I’m behind on blogging and our emergency fund needs refunding.  I can only make up the first by digging in, so here we go …

We have several ‘checks in the mail’ which is both frustrating and a blessing.

First it’s a blessing because:

1. We have clients.  Period.  In this economy that’s something.
2. Daddy is amazingly talented and runs his business 100% off of word of mouth.  Even with our budget of $0.00 in marketing, his workflow for Pixelninedesign is steady, and has been for years.

It’s frustrating because:

1. We have to rely on that money.  We made some bad financial decisions when we were young pups and we are still digging out.  Just a few icky bills to deal with, so there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but sometimes I feel as though I’m digging with a plastic spoon.
2. I HATE using our emergency fund for what I consider non-emergencies.  I don’t consider a web client not paying on time an emergency.  Perhaps I should, but nonetheless it’s hard for me to wrap my brain around someone’s lack of planning becoming my emergency.

Luckily, (for those of you just joining the party) we took Financial Peace University last summer.  Damn Ramsey equipped us with tools that fight off the urge to go spend a bunch of money right now just because there are deals to be had.  In the past, I’d justify it in my mind because my spending was hardly ever on myself – it was almost 100% for my kids.  So that makes it okay, right? WRONG. My kids won’t care about having 2 pairs of new shoes (that will be outgrown before worn out) when they are up to their eyeballs in debt thanks to mom and dad’s lack of inheritance.

The next pitfall I’d run into is I would convince myself that just because something was a good deal, I had to snatch it up.  This was especially dangerous for me when it was something we would need/want down the road.  For example, this week is Black Friday.  Stores are already hammering my email box, twitter and Facebook trying to get my money for a holiday that’s a month away.  Don’t even get me started on the fact that the holiday can be completely ruined by the greed and gluttony we as American’s have come to embrace.  Thanks to Damn Ramsey and his bag of tricks (aka the bible) I have learned that NO deal is worth financial strain or debt.

So, I’m waiting.

I have plans to go with my sister Thanksgiving night to get some deals on clothes (which we have all become desperate for), but if our emergency fund isn’t 100% funded, I’m going just go along for the ride.

So, there’s the latest and greatest in the Chillemi household.  We are digging in, focusing on what is important this Thanksgiving (which includes a houseful of loved ones – SO excited!) and making things up as we go along.

I pray your life and bellies are full on Thursday.  If you don’t have plans, our home is always open.

Prior to leaving, all she wanted to do was go to Sea World and swim with the dolphins.

That’s it.

No Disneyland, Legoland, pool, beach, etc.

Just Sea World.

We had already broken the news that she could not swim with the dolphins, due to her height.  Feeding and petting was IN.  She was stoked.

Upon arrival, the sign said she wasn’t tall enough.

Immediate tears.

We waiting in line to find out why the website said she could, when the signage said she couldn’t.  As we were in line, there was a SW rep talking about the different options offered at the park.  He highly recommended the hour long tour.  He said we could feed and pet the dophins in the “experience” but said the tour was better.  We went for it.

I’m so glad we did.  We spent at least 30 minutes with the dolphins both petting and feeding, fed the eels and sea turtles.  The behind the scenes tour ignited a life-long love for sea life in Monkey.  Who knows how this experience will change who will she become.  It was breathtaking to watch.

Additionally, Monkey made me ride with her on a white water ride that said we may get wet.

I spent the rest of the day with a wet butt and sloshy tennis shoes.

I guess they weren’t kidding when they said we may get wet.

So then we made Daddy do it.  Misery does love company!

Lastly, we went to go see Shamu do all of the things that Shamu does.  It was a great end to a fun-filled day.

Which apparently includes splashing the crowd.

And that was the end of my camera.

Well, for the day anyway.

Monkey was making small talk in the back seat, and she very matter-of-factly mentioned that I was boring.  She wasn’t being mean in any way … just honestly stating her opinion.

Ouch.

I started reflecting on this, and the more that I think about it, I am boring! I enjoy things like volunteering and bookclubs.  I look forward to cooking a good meal, and prefer comfy to cute when it comes to shoes.

My favorite thing to do is just spend time just hanging out and doing this:

Guess that’s not very exciting to a six year old.

I’m not saying I can’t tell a good joke … oh wait.  I can’t.  I am the worlds worst joke teller.

Hmmmm.

Guess I’ll have to work on this.  Don’t want Monkey getting bored with me just yet.  We have her teenage years for that.

She has always have a love for all things bug related and lately her brother has been no exception.  It makes my heart swell to see them (finally) getting along.

A couple of weekends ago, Monga came over to help in my yard.  With my sun allergy, I haven’t been able to do much out there, and Daddy’s been working like mad to pay off debt and make our vacation reservations.  I wouldn’t say the yard is in horrible condition, but Monga offered to come over and make it so we wouldn’t have to do as much maintenance overall, so we jumped on the opportunity.

About a month ago we had questioned our HOA on some things such as the lack of communication between the HOA and residents (ie. Their main form of communication is a newsletter “as needed”, so we asked how we were supposed to know if we missed it), we made a suggestion at that time for a Facebook page to be started since it was free, and residents could stay in the loop.  Our request was denied.  We asked why our trash wasn’t being picked up until about 8pm when we were supposed to have it out by 7am – resulting in trash all over the hood.  They explained the trash company has offered them a refund, and upon questioning confirmed they would not be passing that refund on to residents.  I complained on Facebook to my friends.  Catty?  Probably.  I’ll admit it wasn’t my finest moment.

Two weeks later we received a stack of violations in the mail including:

• Our lattice is white instead of cream like the trim on our house
• We left a child toy on our front porch overnight
• Weeds in our backyard

Most of the letters were duplicative, so I’m not sure if they had them and forgot to mail them out, or if they felt like multiple wordings would make a bigger impact.  Either way, I couldn’t help but feel it was just a bit retaliatory.  After all, our offensive white lattice has been there for three years and has a vine growing up it, therefore why the color matters is beyond me.

Back to Monga.  When she found out how severe my reactions have become to the sun, she graciously offered to come make my yard almost maintenance free.  She told us what plants to go buy, and because of the time of year, we got some great deals.  She helped Daddy plant them, and worked like mad for three days making things look great.

I got a letter today from our HOA that we have a dead bush.  I laughed because Monga was convinced she could save the bush.  I wasn’t.  It became her personal challenge.  Guess not any more.

While Monga and Daddy were working in the backyard, Monkey and Caterpillar played like the best of friends.  Until Monkey did some kung-fu move off the play yard and landed square on her bottom.  She cried.  I came running, as did Daddy.  Mid-wail she stopped and pointed at Daddy’s shoe.

“A caterpillar!”

Sure enough a caterpillar was on the side of Daddy’s shoe.

We brought him inside, read all about him, bought him a home and all was right with the world again.

Well, except for the HOA.  Those people may never be right in my book.

How can it be Monday already?

Monkey was in trouble for a good portion of our time off because she just doesn’t have a heart for Caterpillar.  He adores her.  She is annoyed by him.

Normal sibling rivalry?  Yep.

Heartbreaking?  You betcha.

So, I’m sad to say I wish we had more time.  We fought too much and loved too little.

It’s back to the grindstone tomorrow, and I just want to spend my week enjoying some more of this:

I love her.  She’s a good kid, and I know even if we did have another week it wouldn’t be enough.

Is it summer yet?!

When I left MOPS, my biggest fear was that I wouldn’t continue to feel that connection with moms that is both unique and priceless.  I vowed to myself that I would make every effort I could to ensure that I would go deeper in my relationships, and even take it a step farther to create an intimacy that I was missing whilst among the 80 women in that group.  I also knew I am typically somewhat of a slacker on the whole follow through thing, so of course I was begging God to step in and help me make that happen.  He has provided more than I could even think to ask for.  Isn’t that awesome when He does that?

At a snowy maternity session in December, I had the pleasure of capturing a family I am now proud to call our friends.  It’s been such a joy getting to know them, and our kids get along great.  Shortly after we met, she recommended I consider volunteering for Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep.

Shortly after her recommendation, a few other people also mentioned them to me (some of them on here), and I figured I could apply and see what happens.  Well, last week they contacted me and I am now an affiliate photographer for their organization!  I am excited and a bit nervous about what all it will include, but very much looking forward to sharing what I can with those families who are often facing something only someone who’s been there before (me!) can understand.

I am so grateful my friend took a chance and threw the idea out there.  But even more so, I’m thankful for her friendship.  We’ve been able to spend a lot of time together since it’s been so darned nice outside, and I’m loving it.

I’ve also been really trying to nurture the relationships I have.  Sometimes (okay, most of the time), I’m a hermit, which doesn’t make for great friendships.  Spring is in the air around here and I’m taking cues from mother nature and starting fresh.

However, just like springtime in the Rockies, I’m sure a storm is right around the corner and I’ll be hunkering down… (totally negative Nancy to say, but a girls gotta be honest)  but for now, I’m enjoying my fair weather friends.

So, I went to the store and bought a potty.

Did you know they have a guard for boys?  How smart is that!?  Obviously I am in way over my head here, people.

He sat there for a VERY long time reading, drinking juice and water, water and juice, but nothing more than sitting.

Lots of tooting in typical boy fashion, but no pee.

After two (!) hours, lots of crying (mostly on my part), I let him get up.  He ran into Monkey’s room, and I just knew he was going to mark his territory like a dog.

So I grabbed him, sat him down and went to get something.  I came back to ‘Mommy, I pee-peed and I’m all done’.

Sure enough, he went in his potty.

All of that waiting, and I missed it.

When it was about time to start the whole process all over again, I realized we are heading to Disney World in two weeks, and if this whole potty training thing starts to catch on in his mind, I’m creating a bunch more work and frustration for myself.

That’s the end of potty training for now.

The end.

Your Local Mother of The Year Nominee,

Angie

So, I called her back explained said poop feeling and it was as though I snapped her out of her routine.  The strangest thing happened – Nurse Turntable started stumbling over her words a bit, and no longer sounded like a broken record!  Now we’re getting somewhere!

She recommended I come in for a 5 hour glucose test, so I did that today and let me tell you: There is NOTHING fun about this test.

I fasted for 12 hours before the test, which was no biggie as I was sleeping for a good portion of that.  I arrived right on time, waited in the waiting room for 45 minutes, saw Nurse Turntable and Miracle Man for a few minutes and then we were off to the testing room.  They started with a finger prick and a blood draw.  The finger hurt like heck, which looking at the teeny-tiny hole I know you are all thinking I am a total weenie – but it hurt!

Next up was the most disgusting, sugary, flat soda tasting junk that I had to drink within 20 minutes.  I drank about half and told the phlebotomist it wasn’t too bad and she winked and said ‘just keep drinking’.  She must have done this test a time or two, because it was about that time the sugar hit my stomach and I started feeling pretty sick.  I managed to get the rest down, and I started to get brain fog from the sugar rush.  I was taken to my holding cell for the day, which consisted of a TV and VCR (!) and a couch.  I sat down on the couch, plugged my laptop in and started working on the MOPS newsletter.  Within seconds I realized the couch smelled like cat poop and I started looking to find the hidden treasure.  I never found it, and other people joined me in the holding cell, so I sat down and behaved myself.

The first few hours were uneventful – just a finger poke (still hurt like heck every time!) and a blood draw.  During my fourth hour Daddy called and said he was in the area and was stopping by.  While on the phone, I started crashing.  I went and grabbed a nurse who took one look at me, asked if I was going to pass out and called two other nurses and the phlebotomist in so I could get pricked and drawn before they loaded me full of juice and cookies.  I was shaking and crying by the time they were doing the draw and I am still fuzzy on the details, but I do remember how scared they all looked, which makes me a giggle a bit now.

I gulped the juice they gave me and ate three of the cookie bites before realizing they weren’t gluten free, but I was crashing so hard it didn’t matter at that point.  The stomach ache would be worth it. Around that time Daddy arrived with a fruit bowl from the grocery store, which I shoveled in as fast as I could.  They pricked me one more time to make sure I was safe to go and I was on my way.

I totally tried to come home and figure out what my numbers meant, but google wasn’t too helpful.  However, if any of you know how to read the numbers, here’s what mine were:

Fasting: 110

1 hour: 181

2 hour: 152

3 hour: 110

4 hour: 82

5 hour: 59 (this is when I crashed)

When I came home, I crashed out for a few hours.  I woke up, ate even though I wasn’t hungry, hung out for a bit and went to bed.  I only got up now because I was coughing and tossing and turning because I just feel ‘off’ and I could tell I was waking up Daddy so I came downstairs.  I could tell this because every time I’d cough he’d half wake up and say ‘huh? what did you say?’ LOL!  I still feel disconnected, (hopefully half of this post makes some sort of sense!) so hopefully sleep won’t be far away from me now.

I won’t get the results for about a week, and my fingertips are still killing me as I type (and they are all bruised and nasty), so hopefully I don’t have to do a redo or anything like that.

If everything comes back normal, I am almost scared to mention that I am still not feeling great – who knows what Nurse Turntable will have me do next!

But, I figured, why not? and made the appointment.

Our first visit was pretty uneventful.  I sat down in the waiting room and right away I saw a sign that said “I believe in Miracles”.  That sounds alrighty to me, because I need one … plus I patiently waited for an hour, so I figured if anyone qualified for one, it’s me.

Miracle Man (I’ve never had a self-proclaimed name in my blog before … I kind of like it!) took me off of the meds Hippie Doctor had me on and went on and on about how bad Armour (my old thyroid pills) were and how they aren’t FDA approved, etc. etc.  He also took me off of the Cortisol Hippie Doctor had me on.  Gave me some samples, drew some blood and I was on my way.

The nurse called two days later to inform me that I had Hashimotos.  Um … no kidding.  She said I had toxic levels of T3 due to the Armour (the number was 4.6 for all of you number crunchers … the closer to 1 I get the better I’ll feel)  She recommended I stay on the samples until the next appointment. I was a little excited thinking about the possibility of actually feeling better, and oh, I don’t know, losing weight … and I suppose if we get there I will have to do some dancing around the Pol.

Fast forward to today … the next appointment.

Today they informed me once again that I do, in fact, have Hashimotos.  At this point I am starting to wonder if they’ve written down anything in my chart, because the nurse is sounding like a broken record.  She even has the same inflection with her words as she says them.  It’s fascinating.  Oooh, I know – Let’s give her a name too, just because I am in a bad mood – how about Turntable?  Sounds good to me.

Anywho, Turntable asked if I had any questions, and I almost asked her if she knew if I tested positive for Hashi’s, but I bit my lip and only asked about my sun allergy.  To which she replied I would have to ask the doctor.

Miracle Man came in and he talked a bit about the fact that my anti-bodies are some of the highest he’s seen in his 30 years of practice, so there’s a good chance I will have other auto-immune disorders.  Well, that’s awesome news.  He then told me they will need about 3-4 more monthly visits to lock in my T4 hormone (between .8 – 1.8 is the target) … and that’s only if I don’t get pregnant during that time.  If I do, then we start over.  Then we start over again upon delivery.

It’s about this time that I felt like the walls were closing in and things were feeling a bit more like a prison sentence than a doctor appointment, and at the same time I could hear the collection calls in my head because all of this sounded pretty expensive.   I was able to ask the questions about the sun sensitivity issues I’ve been having, and he told me I had to see an allergist or auto-immune specialist for help with that.  I just don’t understand why he couldn’t run the blood test for the other auto-immune disorders.  It’s not like he wasn’t going to do a blood draw anyway.  But, I didn’t have any fight left in my at that point, so I packed Caterpillar up, let a nurse dig around in my arm trying to find a vein and I left.

I got home to find a nasty message from our credit union about our two-week late car payment … which I had planned on paying as soon as some of Daddy’s invoices from JULY made it into our mailbox.

Today is awesome.