Personal Life - This Little Light

January 14, 2021

Goodbye to Merlin (Merman, Schmermles, Myrtle, Schmermilator) and I love you

**Merlin on a short hike at Island Park in Mount Pleasant, MI**

I never in my life thought about owning a Saint Bernard. They just weren’t on my radar, just like Michigan was never there for me to live.

**Getting to be an old man in Virginia**

One day, while working at my first job in South Carolina, a local dairy farmer brought in a new born puppy. She owned a dairy and had a very small Saint Bernard breeding kennel on the side. Her bitch had just whelped and had killed all but two of the puppies and had mangled one of those puppies’ back legs. At first, it appeared as just a puncture on the out side of the hind leg. We cleaned it and sent home antibiotics.

The next day, the farmer brought the puppy back in. The leg wound was now bigger, draining pus, and the foot was stiff and cold. We gave the puppy a guarded to poor prognosis with infection set in and a dead leg in a newborn, frail baby. The farmer, with all of her responsibilities as a dairy woman, did not have the time to dedicate to this sickly puppy. She decided it would be best for him to euthanize as he was not getting better.

I looked down at this beautiful, perfect except for a mangled rear leg, and could not picture myself sticking his tiny heart with a needle and then tossing him in the freezer where we kept dead animals. Now, at this point, I was just exiting my first trimester of my very first pregnancy (with India). We had just moved to this town, not 5 months ago, we were renting, and already had 2 dogs, 2 cats, and 2 horses. I was absolutely not in the right place to even think about taking on a new dog, let alone one that would need intensive care for 5 weeks and would grow to over 100lb. I talked it over with my best friend working there with me, Kim, and she encouraged me to take on this (currently) 1lb project.

I talked to the farmer about surrendering him and letting us try to amputate the leg and save him. She was in tears. She was a tough woman, running a dairy farm, but she had a fantastic heart. She was so upset that she was going to put him to sleep, but was thankful that we would at least give him a chance. I had him signed over and was now the owner of a very sickly infant St. Bernard. What had I done? What was Tony going to say when I came home? I knew he would understand. He knows who he married, but he would likely shake his head a little.

I brought him home, honestly under the impression that even if he survived to, and then through surgery, that he would likely die sometime after from infection, or fading puppy syndrome. I had 0-0.5 hope of his survival (#naturalpessimist), but I had to try.

The next day, we were to do the surgery. I had to meet my boss at a dairy to continue to learn how to efficiently palpate cattle for pregnancy. I went over and over the surgery in my head. Finally, we were done palpating cows and I would drive to the clinic to cut on this three day old puppy. We put him under with just some valium and then masked with gas. There were three people gathered around this 1 lb patient. Kim, our assistant, the other Dr. at the clinic running/monitoring anesthesia, and me, carving on what felt like a chicken wing from KFC. I dissected down to the femur, at some point severing the femoral artery that was so small, it never bled. I used a heavy pair of surgical scissors called Mayo scissors to score a shallow cut around the bone, like a glass cutter, then the bone broke easily in half.

**8 weeks and type of bottle we had used to feed him, but this particular bottle was for a baby goat**

I, then filed the end of the bone so it wouldn’t be rough on the muscles, closed the muscles around the tip of the bone, and finally, closed the skin over the muscle. Whew! We were done! We took him off of gas, and put him on oxygen only and waited for him to wake up. And we waited. And waited. He wasn’t waking up. That’s it, I knew this was stupid, but at least we tried, right? Then, the doctor helping me got some injectable dextrose and just put a couple of drops in his mouth. He woke up! Thankfully, she was able to keep her calm and remembered that neonatal patients will get hypoglycemic under anesthesia.

We took the puppy home, now named “Doomed puppy” because of my pessimism and superstition all rolled into one. We had to bottle feed him. The little bottle that came with the formula had a nipple that was way too small for his mouth. We ended up having to get a soda bottle and put the smallest goat nipple we could find on it. We also had to stimulate him to pee and poop until he was a certain age. He slept in a cardboard box on a heating pad in our bathroom for the first few days of his life and came with me everyday to work. We had to set alarms to get up every few hours to feed him.

One weekend we were travelling back to Georgia to announce my pregnancy to the families. We would take our dogs with us when we travelled and had the two big dogs in the backseat with the box of puppy in the back as well. He was about 2lbs at this point. Along the way, we stopped at Subway to get dinner but didn’t want to leave the puppy in the car alone with the two dog aggressive dogs, so I picked him up and placed him in an inside pocket in my coat and carried him inside. The workers there never knew I had a Saint Bernard in my coat pocket.

Eventually, we settled on a name “Merlin” and he continued to live in our bathroom, he particularly loved the bath tub. Every night, when it was bed time, he would just shuffle into the bathroom and lop himself into the bathtub to sleep. Having only had three legs his whole life, we always just figured that he would have no trouble learning to walk with three legs. Just like four-legged dogs who get an amputation later in life seem to do just fine, and to “not miss a step,” we thought that he would have even less trouble learning the ways. We were wrong.

Having basically been born with just the three legs and having never learned to walk properly, he would just scramble. He would pull his body along with his front legs and kind of paddle with his one hind leg. Thanks to the advice from my friend, Kim, we sought a Veterinary specialist in rehabilitation in Columbia, SC. She was able to make some chiropractic adjustments, and fit him for a cart for us to borrow. He hated that cart. We would harness him up and he would freak out and run around the room, getting caught on furniture and knocking over everything. We were finally able to harness him up and take him on walks in the neighborhood. It took a lot of practice, and he grew quickly and eventually had to return the cart, but by then, he had learned better how to get up on that back leg.

**1 year – India also pictured at 9 months**

He eventually got along on that back leg like it was nothing. We couldn’t take him on long hikes and I could only take him on a 1 mile “warm up walk” before my run so that he got to feel like he was part of the pack too, but he also loved to play tug-of-war – which is typically not recommended for pets because it can make them think everything is a game when you’re trying to take things from them – but this was his main method of exercising, and I could just tell him to drop it and it was over.

He loved vegetables, fruit, tissues, and baby socks. He would wait in the kitchen while I cooked, waiting eagerly for kale stems, carrot ends, strawberry leaves; would follow the kids around or sit next to me while strings of drool hung at his lips if we dared to eat an apple around him. He EXPECTED the core. He would run outside and help the horses eat watermelon rinds or try to find the scattered sweet potato skins I had just thrown out for the deer. If you left a paper towel or tissue within reach, he would stalk it because he knew he would get into trouble for eating it and the moment we weren’t paying attention, he would suck that thing down like it was a piece of cotton candy. Even when the kids were babies and we were in a complete state of chaos, if we forgot to close the baby wipes when we were done, you would catch him sucking each one down as it pulled up the next – like his own tissue Pez dispenser. His love of baby/kids socks got him in trouble too. We would constantly have to go out and buy more to make up for his dietary needs. Our kids were so trained not to leave their socks on the floor downstairs that if we went and visited another person’s house, our kids would come up to us and ask us where they could safely put their socks. Between the tissue diet and socks he consumed, once spring rolled around and we mowed the lawn for the first time the mower would spray our yard with confetti of tissue pieces and colorful sock remnants.

As Merlin got older, he would go through phases where he couldn’t walk as well anymore. Most of the time, he responded to pain medication, time, or a chiropractor adjustment. I took an x-ray of his hips to see the horror that I was afraid of. His only hind leg he had was suffering from horrible hip dysplasia. I knew, even though we were very diligent about keeping his weight down, at 120lb, it was still only a matter of time before he completely tore his cruciate ligaments in his only knee and then it would be done. He was definitely MY dog. Tony would tell me that if I wasn’t home, Merlin would just lay in the corner of the dining room all day, not moving even to go outside. He did NOT appreciate the kids and as he got older, he only became more cranky with them, especially when they got crazy silly.

**The circled joint is supposed to be a ball and socket joint – you see no ball or socket**

This past fall, he started having trouble walking again. We knew, at almost 9 years old, anytime could be his last. He was no longer getting up on his back leg anymore and would just scramble along the wooden floors. We would assist him outside and, at first, he would get up on the leg to go to the bathroom. We had him on three different pain medications, joint supplements he had been on his whole life plus a few more, got him some fancy Dr. Buzby’s toe grips, a Help ’em up harness, but still he dragged that stump around. Eventually, he stopped eating as much and the stump became raw and bloody. We had smears of bloody trails across our floors where he had needed to be with me. I altered his harness to pad the stump, but it wouldn’t stay where it needed to. I brought home an “After surgery wear” from work and altered that to pad his stump. That seemed to work better.

I had been avoiding it. I was in denial. When he would use every last bit of energy in his painful body to get to where ever I was in the house, I just knew he depended on me, how could I let him down? But finally, I stayed outside to watch him go to the bathroom, because now he was soaking his after-surgery wear every time he peed. To my horror, and with tears running down my face, I saw him drag himself to a spot and just sit and pee all over himself. Then, he dragged himself to another spot and pooped while sitting, only swinging his rear away to keep the poop from sticking to him. I knew it was time.

The final day, he was so excited to get to go in the car with us, as that was a rare occurrence for him. We were feeding him Milkbones like he was starving and he just thought that was the best. My mother even met us at the clinic and brought him a porkchop wrapped in a paper towel. He chomped that down too, paper towel and all. He was just having the best day! Of course, it took me and Tony to get him out of the car and into the clinic to our euthanasia room. He required a sling to hold his hind end up. But he just dragged us in, found the few people working after-hours, his tail just flagging like the happiest pup. We finally got him to the euth room and he stumbled and collapsed on the floor. Tired, from all his happiness. I gave him the sedation, then cuddled his giant bear head in my lap as the final injection was given. He was only 3 days old when I decided it wasn’t his time to go to the freezer and even though I had given him 3,200 more days of pure love, it still felt like I had abandoned him as we gently lowered his body, finally, into the freezer.

**My last picture with my Mer-man – he looks so tired**

Bye buddy.

December 13, 2020

Covid for Christmas

We made a heart breaking decision last night to cancel our plans to visit family in Georgia for Christmas. It wasn’t responsible in the first place, but then with numbers surging recently, COVID-19 being the number one killer in the US a couple of weeks ago – even over the long-reigning heart disease, some Georgia hospitals being at 97% capacity with some having to bring in refrigerated trucks to hold the dead bodies, and with increasing numbers of people here in Virginia testing positive that are getting too close to home, we knew that it was beyond irresponsible to travel. Down right reckless. I knew, deep down, that even though this decision would break the hearts of young cousins who haven’t seen each other in over a year, and may even anger some family members, that it was the right thing to do. I mean, it would be like hosting a party for unvaccinated puppies at a public dog park in the middle of a parvo outbreak.

You may be thinking “what does a veterinarian know about this human disease?” The answer is “Not much”. BUT, I understand outbreaks and highly infectious diseases and how to manage them and keep them under control. In small animal, I have dealt outbreaks when anti-vaxxer breeding kennels broke out with parvo as well as the not uncommon kennel cough outbreaks when people take their dogs to groomers, dog parks, kennels, etc. As a large animal veterinarian, we don’t even wait for outbreaks to occur to start with careful preventative practices such as isolation of dairy calves so they cannot touch each other, quarantine of new animals to the herd, health checks before shipping animals to a new herd, isolation pens for the sick animals, and the obvious vaccinations.

**At work, enjoying a tiny, wrinkly perk**

Honestly, thinking like a large animal herd health veterinarian, the idea that people all mixed together all the time and all over the world without protective protocols before this outbreak is kind of mind boggling. Masks should have been instituted long ago for anyone with the sniffles. Temperature checks should be common when intermingling groups of people. These are all very common ideas in the animal/herd health world that we just take for granted in the human world. And, no, your immune system does not get weak by not being exposed to highly infectious things. It maintains its memory – literally in your bones (marrow). You wouldn’t lick a toilet seat splattered with diarrhea to help your e-coli or salmonella immunity, would you? Some dirt good, some will kill you dead.

When COVID was fresh in the US, there was much discussion on my vet moms’ group because veterinarians have been dealing with a coronavirus for decades with no good answers. There is a feline coronavirus that is very common in the cat population and causes a transient (goes away quickly) diarrhea for most cats, but for some cats, it can change the way the immune system reacts to it and can cause a horrible death months to, even, years later and there’s not way to test to see which individuals will react this way. COVID-19, even though it is the same type of virus as FIP, is a respiratory virus whereas FIP is intestinal. They, very well, may not have the same long term threats, but COVID has only been around 10 months. It may take another year to determine if there will be any long term effects. Unfortunately, there is no effective vaccination for the feline form. We are hoping that with the increased money and interest invested in saving our human families, that this vaccine will be much more effective.

**It really is hard to get both children and animals to be still enough to get a decent photo**

Long story short, if we can prevent spread of the disease, it would be smart, careful, it would be showing love for our fellow man. The death toll in the US is currently at 1.8% – seems low, but as my brother, who works at a cement company, pointed out – if everyone at his plant got infected, they would lose 4 people. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but if you had to look those 4 people in the eye before they died and say “well, it’s only a small percentage”, would you be okay with it? If you knew that only the people over 55 were the ones that would die, would that make it better? I mean, they’re too old to enjoy life anyway, right?

I could go on and on. Please comment with more questions. On to the point!

So, we begrudgingly announced to the kids that we would not be going to Georgia for Christmas. They were shocked, their little faces, fallen with mouths agape. Then, like little Cindy Loo Who, India muttered “but why?” When we explained to them about how terrible COVID was getting, they had lots of questions about the virus and the masks they’d been wearing. We explained how many people are dying of COVID. We explained that masks help, but are not 100% and that masks are for protecting other people and not ourselves – giving them the respiratory droplet explanation. She asked if some people were not able to wear the masks – we answered that a very small minority of people physically or medically cannot wear them, but that was even more of a reason for those of us who can to wear them, to protect others.

Then, India, my 8 year-old little girl asked me the hardest question yet: “Why don’t some people not want to wear masks?”

Was I supposed to explain the “sheeple shaming”?

Was I supposed to explain the greater fear people have of appearing to follow the crowd or somehow being controlled by the scheming government than that of killing strangers with their irresponsibility and selfishness?

How could I explain to a loving child who is always worried about how other people are feeling or doing that some people just don’t consider their own actions and the repercussions they could have? Those who don’t look past their front door for people to care about? All while teaching her the ways of Jesus?

So, I just took a few moments, trying to gather just the right way to explain it to her and finally said;

“Baby, I don’t know”

November 29, 2020

The 2020 Thomas Family Christmas Tree

I made the decision to go Christmas tree shopping this past weekend. I love Christmas, but I am willing to respect Thanksgiving as a holiday – mostly to eat dressing and macaroni and cheese. Getting a Christmas tree just two days after Thanksgiving would easily be the earliest I have ever had a Christmas tree. My mother’s birthday is mid-December and we never liked to override her birthday with Christmas, so when we were young, we would always wait until after her birthday to get a tree. Slowly, I had wiggled my way back to this day. It was going to be a perfect day! Beautiful Virginia mountains, 55 degrees F, sunny. We couldn’t wait!

**The kids are pretending to be reindeer**

Saturday morning came! I had to work at the clinic that morning, but I was just going to grit my teeth and bare it. Working Saturdays at a vet clinic is, at best, a crap shoot. Some people can only make appointments for Saturdays due to work schedules, some wait until the fear that they will have to watch their pet suffer a 42nd day in misery if they have to wait until Monday. At this clinic, I am the only doctor working and end up being scheduled to see a patient every 15 minutes – some easy vaccine boosters, some very sick, requiring extra time and care.

This particular morning, I was swamped. Sick animals everywhere, a very sad euthanasia, and a couple of headache inducing clients. At the end of the morning, ten minutes to the finish line, when the final client called and demanded her dog be seen for a broken toe nail despite our assuring her this is an issue that could be addressed at home – I mean, would you go to urgent care for a toe nail you cut too short? So, yes, we charged an emergency fee – hoping it would keep her away, but instead she spent 10 minutes griping about the price and brought the dog anyway, complaining that it wouldn’t take very long and it shouldn’t cost that much. Looking around, everyone in the clinic was super busy giving fluids to a sick cat, taking x-rays of a limping dog, cleaning, talking to clients in the cars (because curbside), and answering phones. I still had to write up all the records for the glob of cases I saw, make sure everyone was called back who had pressing questions or were waiting on lab work, make sure prescriptions were faxed out to the appropriate pharmacies. So, that, ma’am is why the extra charge.

**A better day when puppies were actually involved – yes, that’s a young puppy**

Now, in my delightfully good mood, I will go Christmas tree shopping!

I finally arrive home, in such festive spirits that, after scarfing Thanksgiving leftovers, I sink down on the couch and contemplate whether today is, in fact, a good day to get a Christmas tree. Tony feeds into my foul mood by suggesting we wait until tomorrow. I consider the full out triple sized tantrum that would ensue if the kids found out we were not going that day and finally decide to get on with it.

**Picture of our fate I saw in my head if we said no Christmas tree today**

We load everyone into the most neglected vehicle we own – “the truck” – the heat doesn’t work, it’s been rained in, the interior is likely rotted, the check engine light is ALWAYS on, but it does the work no other vehicle can do, so we haven’t scrapped it yet. On the way to the farm, we tune into a Christmas music station and the kids all join together in singing that classic yule-time favorite “A-B-C-D…” followed by Calvin screaming “NO! OSCAR!! It’s my turn!!! ABCDE…” then, all the kids joining in a harmonious fight to scream their ABCs the loudest while yelling and hitting their siblings that’s it’s their turn.

Finally, we get “the truck” to the highway where the shuddering of the vehicle in unison with the reverberations of the busted speakers finally silenced the kids into a fearful submission as I try to ignore the angry drivers passing feverishly since I would not go above 60 in a 70mph zone. We, then, get to peacefully listen to actual Christmas music and Oscar shushes everyone when “Frosty the Snowman” comes on and then we make it to the tree farm.

Pulling into the farm, we see it is PACKED! Everyone was walking around, dressed in their holiday best; sweaters, vests, and boots, when my kids jump out of the truck in short sleeves with India taking it a step farther with a flimsy cotton pink skort – Michigan raised kids, amirite? The kids all rushed to grab the deer carcass sleds they let you use to carry your slain tree, they argue incessantly over who gets to pull the thing, then Calvin decides he’ll just sit in the sled, which greatly upsets the other two as you cannot as easily sprint carelessly, demolishing all the baby trees when you have to actually try.

India sings to every tree that it is “the one” and we finally decide on one after, much unlike his choosing a life partner, Tony decides he needs to see every single tree before we settle down. We find a cute one to settle on – it’s not the tallest one we’ve ever gotten, but it’s full, green, and cute. Tony starts with the cutting down after we all have professed that this is “the one”. He gets a few saw strokes into it when I decide to help him out by pressing the tree away from the saw to open up the “incision”. At this very moment, I realize that this is the first any of us have actually touched the tree above the trunk. At this moment, it dawns on me that we have not chosen a tree, but a cactus. I CAN. NOT. TOUCH. IT. Tony asks if he should stop cutting, but we had already damaged the tree, it just was ours now. I picked up the sled to push it and we get it cut down. Tony, wearing work gloves, gets stabbed several times through the gloves to get it loaded on the sled and we consider donating this tree and getting another. “No,” I said, “it just fits with 2020 at this point.”

We get it trimmed and loaded and drive home, welts slowly growing all over Tony’s hands and arms, he is dousing his hands in hand sanitizer to help relieve the itch. India’s allergies and asthma is being triggered, likely by the mold in the interior of “the truck”. And so, we arrive home with the precious cactus, contemplating whether or not to just drag it up and down the gravel driveway until it softens.

Decorating of the tree goes much more smoothly than it could have with a destructive 3 yr. old, only 2-3 ornaments were broken, but that’s why I had my trusty hot glue gun plugged in and ready to go. Oscar ran around the ENTIRE time, hopping on one leg, around the tree, jumping over the strand of lights plugged into the wall, all to simulate being his tyrannosaurus ornament who had lost a leg. We finished adorning the tree with all the favorites, including homemade Pokémon cut-outs, a George Harrison action figure, and a Halloween dragon skeleton. Soon Calvin also joined Oscar in skipping, and then India, and we finished the day with skipping races across the living room.

Here’s to your Christmas/Holiday season!

November 12, 2020November 12, 2020

Head Games – You’re not broken

Dear my doctor, Human Doctor, HD

I really appreciate your devotion to figuring out my health – both physical and mental – and your taking the time to really listen to me and address my biggest concerns – “no, it’s probably not a brain tumor haha!” – even though I had already taken out an extra life insurance policy. I was even excited when you told me that you didn’t think I was on the right medication for my mental struggles and that you were optimistic that switching to a different medication would better address my issues of anxiety (perhaps a reason for the additional life insurance reaction to my headaches?). We planned to wean down the dose of my medication slowly – you know, so I didn’t die – and it would take about 3-4 weeks to get it out of my system before we could start with the new one. I walked out of the clinic enthusiastic that my perspective on life would be a little sunnier in the future.

**Oscar in Michigan – he LOVED the snow!**

Then, slowly, as my day went on, I began to realize at what point my body would be completely devoid of medication to stabilize my emotions… Election week. Good timing, HD.

My anxiety started with the birth of my second child in 2014 and has only continued to get worse through the third child and then the turmoil between friends and family over politics despite counselling, exercise, good diet. I used to picture me, dropping Oscar as an infant and then just vividly picturing his busting his head open, vividly feeling the emotions that would come with it. Picturing our trip to the hospital and how I would feel at his funeral. This extended to Tony, picturing him falling from the barn when he was feeding the animals and dying – continue with long emotional “daydreaming”.

**Fantastic weekend camping on North Manitou island**, MI

The worst was once, when I was nursing Calvin in the recliner in our home, should have been a beautiful moment between a mother and her infant in the early hours of the morning, everything was quiet and I was just loving his tiny, soft, warm body against mine when the nightmare entered my mind. I imagined how it would feel if I were living as a Jewish person in the Holocaust and was trying to hide with this baby when the Nazis were looking for people and shooting all they found hiding. What if Calvin was crying and I couldn’t get him to stop?? The long drives I would be on for farm calls would just add fuel to the fire as I was alone with my thoughts for 1.5 hours at a time.

I have grown up absolutely convinced that if I tried hard enough, used my attuned introspection and was honest with myself, that I could get to the root of the problem and address it. I also believed that I just needed to get enough exercise, eat right, and generally take care of myself and I wouldn’t need medication. I, admittedly, thought that people on medication for their mental issues were just not trying hard enough.

**My Halloween costume one year when I went as Cat Woman**

Eventually, though, despite my being able to look at my life from the outside and think “I’ve actually got it pretty good – loving husband, three healthy children, financial stability” the dark, suicidal thoughts slowly started to creep in.

Karma, am I right?

Finally, I sought out a therapist who helped me immensely, but eventually, I still required medication. I fought and fought her and myself with the idea of starting medication. I thought it was practically giving up. Rolling over, becoming lazy, and needing a crutch. I also was afraid that it would change my personality. But it didn’t. Through all of my guilt at being on this medication which increased serotonin (hormone that makes you feel right with the world) levels in my brain that was just not producing enough on it’s own, I complained to my vet mom’s group as we sometimes vent to each other, and someone commented something that changed my whole outlook on this issue.

She said, “Medication for depression/anxiety is no different than a diabetic who needs insulin to survive. A diabetic’s body just doesn’t make enough of the insulin hormone and we just don’t make enough of the serotonin. You wouldn’t judge a diabetic for using insulin because they just weren’t ‘trying hard enough'”

Sometimes, though, the medication you are put on is not quite the right one for you. So, after 3 years of being on Prozac, I’m now clean… and absolutely miserable. I cannot wait to start my new medication this weekend. This past 2 weeks has been absolute torture on my body – mentally and physically. I’m having to take the rescue anti-anxiety medication my HD prescribed on a nightly basis (don’t worry, it’s just an antihistamine). Last night, I felt like my chest was caving in, every single sudden or loud sound made me angry. I wanted to yell, I wanted to cry – for no reason. I just wanted to curl up in a ball, but was too restless for that.

**India – toddler’s reaction to asking her to smile for a picture**

So, Sunday, I start a new medication – Lexapro. Truly, I am very grateful for my doctor’s efforts. I’m sure he didn’t plan to switch my medication during this turmoil. And he couldn’t possibly know that this would also be the time that my sweet Merlin and my oldest cat, Delphi would be starting to go down hill and euthanasia would be on the table for both. I’m sure he was just excited to get me on a better medication to make me feel like a more normal person. And for that, I’ll forgive his timing =)

Please, if you even think you may need help, seek it out. Even just a therapist – even if only on Zoom or whatever – you’re not broken. People don’t talk about their issues because they are afraid of how others will see them. You could have, literally, everything going for you and can still have a hormone deficiency that causes you to think negative thoughts and even hate yourself. Don’t even start with that “back in the day” crap either – back in the day, no one talked about it, instead, they just drank themselves into oblivion, became abusive to their families, or got institutionalized.

**Me and my in-laws (Tony’s sister and her husband)**

We are a very intelligent species and are, therefore, more prone to thinking. Thinking can be great when it is aimed in the right direction, but can also be downright dangerous if it veers in the wrong direction. Therapists and medication can keep your thoughts on track. Hormones are ridiculously influential things. Don’t think you can outsmart them.

Seek help!

October 26, 2020

Not Another Political Post

I was inspired by the sermons my preacher was giving over the past 4 weeks and thought maybe I could pass the message along to you guys.

This election season has been tumultuous to say the least. Friends and families have been broken up by what color they have decided to vote. I am guilty of alienating people simply based on how I THINK they will vote and, therefore, judging their entire character and deciding how they feel about everything based on one comment they make. It has gotten ugly. At one point, after hearing the sermons online (cause COVID), I thought about all the people I know that I am friends with in real life, not just electronically – people that I work with everyday or interact with, people who are family members. On one shoulder, I was judging them and thinking “how can they think this way?!” thinking that they were a lost cause and deep down inside, wondering if I should even be associating with them. But on the other, much more obvious shoulder, I was thinking “but I really like this person in EVERY OTHER WAY! Our everyday interactions are always fun, light hearted, and pleasant, they are a hard worker and have never given me flack about doing their job or helping out. I even look forward to being with this person” So, how can two shoulders on the same body be so opposed without needing serious chiropractic intervention?

One metaphor I like to think about when I’m frustrated and confused at how many different beliefs there are and why everyone doesn’t see the world like I do is to picture a Monet painting or think of all the microscopic pixels in a beautiful picture. If all the paint dots or pixels looked just like mine, the picture would just be one flat, solid color (maybe semi-gloss cuz I’m pretty interesting). The world would not work if everyone had the same ideas. Tony and I joke sometimes that if everyone was like him, we would all still be living in caves and hunting/gathering because “it works so why change?” – there would be no inventions or searches for better ways of medicine or technology. We would all die from childbirth or a puncture wound. It takes view points from every angle and dimension to make the picture that is our world. Everyone’s tiny pixel of light adds to the depth and meaning of the world.

So the message that my preacher was talking about was that no matter how we vote, we are all still the same people, the same body of Christ (or humanity if Christianity isn’t your thing). We still have to love each other as we love ourselves. Everyone has their own set of experiences that make them who they are and how they think. The worst way to help someone see a better way is to tell them they’re wrong. Nothing makes people dig in their heels and throw you like being told they are wrong or stupid, or blind, or naïve. We CAN get past how someone else may have voted and still love each other. As the preacher said (though he did a magnificent job of not eluding to which way he was going to vote), after the election is over and everything is settled back down, we still have to love those who we disagree with and maybe try to show them the light.

**View interpreted by no less than 5 perspectives**

Maintaining relationships is the best way to share ideas and change as a person. Cutting someone off just because you have put them into an imaginary box that categorizes everything they believe based on how you want to think about them will never help to coax them into a “better” way (just in case your way is, in fact, better). I feel like there are so many good ideas on both sides, but political parties do not come a la carte. They are like basic cable – you like one channel, but get stuck with all the other crap that comes along with it. We are an intelligent species with a 4D spectrum of life experiences and ideas. How on earth do we only have two (real – sorry third party – love you!!) choices every time? Why can we not pick a group of intelligent, non-bribed people to sit around and have intelligent conversations to figure things out? This is SO frustrating to me!

Here are some suggestions on talking to people or posting on social media to help you grow as a person and help others to see a different perspective:

DO: “I believe that this issue could be handled like this – 2-3 well thought out and *researched* points to follow up for why.”
NOT: “Anyone who thinks this other idea is a good idea is either blind, completely naïve, or just an idiot!!”
DO: “I am honestly confused as to why people would think this is the best way, please, with open ears, I want to hear your thoughts.”
1. Then, read/listen to their thoughts (hopefully not just emotionally spewing rhetoric they heard some lunatic saying).
2. Say thank you.
3. STOP
4. Think about their answers, try to see it from their side, from their experiences, try to imaging what has caused them to feel this way. Is it fear? retaliation for a wrong doing? Lack of understanding of another person’s situation? Fairy tale brain (guilty)? Evil demonic possession?
5. ONLY respond when you have let any emotion wash off of you and have had time to consider their side.
6. TRY TRY TRY to never argue with emotion
NOT: I’m posting this article/headline that I haven’t actually stopped to think/research if there is any validity to the sensational message it is implying because when I first read it, it made me mad and it should you too – and if not, you’re STUPID!!
DO: Think about who all will see/hear this statement before letting it out. You may be thinking of someone in particular when you proclaim a statement, but you are, in fact, addressing everyone who might fit under this large net that you have cast. Think of your sweet Aunt whom you love and would never want to hurt, and how she might feel when she reads your post and wonders why you disapprove of her so.

**If all else fails, just go off the grid**

Pro-tip – if you read something that makes you think “WOW! That’s unbelievable!!” whether good or bad, stop, research a little to find out if it’s true, half true, or just a conspiracy theory manifested by a bored journalist who wasn’t getting much air time.

We are more than the allotted red or blue (or whatever color the third party is), we are every shade in between, specks of this and specks of that and some even have a little glitter added. Depending on our lives, what we’ve experienced and the people we know who have experienced different life events, our view on subject matter will differ extraordinarily and we may just need to stop and think about this before we assume the worst.

September 20, 2020

“Have kids”, they said…

Having children has been a myriad of happiness, frustration, worry, more frustration, and total embarrassment. Sometimes, through all the stress and anxiety of raising young children, you just have to laugh, even if you are also glowing red with embarrassment. One thing I think is important to know about how we have raised our kids for these stories is to know that we do not have any soda (aka Coke for the Georgia folks or pop for the Michiganders) or juices in the house, therefore any cans, bottles, otherwise packaged beverages are either alcohol or milk (the kids mostly drink water).

The Hail Mary

One of the benefits of having multiple children is that at a certain age, you can start to delegate some of your tasks to the older siblings. Sometimes that works and sometimes your son up roots your favorite flowers when you get him to help with weeding the garden. On this particular incident, we were living in Michigan and shopping late at *the best store in the world* “Meijer”. I was by myself with all three kids – ages 6, 4, and 1.5. First, not one person stopped me to tell me how wonderful of a person I was for taking care of my kids like Tony always got when he went to the store with them. Second, I was tired, all three kids were wearing on me. I tried to keep the 4 (Oscar) and 1.5 yo (Calvin) in the buggy with me, but it was getting too full, so I had Oscar feel important by letting him push the cart and tried to convince Calvin that holding onto the side was super fun.

We were almost done shopping when Oscar decided to let go of the cart and start ripping things off the shelves and throwing them in the cart. I went to stop him and Calvin saw his chance. At 18 months, Calvin was already starting to show his true devious self. He took off down the aisle and started across the store. I had no chance to chase him down and keep the peace with Oscar. I felt completely exposed, helpless, frustrated, panicked.. all the emotions. So I delegated. I looked at India and just said “India, go get him”. Like a loyal border collie, she took off across the store, dodging other shoppers, pushing a few over, and when she caught up to Calvin, she took him down. My 6 yo little girl in a sequined tulle skirt body slammed my toddler to the ground right next to an Amish woman and then sat on him until I could get there. The woman just smiled and laughed to herself. India then took Calvin by his arm and dragged him kicking and screaming to the front of the store while we checked out. I just had to laugh and ignore the judging stares.

The Triple Option

My kids attended a Lutheran preschool because of the good reviews it had gotten. They loved that school and were great. One day, they had a dentist come to the school to teach the kids about dental hygiene. When we went to pick India up, she was just as happy and chipper as usual, but her teachers took me to the side for a second. I was used to hearing little stories about how good of an artist she was or how well-behaved and helpful she had been to the class. But this time, they looked a little more concerned. They took me away from where any of the other parents could hear and told us about India’s participation in the dentistry talk.

The dentist had been talking about things that are not good for your teeth and had asked the children to participate by going around the room to each say something. They went around the room and children said jewels like “candy” or “sweets” or any other option but what India decided to add. When it came to be her turn, the preacher asked, “so, India, name something that is bad for you teeth” India spurted out “Whiskey is bad for your teeth!!”

And so, we got a talking to.

Another time, we were at a small group meeting with our church and all the kids were running around in the basement having a great time, while the adults discussed the previous sermon and dug deep into questions and scripture to better ourselves. That’s when Oscar comes running upstairs and says “Mommy, I want whiskey!” Tony and I look bewildered and ask what he’s talking about and he just says that all the other kids have whiskey and he wants some too! Cue all the strange looks between us and the owners of the house – Oscar’s whiskey was another man’s Sprite. They haven’t let us live that one down yet.

The bad call(s)

There were many occasions where our kids lack of knowledge about soda made us look really bad. One, Tony was in line to check out at Meijer and had India with him. The woman checking out in front of them was buying two or three cases of diet coke. India turned to her father and very loudly proclaimed “That woman is buying a LOT of BEER!!”

We went to the Clare, MI Irish festival around St. Patrick’s Day and brought the kids to the craft fair to look at all the amazing things people had created. The kids were actually pretty impressed, but Oscar was most impressed with these model pirate ships someone had made out of soda cans. He dragged me up to the guy who had done it to show me his work and says “Mommy, look at all these boats made out of BEER! I bet daddy would like one!”

More recently, I have been having some stomach issues and went out and bought some sparkling water to get the carbonation without the calories or caffeine to help with the nagging nausea (no, I’m not pregnant – just dying – just kidding). I was picking Calvin up from daycare at a Church and happened to be walking out of the building with another mom and her kid. When I opened the door to put Calvin into the car, he saw my Perrier and shouted loud enough for even Jesus to hear “Mommy, are you drinking BEER?! In the CAR!?!”

Personal foul!

Raising children is a confusing task. No manual comes with them to tell you how to prepare them for the world. At one point in India’s life, I think she was 3, she was very big into Rapunzel and wanted hair like hers and just loved long long hair. She wore nothing but pink and frilly skirts. We were checking out at Target and the young woman checking us out had very short hair – like a pixie cut and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. India was staring at her for awhile and finally spurted out “Mommy, is that a boy or a girl!?!” Mortified, my eyes attempted to leave my skull as my blood rushed to my face. This was just at the beginning of public gender identification issues and I was terrified to have to tell her one way or the other. But I apologized and said, “No, India, she’s a girl.” India said “No, mommy, he’s a boy, he has short hair” I tried to explain to the girl that India was very into Rapunzel and her long hair, but the woman did not look amused or understanding. I felt awful.

Illegal use of hands

Raising boys has been fun in it’s own right. Constantly telling them to get their hands out of their pants, and to pee IN the toilet. Just this weekend, I have had to tell one of the boys things like “You can’t hold your penis and a balloon at the same time!” and at dinner “please wipe your hands off on a napkin and not your underwear!”

The worst time, though was when Oscar was 3 and we went with my brother and his girls along with Tony’s family to the St. Louis Zoo. We were meeting my brother there and were standing in the courtyard just as you walk into the gates of the zoo. People were milling about everywhere, looking at maps, deciding where they would go, reading plaques and signs. If you’ve had kids, you know just how fast they can get away from you especially when you have three and there’s only two of you. Well, we were looking for my brother and Tony’s family was trying to decide which animals to go see first when we lost Oscar. Two seconds and he was gone. We looked around wildly and then found him on the side of one of the walkways, pants around his ankles, peeing into the decorative bushes. He was 3 and just starting to master the art of not peeing in his pants and his tiny yellow arch was already going, so we just laughed and pretended not to see him until he was done, then ran over to cover him up. We were absolutely sure we would be asked to leave the zoo, but I guess no one saw us. Or perhaps, if someone did, they understood what it was like to try and raise young, feral humans.

I hope you had some laughs. I have not been terribly inspired to write lately. If you have any suggestions or topics you would like discussed, please comment.

May 3, 2020

Holiday Day – a lost tradition

When Tony and I were in college, we were living far from home (a whopping 2.5 hours from family) and we were talking about how holidays are difficult, trying to get time off and split between families and such. Then, we read a story about a family where the dad was being deployed over seas and so they celebrated all the holidays in one day. This sounded like a really good/fun idea. So, we got down to planning and came up with “Holiday Day” – celebrated on the Second Saturday in September. On this day, we decided to use all of the major (Christian bias) holidays and what they were best known for and mesh them all together in one, long, marathon day of eating, drinking, and general merriment.

So, this is how the day should go – feel free to add a signature drink with each:

1. Wake up to Christmas – everyone gets one gift to open, then you have breakfast of pancakes made with stocking-stuffer candy bits. Drink suggestions: coffee. Start with coffee. And water – you will need it.

2. Mid-morning: Easter egg hunt (adults too – we didn’t have kids when we celebrated) – split into two groups and have each hide the eggs for the other and see who can find all the eggs in the fastest time (save those numbers for later). Drink suggestions: mimosa, sangria

**Easter egg hunt attire – of course. That’s a BB gun that barely shoots 10 feet before the BB rolls to a stop**

3. Lunch: Thanksgiving – Believe me, you aren’t going to want a full meal – there is lots of eating all day. Have turkey sandwiches, some macaroni and cheese, or whatever small version of your typical Thanksgiving meal. Drink suggestions: wine, beer

**Picture from year #2 when the littlest one joined us**

4. Mid afternoon – Olympics (okay, not a holiday, but we were trying to get some events that did not revolve around eating). You can do individual Olympics, ie. party games, timed events, corn hole, etc (they don’t have to require athleticism), or you can split into teams if you have enough participants and do team sports: kickball, softball, volleyball, also non-ball sports that I’m sure are out there. Take the points from all competitions (including the Easter Egg Hunt) to figure out the winner. Drink suggestions: STOP. Hydrate – water, Gatorade, whatever. A day of high food and alcohol consumption without hydration will lead to a very non-holiday day on the second Sunday in September.

5. Dinner: 4th of July (regionally specific) – grill out with hotdogs, hamburgers, or whatever you like to grill. You may get crazy and get some sparklers or something. Drink suggestions: beer – cheap beer that your drunk uncle would have brought for the 4th of July.

**These guys came in second (there were only two teams)**

6. Evening: Halloween: dress as a holiday not represented during the day, then go out on the town for recklessness and merriment. Enjoy all the very confused faces wondering why a group of people are walking around downtown in costume at the beginning of September. This worked really well in Athens, GA where you could find an eclectic mix of people, but we didn’t continue once we moved to much more conservative towns and were fearful of getting arrested…. or shot. Drink suggestions: whatever you want at the bars/pubs.

**Lauren dressed as Arbor Day and Cason as Cinco de Mayo**

7. Last one: Celebrate the end of “Holiday Day” the only way you can; New Year’s Eve and since the first year we did it, we forgot about it until after midnight, now the official New Year’s day for Holiday Day is 12:20am. At this time, the day is over and you may go home – but get a taxi or have a friend take you home. Drink suggestions: water, iced water, hot non-caffeinated tea (hydrate – it’s been a long day)

**Pictured: Cason, as Olympic gold medalist, Rich (Tony’s dad) as silver, and me as bottle tops bronze.**

So, our first official Holiday day was September (second Saturday) 2010. The tradition started off small, just Tony’s sister, Lauren and her husband, Cason, joined us. Lucky for us (not Lauren), she was pregnant at the time and so we had our designated driver. I promise that’s not why we invited them. We started the day with small gifts to each other, made pancakes stuffed with cut up snickers, reese’s cups, etc. We had the egg hunt, boys vs girls, then we made up games to play outside for the Olympics, little bit of dinner and then we headed out to Downtown Athens, GA in our costumes. I was St. Patrick’s day, Tony was boxing day, Lauren was Arbor day, and Cason was Cinco de Mayo. We got some weird looks, but weirdos were not uncommon in Athens, so we went along our way and laughed the whole time.

**Me as St. Patrick’s day (I’m wearing a little green hat) and Tony as Boxing Day**

The second annual Holiday Day was the next year, 2011. This time, we had gained somewhat of a following and Tony’s whole family came, including the littlest one that was with us on the first one, but hidden. We also had a friend from work (an anesthesia tech from the vet school). So, in just one year, we had more than doubled our attendance! We had the normal morning, everyone got one gift, then had a rather competitive Easter egg hunt (everything’s a lot more competitive with Tony’s mom) of girls vs boys.

The olympics was a lot of fun this time with so many people joining us. Tony’s sister, Lauren, came up with a ton of party games such as the one pictured where you have to move a cookie from your forehead to your mouth using only your face muscles. Then, we played team sports such as volleyball and kickball. Finally, after a day of eat, drink, and play, we went out on the town with those of age (and willing to go out in costume) and had another great Halloween celebration on the town… in September.

**Tony as All Saints Day, me as Marti Gras**

We got a lot of attention that year. Maybe because the first year, it was raining, and the second year it was the night after a UGA football game, so there were a lot of people out that night. We got a few cat calls, one person spewing his disdain for The Saints to Tony, who was clearly dressed as All Saints day, but we also got a lot of people interested in the concept and we all grew hoarse explaining the concept to all the people who asked and they all seemed very excited about the idea and promised (in their drunken stupor) to participate the next year.

**Our friend, Sarah as “Talk like a Pirate Day**“

Unfortunately, that was the last Holiday Day that we have celebrated. We moved to the tiny town of Newberry, SC for my next job in September and were, honestly, afraid to be anything but straight collar for fear of being excommunicated. Then, the babies started rolling in (India born the next September), moved to Michigan, had more babies, etc. We are hoping to get it all started again. I’m not sure where we will celebrate Halloween in this town yet. Perhaps some breweries – they have really good ones!

**And best costume goes to: Lauren as President’s Day and Cason as Oktoberfest**!!

April 9, 2020April 9, 2020

Ugh! The dreaded fitness/health post from your Z list celebrity..

So, when I put the question out there for subjects I should write about, someone commented that I should write about how I’ve stayed thin after three kids. So, I guess I’ll write about what I do, knowing that it wouldn’t work for everyone and knowing that I’ve been incredibly lucky with my metabolism/body type/discipline that I’ve been able to maintain a decent BMI throughout my first 36 years of life. Also, understanding that at any moment, all that could change and I could put on 100lbs over a year because of hormones or what not.

********** I am not a human nutritionist. Seek the advice of your physician before trying any of this.

**High school us. Tony looks weird. He was 6’2″ and 155lbs**

So, in the beginning, I was a stick. No shape, just knobby knees and blonde hair. I was 5’8″ and around 130 throughout college. I always made it a point to go for a run at the intramural fields and during the ridiculously hot, humid summer in Athens, GA, I would ride my horse at daybreak for over an hour, then go for a run, then cut the grass or dig in the garden until I got chills and had trouble hearing. I’d go gorge on watermelon and water until my ears cleared up again. Then, vet school hit. Let me tell you something about vet school, you don’t move much. You sit in a classroom for 8 straight hours, then go directly home to study until midnight (because I believe in getting sleep to retain information), the only thing keeping your eyes open and brain somewhat working was constantly drinking or munching on something. This allowed me to gain a good 20 lb.

I was always in denial about my weight gain. I exercised – running 5-10 miles or biking 30 miles a day, I cut out all fat and ate TONS of fiber, I still couldn’t get it off. I have NEVER in my life had an issue, so I chalked it up to muscle and so forth. Then, I got pregnant with India and when I had gained another 25 lbs, my doctor said something to me about being overweight and I was shocked. I denied it at first and made him back track some, but later, after India was born and I lost all that weight and more, I was finally able to admit that I was probably overweight and needed to start being careful. Here are some “tips” that may or may not work for you, but seemed to work for me.

When pregnant/breastfeeding, don’t eat for two. Maintain your normal diet before you got pregnant (unless, of course you were too thin) to help to keep the weight gain to a minimum. It’s super hard though, especially in that first trimester, at least for me when I constantly felt the need to vomit unless I was eating a simple carbohydrate (bread, crackers, candy). Advice for that is just to do what you have to do to get through it. Every pregnancy is different and every person is different, but don’t use the pregnancy as a reason to throw out all your normal rules/guidelines for your eating.

**My first picture with my first baby.**

2. Breastfeed! – If you can at all breastfeed, even if you have to supplement with some formula, do this. This, of course, as long as you’re at a job where you can go to pump; not all jobs will cater to pumping breaks *evil eye stare*. Yes, breastfeeding is good for your baby, antibodies, blah, blah, blah, but it also can burn up to 600 calories PER DAY!! That’s equivalent to running a 10 minute mile for 6 miles everyday. Admittedly, I was only able to breastfeed Oscar for the entire suggested 1 year, but was unable to with India for more than 4 months before I dried up, and Calvin for only 9 months. Note: if you can’t breastfeed for WHATEVER reason, do NOT feel like a failure as a mother. No one can tell the difference between formula and breastfed people – except that my brother was breastfed his whole 12 months and I only got 2 months and was formula fed from there and he IS smarter than me. But, he also has asthma and I don’t. There’s all the proof you need.

**The biggest I have been – around 170 by the time India was born**

3. The 2000 calorie per day recommendation on the back of every single nutrition facts is based on the raging metabolism of an 18 year-old male. So, unless you’re an 18 year-old male, or run 8 miles a day, try finding a calorie calculator and don’t be too shocked when it tells you you should only eat 1200 calories per day. Cry a little, it’s allowed.

4. Don’t count your exercising as negative calories. Yes, they are, but if you think “I went for a run today, I deserve an extra beer, ice cream, and a midnight bowl of cereal” you will be deceived. If you keep track at all of your calories burned via app, etc, a) always assume they’re lying to you and b) remember (and cry a little) when you remember you can run your butt off for 3 miles and would have barely covered a single serving of vanilla ice cream, which, devastatingly enough is only 1/2 cup (measuring cup, not Big Gulp). Try eating just 1/2 cup of ice cream.. go ahead. That’s what I thought. Exercising is fantastic for you, great for cardiovascular health and building moderate muscles will help support your joints, especially as you age, and secretly you can remind yourself that more muscle increases your metabolism, but don’t let your stomach in on that bit of knowledge.

**Okay, if you hike North Mannitou Island (MI) and get lost** **and end up hiking 20 + miles, you can probably eat a lot more – except that you only have peanut butter and tortillas.**

5. Get familiar with food’s caloric content, but don’t obsess over it. Try keeping track of EVERYTHING you eat for a little while, but once you feel you have a general sense of caloric content – like eating out anywhere and ordering anything is a minimum of 1000 calories – you may be able to let it go. You may learn disturbing things like I did and all those harmless bite sized candy bars receptionists have at their desk or those insignificant donut holes actually add more to your end of day calories than the carefully calculated meals you obsessed over. When I used to keep a journal of my calories eaten, I would often just choose not to add those tiny insignificant calories and then when I saw that I had was negative 200 calories for the day, I would think “oh, good, now I can have ice cream” (remember that, literally, no one can just eat 1/2 cup of vanilla ice cream WITHOUT the chocolate syrup, mini marshmallows, and rainbow sprinkles) – I write this while enjoying a piece of birthday cake (the good kind with buttercream frosting) and a cup of coffee cause everyone knows that birthday cakes don’t count.

**Tony’s siblings and company winning at kickball in our Holiday Day Olympics**

6. Learn about the value of each food’s caloric content. Not all calories are created equal. I used to be extremely diligent about eating fat free foods as it was how I was raised with my mother constantly trying to lose weight and dieting. I even applied it to my daughter when she was born (and likely harmed her in some way, I’m sure) and fed her fat free cottage cheese and cringed at buying whole milk when she was a year old. Then, after I had Oscar, I took part in a self-care vetCE (continued education) where the speaker talked about the possible benefits of increasing the fat in your diet and decreasing the carbohydrates. I’m not talking about the keto diet – I have treated plenty of animals in the grips of ketoacidosis and do not recommend it – just decreasing the amount of carbs. In very simple terms, carbohydrates (sugars, breads, cereal grains) give you a “cheap high” – they make you feel good, but then less than an hour later, you’re starving again – a reason it baffles me how many diet snacks are carbohydrate based. Protein and fat, on the other hand will give you a nice slow burn (making sure you are not forbidden from increasing these in your diet by your doctor – my father cannot have almost ANY fat in his diet, including the “good fats”). You won’t feel immediately satisfied, but it will last so much longer. This is why a balanced diet is stressed by nutritionists. Being dramatically one way or the other can be harmful.

**Tony and I when I was first pregnant with India**

7. Really pay attention to your body and it’s responses to eating, drinking, and not eating or drinking. Feeling hungry and you shouldn’t be? Try drinking water, try to busy yourself with a task and tell yourself you’ll have a snack after it’s done. Feeling hungry and dizzy, probably want to eat something. Depriving yourself of all the good stuff all the time will just make you want to eat all the things after doing so well for so long (like 2 hours in my case if I tell myself not to eat something). After having dinner (try using small plates and only getting one small serving – you don’t have to feel miserably full to be full) if you’re truly craving some chocolate ice cream, have some, but make sure you’re REALLY craving it and not just “that sounds nice”. I know that I, personally, will just get into habits like having ice cream every night after dinner (the peer pressure from my husband doesn’t help) but that most of those times my appetite and craving center is actually quiet and content, but then I just eat the ice cream because it’s what we do after dinner. Or if I have a particularly stressful day at work, I’ll get home and enjoy some cheese balls and some red wine. Then a few days later, I’ll find that I’ve been doing that same thing every day since trying to re-create that amazing feeling of de-stressing that I had on the first day. By far, most of the time, I’m really not that stressed and don’t really want that drink, but do so out of habit. Stopping drinking with cheese balls and after dinner ice cream (we’re talking salted caramel with chocolate syrup, mini marshmallows, and rainbow sprinkles – and not no 1/2 cup neither!), I could save myself 5,300 calories a week! If I just didn’t have those little extras everyday, I could possibly lose 1.5 lbs per week! That’s never going to happen, but I could!

8. Finally, my best piece of advice: become such a worrier that you develop stomach pains every time you eat =) Just kidding, don’t do that. But, seriously, I wish I could say that I follow all these dieting tips and it keeps me looking like I do, but I know that I struggle with self discipline as much as the next person. So whether you consider me lucky, blessed, or cursed with anxiety and digestive issues, don’t get discouraged, and as Anne Sewell wrote “Do your best and leave the rest for it will all come right one day or night.” <3

**Probably my thinnest after Calvin – got down to 125 – I’ve gained from there, no worries.**

March 17, 2020

It’s just a little crush; and other marriage obstacles

**Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist nor did I study psychology, these are simple observations from my own experiences.

Marriage or any long term relationship is not the “happily ever after” we assume once the vows are said. They’re often not a fairy tale even getting to that point. I’ve often day dreamed about different fairy tale scenarios where you phase in on a scene 1-2 years after the magical wedding when The Beast has really not changed (cause they never really do) and is losing his temper, but by now, Belle has had enough of his crap and has locked herself in the library looking up a way to turn him into a much smaller beast.

So, what are some obstacles Tony and I have come across during our 19-year relationship and 13 years of marriage? Let’s start with our two break-ups before the wedding. The first one was when I was 18 and thought God was telling me to break up with him – lasted 3 hours, then we got back together. The second was when I was in my first year of vet school and was super stressed with exams and other issues. We were engaged and I got cold feet – I was worried that I would get bored of Tony or that he would eventually resent me since I was his first ever girl friend and that maybe we should date around. He gave me his engagement ring (yes, I gave him one too – if I have to be marked, so does he) and went off to work in the vet school hospital. An hour later, after one class of bacteriology, I ran down three floors to the hospital and gave him his ring back and it was okay again.

**City Museum – St. Louis, MO – get knee pads!!**

Those are such frivolous problems, though, in the scheme of relationships and trust. One if the challenges we’ve face, especially since having regular jobs and raising children is our lack of alone time together. We have a hard time getting babysitters and keeping them around (they tend to grow up – or move away and steal your horse trailer – I digress). If Tony and I do not get a date night every now and then, or at least make it a point to pay attention to each other and not just stare at the TV or our phones after the kids are in bed, we tend to gravitate toward roommate mode. In this mode, we work well together, we always have, but it’s business only. We discuss the dishes, laundry, kids’ homework, kids’ behavioral problems at school, common issues at work, but nothing about these things separates us from a casual relationship.

I can see this happening and worry as I DO NOT want to end up like some couples I see that do nothing but complain about being married and how big of a mistake it was. I will try to pay a little more attention to him, try to be flirtatious, try to plan things for us to do that is different from the norm. He is not as good at this and often does not even recognize when I am trying. I don’t want to ask him to be flirtatious or complimentary of me, but I figure if I pour it on him, he will return. Not so much. Men are a little dense when it comes to that kind of stuff.

**Roller blading – rail trail Clare, MI**

The biggest challenge to a relationship, though is the potential loss of trust. And the biggest obstacle to that precious, extremely fragile jewel that is trust is the f#&($ng crush! (pardon my language – but it deserves it) Crushes are like little demons that infiltrate your stupid brain and completely blind you to the truth and only let you see what tiny little things they want you to see. Tony may not be the most romantic man in the world, but I think we all need to give him a huge hand for dealing with my crushes over the years like a champ. I’m so afraid of hurting our relationship (as well as a general fear of getting into trouble) that I’ve always told Tony about my crushes, usually after I’ve fought them (the idea, not the people) but after they’ve already taken over my brain. He claims to not get mad or jealous, sometimes he just laughs at me because my brain’s choices are atrocious, but really, it isn’t fair to him. I unload my guilt by telling him what’s going on in my head and he just has to deal with it gracefully (which he totally does). He also claims to have never had a crush other than me. He could be telling the truth, but I mostly just accept it, because unlike him, I would NOT take it gracefully and it would be ugly.

So, what makes a crush so much like a dirty little demon? It makes you think that you may be in love with that person that you barely even know. It makes you focus on only the positives of that person and not see the million other things that make that person a terrible match for you. As my brother told me once when we were discussing this topic when I asked why I get crushes, he said “because that person somehow validates you, makes you feel good about yourself”. It’s like that one movie I saw with Janet Jackson (I think) where they talk about the 80/20 rule. When I’m mad or bored or depressed, I may only see the 20% Tony is lacking and wish for just that, then when another person comes along and provides that 20%, they seem perfect, but I’m not seeing the 80% of them that just doesn’t fit with me.

I’m happy to report that I have never acted on any of my crushes. The closest I got was to tell the person I had a crush on him, knowing that I would be overcome with embarrassment when we were together in public and it totally worked. I have told Tony everything I’ve ever done or thought and have even showed him all the texts I send or get if I feel that he may find them by accident and question me. I have now been crush free for 4 years! I continue to keep my eyes out though and if I even start to have those stupid, ridiculous feelings about anyone, I cut it down. Tony is the best person for me, he puts up with a lot and I never want him to hurt because of a stupid decision I make and lose that precious jewel of trust we have kept intact.

March 5, 2020

Honeymoon in Greece; a flop

When we were considering places to go for our honeymoon in May of 2007, we considered our ancestors. My family comes from, mostly, the United Kingdom and Tony’s Great grandfather came to the US straight from Greece. As poor college students, financial concerns definitely played a role in the final decision, and we decided to go to Greece (half the price of Scotland). Being a very sensitive person, I decided I was going to learn the Greek language so that I didn’t have to be an annoying tourist. I bought a CD and popped it in my radio of my Toyota Echo and played that thing every – almost – every time I was in the car (it was boring) for over a year before the big trip. We researched and planned, we bought books, Tony made all the day to day plans and where we would visit and all the transportation and hotels. We were ready!

**Athens, Greece and as close as we were going to get to the Parthenon**

First thing that comes to mind about the trip was the plane ride. I was something like 15 hours on the plane where I could barely fit in the seats, not to mention Tony’s extra 4 inches of femur. That’s something that scarred us enough that even 13 years later, when people talk about far off fabulous trips, Tony and I still think “ugh!! the plane ride!” Then we made it to Athens, finally able to live out our wonderfully planned vacation as newlyweds. The first thing we found out once our plane landed was: The entire transit system – including ferries – was on strike. How were we going to get around to all of our reserved hotels and destinations without transportation? There were some taxis still working, but they were expensive and not in our budget for all the traveling we needed to do. We were not able to visit major sites like The Parthenon, but did wander around the city and explored the National Gardens. The next thing we quickly learned was that my Greek was worthless. I would go up to people and try to speak what I thought was the Greek language, only to have them find out I spoke English and say “oh, thank God.”

We quickly learned where NOT to get food on a budget. There was a guy who came up to us and told us that he worked for a travel agency and had a restaurant recommendation for us and led us a few blocks to this pretty outdoor patio area. The guy there said he could offer us a special of a sampler platter for 30euro which was way more than we wanted to spend at that time, but we were also wanting to be polite and accepted. He ended up charging us 45euro, the food was good, but we were ripped off first thing.

That night, about 1 am Greece time, I woke up and was starving. I went down 6 flights of stairs to get to the lobby (no elevator) and asked where I could find food at that hour. The front desk guy gave me directions so I went and got Tony and dragged him on the streets at 1 am to get some food. Now, THAT is where we found Greece’s best secret – street Gyros – AMAZING taste and only 1.5euros (and they stuff them with fries).

The next morning, we were scheduled to go all over Athens to see all the sites and then go to Pireaus to get on a ferry to Crete, but with all the transportation strike going on, our ferry got cancelled and the only way to get one now was to go and reserve one on a first come, first serve basis. So, we packed up, said goodbye to Athens, then went and tried to beg a taxi to take us to the port. The taxis were just doing circles, asking people where they wanted to go and would decided whether or not they wanted to drive that and tell you yes or no. Except their no sounds like “okay” with a head nod and their yes sounded like “nah” with a quick head shake. So, while we thought one guy agreed to take us and we’re grabbing our bags to put in the car, he’s driving away, and then when one finally agreed, we looked disappointed and started to walk away. Yes, I had studied Greek via the flawless method of in-car CD learning, but when you’re in the situation and everything is fast-paced, it’s hard to decipher when the mannerisms are so opposite of what you’re used to.

So, we hopped in a taxi, paid another whopping 45E and made to to Pireaus just after the crack of dawn, and once the travel agency opened, we were able to secure a spot on the next ferry – leaving at 8pm. 12 hours later. We didn’t want to spend another 45E on a taxi and not be guaranteed to get back in time for the ferry’s departure, so we decided to wander the bustling streets of Pireaus – they were not bustling – it was a tiny little port town (at the time). We did learn some valuable lessons while wandering the streets – after finding out that the archaeological museum we were planning to see was closed (after a 30 minute hike to find it) – we learned that towns that are more tourist-based are not as bad and we once thought. Public restrooms were not widely available or available at all, except in McDonald’s. Yes, we hated going to such a familiar place while in Greece, but we could buy a McFlurry (or a Heineken, oddly enough) and just sit and rest and use the bathrooms. We did find a fabulous bakery that, to this day, served the absolute best baklava I have EVER. HAD. Also, in this pre-cell phone era, churches were great for their clocks.

**Pireaus, Greece – port city – best baklava ever**

Eventually, after studying the in-depth idiosyncrasies of pigeon social hierarchy, the day passed and it was finally time to board our ferry to Crete. We had, in an effort to save money, purchased the least expensive tickets to get us over to the large island – deck seats. I’m not 100% sure what we were expecting, but the deck seats were literally metal benches on the deck of what looked like a cruise ship. We sat down, excited to watch the romantic sunset as we were whisked away to the beautiful island of Crete. As we left the port and started across the Mediterranean sea with the sun setting, it very quickly got cold. Very cold. I found myself wishing I had not packed my jacket in the suitcase that was stowed under the boat.

We stayed out on the cold deck for as long as we could stand, which was not very long, then wandered inside. Just inside, there was a hallway with a large room with closed doors on one side blaring club dance music. We knew that we had only paid for the deck seats and knew that we could upgrade to an actual room with a bed, but for a lot more money that we were not prepared to spend. So, we settled just a few yards into the hallway from the outside, afraid of getting into trouble if we ventured too much farther. There was a small reading desk with a lamp, one wooden chair sitting next to a window with a large, heavy red drape. We sat on the floor, huddled together for warmth, and finally, seeing as it was an overnight ride, I lay on the floor with Tony’s leg as a pillow and did my best to curl up in the drape to stay warm. Tony just read a book and let me sleep – or at least rest as it was freezing, I was shivering all night, and the music from the adjacent room was never ending.

Finally, the ship arrived in Crete at the port of Iraklion at 5:30am. We got off the ship, set off to find our hotel, and promptly got lost. We walked with our rolling luggage far past where we were supposed to turn and ended up in a not-very-touristy part of town. An older lady took pity on us and, even though she didn’t speak English, led us to a bus stop and told us to go to Astoria. We eventually figured out how to buy a bus ticket and got on the bus. We had no idea when we had gotten to our stop except a nice passenger told us to get off. We finally found our hotel, but it was way too early to check in, so we went and got breakfast.

We then hiked to the other museum that was on our schedule to see, but it was also closed until August. After some more wandering and time killing around the city, we were able to check into our hotel at 11 am, promptly fell asleep and slept until 7:30pm – we’d slept the day away. Better rested and with at least something going according to plan – we had a roof over our heads – we set off to explore the city and get dinner. The city itself was actually quite beautiful on well-rested eyes – many shops and restaurants.

**Iraklion – don’t mind the reflections**

When we finally settled on a restaurant, Tony ordered a beer and I ordered the “house wine” known as Raki. Quick tip: Raki is NOT wine. I thought it was odd that they brought it to me in a resealable glass bottle with a shot glass, but figured it was the way Greeks drink their wine and started to drink – or inhale what immediately evaporated upon contact with a warm surface. I don’t even remember the rest of the meal; I have some memory of cuttlefish, but don’t know if either of us actually ordered it. We then stumbled back to our hotel (after buying some cookies) and crashed again.

The next day we were scheduled to travel to Knossos – and, surprisingly, we did make it there and had a great time. Pictures:

Next on our schedule was to travel to Chania – first we got lost finding the bus to get there, then as we were travelling, admiring the beautiful dramatic views of sharp mountain peaks with glimpses of the gorgeous Mediterranean sea far below us, we noticed that our hotel whizzed on by. We knew we weren’t anywhere close to Chania where the address for the hotel was, so we figured there was just another hotel with the same name and didn’t say anything. About 45 minutes later, we arrived in Chania and went to a travel agency where they told us we would have to get back on the bus and go back to the place we had seen. So, we caught the next bus and Tony tried to talk to the driver to discuss where we needed to stop or find out the closest stop, but he didn’t speak a word of English so we sat down and formulated a plan. When we got to where we thought we were close and the bus stopped, I went up to talk to the driver to “distract” him while Tony grabbed our luggage, because at this point, we were prepared for disaster. Once I saw that Tony had our stuff, I leaped out of the bus and Tony and I practically high-fived at our level of genius.

We began to walk – large rolling pieces of luggage in tow. Countryside. No sidewalks, no real shoulder. Just the road and rocks. We walked. We passed some very small goat herds. And then we walked. The wheels on our luggage were started to get pitted and not roll as well. Then, we walked some more. Like a couple of idiots, there we were, walking with rolling luggage in the middle of nowhere, sure that we would never see our home in Georgia again, for 3.4 miles before we caught a glimpse of our hotel. It was beautiful, and ended up being a German resort (I hadn’t practiced this language) with lots of older naked folks. There, we got to take our first dip in the Mediterranean which was cold but absolutely beautiful!

**Tony laughed at how touristy I looked – hey, I had to walk a lot of miles**

We explored that area for a couple of days, finding a tiny temple out in the sea that could only be accessed by traversing rocks that were barely projecting from the turbulent waters, as well as a little outdoor restaurant hut that we ended up going to twice as the owner was so nice. He kept bringing us samples of different kinds of Raki (now we knew better) and taking shots with us. He and the staff were all singing and drunk and swinging their Greek Orthodox beads around. He even offered for us to stay at his house the next time we visit (he was very drunk). The food (like all the food we had in Greece) was AMAZING!

The next day it was time to go back to the mainland and back home. We made it uneventfully to the port but still had several hours to spare before our ship was leaving so we caught a bus to the main city of Chania. This was my favorite place so far. The streets were beautiful, the shopping/restaurant area next to the sea was spectacular! If you’ve even been to Savannah and know the Riverwalk – it was similar except more open air with blue waves of the Mediterranean crashing on the rocks while you shopped or ate.

Then came the absolute worse part of the trip. Yes, it could get worse. We had (smartly *winky face) reserved a faster boat this time which they called the “Flying Dolphins”. We sat in our seats (inside the boat this time) and had to strap in like you would for an airplane. There were about 10 rows of 6-7 people in the room we were in. Then, the trip started and it was like riding a speed boat in the ocean with high waves, with no breeze for 1.5 hours. I get motion sickness very easily, but, apparently, it didn’t matter on this boat. EVERYONE was rushing to the bathrooms by about 20 minutes in. There was so much vomit, it was running down the floors. I was able to hold on for about 30 minutes, then I exploded as well – but was able to make it to the toilet. It was the sickest I have ever been on a trip – there was a line to vomit and people weren’t making it.

**Cat scavenging food while we waited for our ship back to Greece**

Last bit of hell – we got to the port at 1am, the airport at 2am (with Tony practically carrying me at this point) and then arrived back in Atlanta, GA. Eighty. Hours. Later.