feeling very 'bloggy' - this lurgy won't leave us be. Joel has it too now. The boys are better, but this also means they are running circles around two very tired, sick parents. :D

We're having an anniversary do-over probably next weekend. We'll make a day of it. Neither of us well enough to celebrate today, and Joel having to work didn't make for our best anniversary.

But. It must be marked. In this, journal of my heart, no matter how public, I declare this, our 14th wedding anniversary as still sacred to me. It is 14 years since I have been his wife. 14 years since we stood before God and our families and friends and pledged an eternity together.

14 years since we promised "in sickness and in health". More than 12 years that Joel has had to live up to that part of the bargain, far more than any 21 year old ever imagines they will. And live up to it he has. Every day, every month, every year he has taken care of me, refused to resent me, done nothing but love and put me first.

How did I get this lucky? I know not. I'm noone special (except as the matriach of this little family, I am priceless) and have done nothing to deserve such a blessing. But somehow, this frumpy, snarky, ugly duckling turned 21 and found out her best friend in the world was falling in love with her. And miraculously, he waited (not long, I'll grant you) for my head and heart to fall in line and realise I loved him back. That this was it-for both of us. This was it for us forever. It was less than 3 months later he dropped to one knee and asked me to be his wife. As though there was ever a doubt it was meant to happen.

We've been through the mill in the last 14 years. If I were to tell you the things that have happened to us, to our families, to our closest friends, you'd not believe me.  All written down - it is too much. Drama, heartbreak, illness, death, birth, love. And while some of it has been almost sprit-breakingly hard to deal with, there has always been that one constant. His quiet strength, his love for me, his goodness, soul deep.

“I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of Being and ideal Grace”

                                                                    -Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

I don't want to think about where I would be without him. I don't want to imagine my life, had I taken another path. I don't dare imagine myself without Joel as my beloved. It doesn't bare thinking about. It seems empty and hopeless. And perhaps that is not politically correct, this declaring myself dependant on this man. And perhaps that's dangerous, placing my heart so squarely in his possession. So easily he could crush it.

He's worth the risk. He's worth the trust. Even if it all ended tomorrow (my heart speeds up as I type this and I want to wake him, as he sleeps next to me, just reassure myself he is mine) and my heart was trampled, he would have been worth every moment of pain, for every moment of happiness he has given me. And for the sons we created together.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

-William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18

I love you, Joel. Thank you for being brave enough to make the first move. Thank you for being patient enough to wait for me to stop being an idiot. Thank you for asking me to marry you, and facing my Dad. :D  Thank you for loving me, constantly, demonstratively, even though your life is more complicated with me in it.  Thank you for being the most amazing husband - the husband I'd always imagined having. My Gilbert Blythe. My Mr Knightley. My Bingley and Darcy. My Joel.

Thank you for being the most incredible role model our sons could ever have as they grow up. My fondest, deepest hope is that they grow into men like you. And that they grow up always feeling the way we all do about you now - that you, more than anything else, you make our lives amazing.

Thank you for loving me, and letting me love you back. Please, don't ever stop. I promise I won't. For as long as men can breathe and eyes can see...

HELP!

Ok. Am prepared to beg for help.

I've posted this question twice in the Google Apps Help Forum, I have read FAQ, looked everywhere for anyone else having this problem, and I'm getting nowhere.

I purchased this domain via blogger a couple of months ago. I wanted to attach an email address to it - so melissa.mitchell@thethingsidtellyou.com or something similar.

So I sign in to Google Apps. It asks me for my email address at thethingsidtellyou.com as though I already have one. Which I don't.  So I click on 'can't access my account' and it tells me to contact my domain administrator for further instructions'. 

I've tried a post on Google's Message Board. I can't seem to find where to ask Blogger the question.

I'm stuck.  Am prepared to hand over my password (if I 'know' you) and whatnot for help at this point. It's been forever, and I've gotten no replies at all to my queries. 

I wanted to make up some business cards, but I have held off until I have an @thethingsidtellyou.com email address.

Driving.Me.Crazy!

Ooh. That's Pinterest....ing - Awesome Words

Linking up to one of the loveliest bloggers I 'know', Tina Gray for our Pinteresting Link Up.  Finding some of our favourite pins from Pinterest for the week.

She has gone with a similar theme to me this week - I'm all about awesome quotes this time around.

Feel free to head on over to http://www.tinagray.me/ and join in. Feed the addiction. ;-)

Some quotes that made me chuckle this week - nothing too deep and meaningful. Like I've said. Keeping it light and fluffy this week.

All of these images can be found on my Pinterest board.

Sunday Sessions - keeping up with real romance

Linking up again with Thea (and I'm sure Shelly, always playing too xx) for Sunday Sessions. 

I meant to post this one last weekend, but was sick and didn't play along.

We went to a wedding a couple of weeks ago. The groom is a workmate of Joel's, great guy. Just fun and sweet and it turns out, from an incredibly talented musical family! I kid you not. Every single one of them plays at least one instrument (WELL!!!!) and sings!

Anyway, one of Dave's brothers got up during the reception (they did all of their own music, it was amazing) and sang this song. It's long been a special song in their family, and believe me when I tell you, his version was even better (and more emotional) than the original (it was a request from the bride).  There wasn't a dry eye in the house.

Real romance, to me, isn't just flowers and chocolate and dinners and passion. It's a love that lasts an entire lifetime.

Feel free to bawl with me (if you don't, I might think you have a heart of stone. Just sayin....)

And an old favourite "My Funny Valentine" but redone here by my favourite {delicious} trumpet player, Chris Botti {who I'm fairly certain I've drooled over mentioned on here before} and Sting being all sexy 'n' stuff as they battle it out for his wife Trudy.  Lucky Bitch.

EDITED - To add the actual song. I LOVE this performance. I LOVE LOVE LOVE watching him sing right at her. The part where he says "She's mine" and "She's my favourite work of art..."...sigh.    I've said before that I would HATE to be sung/played to (being the centre of attention, where on earth do you look?), but I do believe I might make an exception in this case.  Do you see how he looks at her?

And while I'm feeling the love {it's our 14th wedding anniversary on Tuesday}, I should throw in 'our' song. {We have a couple actually. This isn't the one we danced to at our wedding. There was a problem and for some reason we didn't have it {before the days of quickly downloading iTunes}, so we danced to something else. There are a lot of songs that are meaningful to us now, but this song, and this version by Tony Bennett, is ours.