FMF: Story: The Picky Little Prince

What's an FMF?
Five Minute Friday...but I never adhere to five minutes.  I'm a rebel.  It's free writing with no thinking.  Just writing.  TheGypsyMama gives you a word and you just write about it.  Whatever comes to mind...  Ready?


GO!


I sat and stared at the computer screen for ten minutes after getting this word yesterday.  There!  My five minutes are up!  Woot!  Naw, it doesn't work like that.  I love writing and I want to do it.  So I went about my day just thinking about the word "story".  What story could I tell?  Should I make something up?  What would be interesting for my loyal fans (all two of them) to read?  Should I talk about food some more since that is like all the subject matter I have lately?  Which reminds me, did you know that 25 Swedish Fish are only 150 calories??!!  Mmm....gummy goodness...

But I digress....a story.  Let's tell a story...

There once was a little prince.  He was the pickiest prince one would ever meet.  This prince would not eat.  He would tell you he loved bananas.  But really, he only loved them because they are yellow.  Give him a peeled banana on a platter...heck, smother it in ice cream, chocolate, nuts, whipped cream, and a cherry on top, and he would turn up his nose.

The prince was very little.  The king and queen and all the royal doctors were concerned about him.  He would not eat a bite.  Soon the decision was made that he needed help with eating.  "We must teach him to eat!" said one of the royal doctors!

"Teach him?" murmured the people of the court.  How do you teach someone to eat?  Aren't they born with that desire?

The queen took the prince to a far off land.  There they stayed for a month and a half.  Every day, the little prince was offered food.  He would refuse it like always, but if he tasted it he would get a reward.

A bandaid for a bite?  YES!

15 minutes of Spiderman for three bites?  YES!

A call to Gramma when you finish it all?  YES!!

Soon the little prince was eating everything...especially bananas on a platter smothered in ice cream, chocolate, nuts, and whipped cream with a cherry on top!

STOP!

Oh how I wish this story would come true over the next couple of months!  I know this is going to be a long, hard road.  I hope I have the strength.  I'll just come back to this story and remind myself that it will happen...

The Picky Little Prince

FMF: Dance

What's an FMF?
Five minute Friday...but I never adhere to five minutes.  I'm a rebel.  It's free writing with no thinking.  Just writing.  TheGypsyMama gives you a word and you just write about it.  Whatever comes to mind...  Ready?


GO!

I just saw Madagascar 3 with my son JJ.  So as soon as I saw the word for this week is DANCE, I sang to myself, "Duh duh da da duh duh duh duh, Circus, duh duh da da duh duh duh duh, Afro, Afro Circus Afro Circus, Polka Dot, Polka Dot, Afro Circus!"  Then I grinned to myself.  Just the picture of all those bright colors on Marty as he sings this silly song doing a little dance makes me feel like a kid inside...

Then I remembered that during said movie, I did a little dance of my own...I danced clear around my diet (ehem, it's not a diet, it's a way of life).  I had lots of popcorn....and some nachos....and some Mr. Pibb (not diet)...  I swear JJ made me do it!  He forced me down and shoved it down my throat and...

I also had a peanut butter cup earlier today.

BUT in my defense, I did eat a 90% lean burger for lunch with NO BUN!  Woot!

Eh, tomorrow's another day.  I still want that banana split, by the way.

STOP!

For the fun of it though, do a little dance with me:



Wanna do an FMF too?  I'd love to see it so leave the link below!

He's Amazing...

Tyson has been trach free for 2 months now.  He's had two colds in the meantime...and he's gotten through them so much easier than he ever has before.  Now that there isn't easy access for the germs to go directly to his lungs, his head colds stay head colds instead of inevitably becoming pneumonia.

While Tyson was trached for those 4.5+ years, we always said that when he got that darn thing out for good we were going to have a huge party.  And now it's time for that!  On January 28th, Tyson gets to have his very own celebration of life, perseverance, hope, faith, and health.  Our boy has made it through so much and although this is only the end of one part in his life, the journey is not over.

I was working on Tyson's DVD slideshow all day yesterday.  It will play continuously at his party displaying the very reason we are there to celebrate.  As I was going through the photos and video clips, I was brought back to those moments so vividly.  I spent much of yesterday with a huge smile on my face and big tears falling from my eyes.

I remember that day he first smiled and I caught it on camera...

I remember that day that he lay in that big huge hospital bed looking like a little doll in his little blue hospital gown (which I kept, by the way!).

I remember the day we met Dr. Grifka, and I remember the grilled cheese and tomato soup I ate at the hospital that Friday night.

I remember holding both my boys on my lap for the first time watching them smile and giggle at each other.  I remember that they got hiccups at exactly the same time.  The first time I ever got to feel like I really did have twins.

I remember whispering to my son that he didn't have to stay for me, that if he wanted to go with God it was ok.  I felt like I gave up, but I didn't want him to hurt anymore.

And I remember that moment that Tyson refused to give up himself.

I remember watching him fight his physical therapist and teachers during therapy, just to show them all up by doing what they wanted on his own a few hours after they left.  Sitting, crawling, walking....he was never supposed to do all that.  But he did, and even better, he did it on his own time to show his strength and will.

I remember when he first got his freedom from his tubes and he ran around the living room like a terrorist sprung free from prison.  And I remember that smile.

Oh that smile....

I remember each moment so vividly.  I swam through the sea of memories yesterday, then I looked at my miracle boy who never gave up with new eyes last night.  He's amazing....  I can't think of a better thing to celebrate and a better reason to party!

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
www.onetruemedia.com

One of those kinds of naps...

Have you ever had one of those naps where you are so deeply into sleep that you are completely oblivious to the world and you wake up thinking "Where the hell am I?"....and you haven't been drinking or doing any other psychotropic self-medicating to get it....

Every Sunday, when the TV turns to football just after noon, that's my cue to take a nap.  It's like a switch goes off in my brain, and I can no longer function.  My body gets heavy, my eye lids decide that staying open is entirely too much work, and I sink into sleep....usually in my recliner just after I have thought that I can probably endure football for a little bit.  Then Luke will inevitably say, "Go take a nap, baby."  Music to my ears!

Yesterday, I curled up in my bed and pulled my heated blanket up over me.  It was barely hitting 20 degrees outside.  Our upstairs is notoriously frigid.  In fact, I can keep a glass of water next to my bed, and it remains cold enough to drink for days.  I set the blanket's temperature thingy-ma-bob at 4, right in the middle of it's settings.  Oh so toasty...perfect...

I was pulled into a deep, deep sleep.  My body and brain were so tired that I don't even think my mind had enough energy to dream.  I was hugged by the heat of my blankets as I floated around in my nothing-ness with my cheetah blankey snuggled against my cheek.  It was one of those things I wanted to go on forever....

The light turned on and I hear, "Um Mom-bee?"  Tyson, our only child home at the time, was waking me up with his own personal term of endearment for me.  I opened my eyes as my body still slept all heavy and weak.  I sleepily said, "Hi Ty-bee.  Is it time to get up?"  I turned to look at the clock and realized I had been sleeping for 2 hours.  Hardly a record for me.  In fact, that's pretty normal of a nap in my case.  But I was in that solid sleep that could have gone on for several hours.  I flopped my head back on the pillow as Tyson came to the side of my bed telling me to get up so he could watch Spiderman.  "Where's Daddy?" I said.  He says, "Sweepin' down dairs."  Ah, the curse of Sunday afternoon football has hit him as well!

I reluctantly got up feeling like my body was definitely telling me something.  I must have needed rest either from what happened prior to the nap or what was coming...  A few hours later, I figured out why.

Apparently, my body was preparing me for an emotionally fueled evening brought to us by the letter E.  I won't go into it, all I can say is it's a situation that I'm done bending over backwards for and ready to let the court figure it out.

Did I really awaken from pure heaven for this?  Some days I think that constantly....  Sigh....  Now to find the next day where I don't think that...

Yuletide Frenzy

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.





Today's Word:  Open
GO
After a marathon shopping spree on Black Friday (plus a few extra drive-by shopping trips over the four weeks to follow), countless nights of meticulously wrapping and decorating boxes and oddly shaped toys, carefully thought out stacking of presents underneath the tree (the present to be opened last must be the best, yah know), 25 days of anticipation and kids itching to rip open those precious jewels teasing them from under the tree...after all this work to make Christmas morning perfect....to make it a fantastic memory planted into the minds of my children...
A frenzy begins, the sound of ripping paper, colors of green, red, blue, white tossed left and right.  Bows that were hand curled thrown to the side with out being glanced at.  Who has the garbage bag?  What's the dog chewing on?  Who got that gift for you?  Oh, I missed their reaction to that toy they've been wanting so badly....
Excitement is high.  Seeds of memories are collecting in their heads.  Joyful sounds of "Yes!!!  I wanted Santa to bring this to me!" and "Can we play with it now?  Please please!" are spinning around the room.  Clothes are always pushed off to the side without a second glance and back on to the next toy we go...
And all the while, I sit back and just watch with a smile on my face trying to soak it all in.  I think I'm going to start wrapping my kids' school close in Christmas paper each morning so we get to have this thrill daily.
STOP
Hope you all had the Merriest of Christmases and the chaos of the season brought magic to you and yours!

To FB or Not to FB, THAT is the Question...

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.



Today's Word:  Connected
GO
One of my very dear friends, the one I share the pear tattoo on my foot with, decided last year to delete her Facebook account.  Her reasoning?  It made life more impersonal.  Birthdays are filled with meaningless wall posts instead of cards and phone calls.  Couples are FBing each other across the room instead of talking.  Family members are lurking on your page instead of asking how you are.  I see her point, but I feel this is how the times are.
If we go back twenty years, FB was around, it just wasn't called that.  Birthday cards were the wall posts.  You might get a card in the mail, but all it is is a Hallmark signed by your Aunt Betty.  Nothing personal....  Couples, especially those just starting in their relationships, passed notes to each other.  Remember how we all used to fold those into little puzzle squares?  ...And family members lurked in their own ways.  They meddled in your affairs by gossiping about what is going on in your life, and those "affairs" they speak of are ones that they "heard through the grapevine."
To me, Facebook makes connecting so much easier.  I don't like to talk on the phone.  I feel awkward and don't know how to talk.  In fact, I feel that way quite often about talking in person too.  I call it "socially awkward".  I've always talked and communicated better through writing.  Facebook has given me the opportunity to develop relationships so that I do end up feeling comfortable "irl" ("in real life" if you aren't into the computer age shorthand) when talking to them.  My good friend, Erica, is a great example of this.  We've known each other for years, but never talked until about a year ago over Facebook.  Now she's one of my favorite friends to do things with and lean on when I need a shoulder to cry on and to be there when she needs one too.  Plus, I love her kids and her family.  They've adopted me in a sense and it makes me very happy to be able to enjoy events with these people instead of feeling like I don't belong.
I like to share my photos, my goings-on, my writing, my sense of humor, my actual real life and not a through-the-grapevine rumor, with all of my friends and family.  And I like to be part of theirs as well.  
I'm sad that my friend left FB because now I get bulk emails that she sends to her entire family, links to a third party online album to view pictures of her kids, and I feel obligated to get on Twitter to follow her feed, but I have to sift through all the celebrities I check up on when I am bored (and that's like once a month really).
So connect away, my dears!  You don't know who is smiling because they see your pictures and posts every day!
STOP

Clear or Rainbow Polka Dots on Plaid

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.






Today's Word:  Color
GO
For years when anyone asked me what my favorite color was I would say, "Clear" or "Rainbow polka dots on plaid."  I honestly haven't, and don't, have a favorite color.  I can't commit to the simple task of choosing a color which I believe is the best of the best.  I worry that I will end up with a million things that are purple, that everyone will buy gifts for me that are blue, that I am neglecting orange and pink and red....  I'm so neurotic!
Although I don't have a favorite color, I do know and appreciate the benefits of how colors affect my mood and outlook on what's going on externally in my life.  I've surrounded myself with orange quite often as it brightens me up, makes me lift myself out of a slump, makes me happy.  I've noticed I will where blue, gray, or purple when I'm feeling down.  I where white when I'm wanting to look sleek, clean, elegant, and black when I want to look mysterious, sexy...and of course, thin.
Colors really do have an impact on mood.  In DBT therapy, we were talk many techniques using colors to regulate ourselves in intensely emotional times.  To feel calm, visualize breathing in blue, breathing out red.  To distract yourself to get out of emotional mind, choose one color and name as many objects as you can that are associated with that color (ie.green--grass, granny smith apples, frogs, leaves, etc).  Feeling angry?  Take a red crayon and color the hell out of a piece of paper in frantic scribbles.
Maybe that's why I can't pick a favorite color...I have bipolar disorder, my moods swing back and forth to high extremes.  If color reflects mood...and I am either clear or rainbow polka dots on plaid....
STOP

Five Minute Friday: Tired

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.



Today's Word:  Tired
GO
It's interesting that this is the word today as it has been a permanent fixture in my vocabulary for the last few weeks.  I've had a cold for a while now and it has sunken into my chest.  It hurts to breathe.  I feel weak.  I spent a day or two in bed, or just lazing in front of the TV because even the minimum amount of activity was difficult.  That always makes me feel guilty though, so I pushed myself to work and be mom and wifey again.
Despite the blech that is a respiratory infection, I couldn't resist my favorite Thanksgiving tradition of Black Friday shopping.  The way the stores scheduled all their sales this year created an all night shopping bender.  Oh so much fun!  And I'm not being factitious there!  I actually did great all night. I stayed awake and had fun and even decided to spread some holiday cheer by handing out candy canes to the people waiting in line and reminding them to be nice and not fight over the deals.  (Wow that was one heck of a run-on sentence!)  We got home around 8am.  From then until 3am the next morning, I slept on and off.  Apparently, I need at least 15 hours of sleep to recuperate from a 24 hour bender.  Who knew?  But at 3am I was completely awake.  No use trying to sleep then.  And sleep and I are such good friends.  I felt bad neglecting it so!
Just after I finally got my sleep schedule back to normal, I got a horrible stomach bug that had me throwing up all night on Tuesday to Wednesday.  In turn, I slept all day on Wednesday.  And so the cycle begins once again.
If you know me, you know my favorite thing to do is nap.  If you know me, you know that I cannot function on less than 8 hours of sleep unless mass quantities of caffeine are involved and even then, I'm not the most pleasant person in the world.  If you know me, you know that if sleep and I are arguing and on the outs, I'm not myself.  
Oh sleep, dear sleep, I'm so sorry for neglecting you lately.  Can we be friends again?
STOP

Five Minute Friday: Grow

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.

Today's Word:  Grow
GO
I have to admit two things before I go on to "Grow".  1)  I check out Five Minute Friday's word and then think about it for a little while before I write.  2) I almost always go over 5 minutes.  The thing is that I just write as long as I feel I should give to the prompt.  Or to get my thoughts out of my head.
This prompt threw a bunch of ideas my way.  Grow from a child to an adult.  Grow in my knowledge.  Grow as a family.  Grow up.  Grow in my career.  Grow tired of the present.  I let it swirl around in my head too long today.  Now I don't know which to write about.
Instead of going "deep" into these thoughts today, I'm going to talk about my son Tyson and his growth.
August 23, 2006, Tyson and his twin Cooper were born at 27 weeks gestation.  Although Cooper was a whopping 3lb and 14 inches, Tyson was 1lb 6.8oz and 11 inches.  The same length as my size 8 shoe.  His eyes were still fused shut, his skin was paper thin.  The smallest diapers, the ones for the micro preemies, were too big for him.
Two months passed and Cooper was strong enough to go home for the first time.  Tyson struggled though.  His lungs were too weak and needed help, but the ventilator used to keep him alive broke blood vessels in his one inch lungs.  We watched him struggle to live. I  remember telling him several times it was alright if he wanted to go with God.  I told him that he didn't have to stay just for me, that if he needed to, he could give up.  He didn't listen.
Tyson was in the hospital a total of 8 months before coming home for good.  During this time, we were told he was going to die on more than one occasion, he had respiratory arrest more times than I could count on one hand, we were told he would be on a ventilator his entire life, we were told he would never be strong enough to sit let alone walk or play.  In fact, the first time they brought up a tracheotomy, our family had decided with the help of the doctors that his quality of life would be so little that we didn't want to prolong anything.  We just wanted to take him home and hold him until he passed on to the next world.
At 6 months, Tyson was trached and placed on a ventilator.  We had said "no" to begin with, but one of the doctors came to us to talk about our final decision and talked to us as a father, not a doctor.  He said that Tyson had this fight in him that he had never seen, that he should have not made it many many times before.  He said for some reason, he felt that Ty would want this chance.
We went home in April of 2007.  We went home to a private nursing staff, an office made into a hospital room, countless bins and containers containing medical supplies, ventilators, supplement  oxygen, a wheel chair, and much more.  I never wanted this, but I watched as Ty began to smile, to play with his toys in his crib, to interact with his siblings.  I watched as every person he met saw the light in him and couldn't help but be inspired.  
Slowly but surely, Tyson began doing what they said he never would.  His first word was his own name.  "Ty Ty" he would say as he looked in the mirror and pointed giggling with delight that his first friend was smiling back at him.  He'd get all his tubes and wires wrapped up around himself from rolling and creeping.  He loved sitting with his arms over the rails of his bed kicking his feet and testing his balance.  He sat for the first time unassisted at 18 months.  He crawled just shy of his second birthday.  He took his first steps just before Christmas at 2 and a half.  He started kindergarten this year.  He played flag football and scored his touchdown (even though the other team let him do it to see the enthusiastic and proud smile on his face).
Tyson's lungs grew and healed.  He weaned from the ventilator.  He stopped getting sick every few weeks.  He became energetic.  Certain medications were no longer needed.  Eventually, the trach seemed useless and doctors agreed to downsize in hopes of decannulation (permanent removal of the tube).  
4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks and 6 days ago, Tyson was given a tracheotomy tube and placed on a ventilator to save his life.  4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days ago, we were told it was possible that these new additional appliances to our baby could be permanent.  4 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days ago, we never thought we would have a walking, talking, crazy, oppositional, energetic, fun, enjoyable, defiant, happy, HEALTHY Tyson.
In 3 days, Tyson is going in to the hospital for decannulation.  My little size-8-shoe-baby is now 3 feet tall and 37lbs.  His little one inch broken lungs are "betta" as he would say.  And now he has the chance to live like a normal child for once.  What amazing growth he has made so far will now be multiplied exponentially.  
And most of all, anyone who has ever heard of Tyson Zachariah Sawyer has grown to believe the unbelievable.

Five Minute Friday: Relevant

For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.

GO:
I'm not going to lie, I had to look up the meaning of this word in order to write about it.  I know what it means, I know how to use the word, but I needed more to tell me how to write about it.

rel·e·vant

 [rel-uh-vuhnt]

adjective

bearing upon or connected with the matter in hand; pertinent: a relevant remark.

How do write about relevancy when the actual topic is "relevant"?  Hmmm...toughy....

The first thing that popped into my mind was how I almost always do more than one thing at once and quite often my conversations reflect that.  I can never stay on topic because as I'm speaking to someone, and then they are in turn speaking to me, I'm thinking of the next thing I want to say.  Definitely something I would like to work on.  

The problem is that when I'm talking to someone, I kind of figure out what they are going to say within the first few seconds of the conversations and then get bored.  That sounds so rude of me...  

What to do with this admitted information?  I'm going to work hard to stay mindful in conversations now.  I'm going to listen to what the other person is saying and not let my mind go off on a tangent.  I'm going to stick to the topic.  This will be difficult because even as I sit here writing this, I'm thinking of three other things I have to do before 10am....I'm up for the challenge!

STOP

Five Minute Friday: Beyond

Let's try something new today!  I was telling my good friend Mel that I love writing and I'm sitting here staring at my blog with no topic but wanting to write.  She told me about one of her friends who does this.  So I think I'm going to give it a go!  Here are the rules:

Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.

Beyond:

Beyond....limits, boundaries, comfort zones....beyond expectations, knowing....beyond abilities....

I've been feeling like I'm drowning lately.  Too much to do, too much going on, too many kids to take care of, just too much...  I put too much on my plate and it's beyond what I feel I can do.  So I hide.  It's become a normal occurrence in the last week or two for me to go to bed for 2-3 hours in the afternoon.  That's beyond acceptable.

It can't be beyond my abilities, right?  I wouldn't do stuff I couldn't do.  So I can do this.

I say "I can't" quite a bit.  It's more "I don't want to" if I'm being completely truthful.  It's beyond what I want to do.  Or rather it's beyond what a feel like doing.  Retreating to my cozy bed is so much easier than going beyond what I'm already doing.  That's sad now that I've said that outloud.

Beyond limits...  

Onward...

Into the beyond....  One of my very good friends lost her bestfriend in a car accident a year ago Wednesday.  I had never met this young lady.  But I think I cried as hard as my friend did this week.  I don't think I've ever felt so empathetic for one of my friends before. I knew she was hurting so badly this week remembering her loss.  I felt so useless.  It was beyond what I could do.  I feel helpless when my love doesn't fix something/someone else.  I know that's beyond my abilities, but still.

STOP