Reaping What You Sow - Ok, NOW I Get It!

So I'm going through that hormonal thing again, and I feel it reeling me in for another week long "whoa is me", episode.

"Not this time!", I'm thinking to myself.

Since last night I've been trying to figure how to snap myself out of this one with out reluctantly heading to a doctor for a symptomatic cure. I'm sitting out in the backyard this morning having my morning coffee and trying very hard to stay away from (hide on), the computer today. I'm looking over at my so-called garden that I've been piddling with over the past few months in hope of seeing something - anything - grow from the half-dead seedlings I planted.

Seriously! I planted all these organic herbs, tomatoes, peppers, purple and green beans, yada, yada, yada; and nearly all of them died! So what I had left, I've been trying desperately to keep alive.

Well.... not really, it would seem, since all those weeds are there.

Let me tell you, in a family of farmers, I was the only one born with a black thumb instead of green one. If there is a way to kill a plant without trying - I can do it!

So looking over that measly ragtag group of vegetation, I decided it was time to weed again. I won't tell you the last time I did some real weeding other than a few pulls here and there, of the "pod people" clovers that quietly weave their vines under the soil and then spring up everywhere. There like that crappy centipede grass that we have; all over the yard and serving absolutely no purpose whatsoever other to make the color green appear on my lawn!

So I began to weed... dig...... and weed. Then I'm onto hoeing some of the tougher ones out from around what herbs I have left and the experimental sweet potato plant my son plopped in a couple of weeks ago.

Wouldn't you figure! His sweet potato plant is doing far better than all of the shit combined that I planted!

45 minutes into this, I suddenly have one of those "Ah-HA!", moments. The neglectful weeding of my garden is exactly how my mind and soul feels at this moment.

I came to realize that life is just like gardening; you literally reap what you sow! Well " Duh!", you say!

Let's just say I'm one of those who has to learn the hard way instead of just taking someone's advice at, say...... age 18!

Like my garden, I have planted some good stuff in my life. On the other hand, I have neglected removing out the little shit weeds. They have grown bigger and overshadowed what is life giving to me and my personal garden.

The more I weeded my garden, the more I felt the weeds of my soul and mind being ripped out as well. I started planting some other seedlings that I was about to give up on, but decided they needed a chance to live as well. I was coming alive too and feeling joy return to my heart.

My kids were looking out the kitchen window as if their mother had gone mad as I was flinging dirt, weeds, and encroaching centipede grass from my garden. Soon they came out just to "watch". Then they were following me around with the bag of gardening soil and a spade; not asking what to do and not speaking much, but just watching me, then mimicking. Soon they were anticipating what I needed done before I even did it.

They eventually got the nerve to ask if they could help. Isn't that what they were already doing? There my little troopers were, waiting and ready to do as requested cause I think what they observed had finally surpassed the "mom's working" mentality they had going, and zoomed right into plain fascination of what I was trying to accomplish.

I saw it as my "self" was healing and my children were responding to their mother coming back to the land of the living.

Soon we were all hoeing, replanting elephant ears, planting more tomatoes and peppers, parsley, and something else that I started from a seed but don't remember what it was..... but I planted it anyway!

It was getting hotter and I found myself constantly in the kiddie pool bathing my face, arms, and legs with cool rain water. It suddenly took me back to a time when my grandfather got up before the sun, religiously every morning, to tend to his garden. Now I finally understood his passion.

Gardening is not just physical work that one should loath. It is an outer representation of what is going on in the inner shells of our body. Gardening is a way for me to release the weeds of my life that have accumulated through neglect and oversight. It is a way to let the good stuff grow while managing the unwanted and uninvited weeds that constantly want to creep in and take over those good plants.

I was filthy dirty when I was done some three hours later. My once white tank top was now covered with the earthly black of gardening soil, as were my now wet denim bike shorts. I was covered from head to toe in dirt, grass/weeds, and the sweet smell of sweat because I was smart enough to put deodorant before I started this whole process.

But I was happy and feeling alive for the first time in two days. I had discovered something that had been under my nose all this time without having me rush to a doctor tearfully pleading him for some drug to make it all go away (which, by the way, I was very close to doing).

My garden was just that drug. It would leave me with no other side affects other than dirty fingernails, a sense of pride and accomplishment, and a great need to take a long hot shower.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen any of those side affects listed in an anti-depressant commercial of late.

Who wants to weed?!

Family Photos From The Past... Dang! I've Changed!

I had to update this since my brother is hellbent on reliving the past through some of my funkier pictures. My brother recently sent this to me and I thought I'd give all of you a little peek at me as a baby AND as an 80's chick. I think I was about 2 when this photo was taken back when we lived in the community of Bent Creek, and I had just been released on my own when the others were taken in Phoenix in the early 80's.

Boy did it bring back memories.

So much so that I can hear "Babs" Streisand herself blaring in the back of my head right now.

There is Mike, the oldest, then Bobby (he makes us call him BOB now), and me.

See, we did live in the burbs before they were referred to as The Burbs.

Someone must be making me watch Dr. Who.

What a goofy damn face I had on this one!

And WHAT possessed me to cut my hair like this!

The Power of Mother Nature

After the past two weeks I've had, we have finally received a mental and physical cleansing today. It is absolutely amazing how the littlest things that we take for granted make the biggest impacts on our lives if we just slow down enough to notice.

We all decided to pack a lunch and head to the beach today for some much needed R & R. As soon as we were about to leave, a thunderstorm rolled in. The sky was black and impending booms were heard rapidly getting closer and closer.

Everything went back in the fridge. "Well.... at least lunch was already made.", I thought as I slid back into my computer chair to mildew for a few minutes while checking emails and tweets.

Then not long after, I had the urge to go back outside. I looked up and the sky was blue as the storm had decided to take a sudden curve to the northeast and blow it's hard rains and flashes of lightening in a direction other than ours.

Julian and my husband had settled in for a long game on the Xbox as I began packing the car under their noses. It's amazing what they DO NOT notice when on that thing.

When I yelled "Time to go!", I was received with five voices yelling "Where!" "To the beach, where else!", I replied (no yelled), so that every member in the various locations in the house could hear.

Flash Gordon has nothing on these kids in the form of speed in which they can run to the car for a day at the beach. After spinning around a few times as my family, one by one, flew by me to the car, we were off!

We decided to drive the road all the way to the end where Ft. Pickens is located on a secluded peninsula of Pensacola Beach. What a perfect choice my husband had made because it was just one of the greatest locations I have been of late.

There were NO tourist whatsoever!

We parked next to a wall that ran along the edge of the beach, climbed over it with all our food, a cabana, snorkel gear, and kids, and proceeded to plop down on a stretch of white sugary beach that attached itself to a small rocky reef.

The water was emerald green and calm; just perfect for small kids without worrying that one wave too big will be the one that causes them to down about a gallon of salt water. We took in some snorkeling next to the divers in the area to notice small crustaceans and fish living near the rocks.

We played for hours, took long walks, ate our food among seagulls and an out of place hawk, watched egrets fish for lunch, and played several rounds of water football and frisbee.

It was perfect!

It was amazing how being "in the moment" and staying there without allowing the mind to wander, just made all of the last two weeks of migraines, lost keys/found keys, lost bird, and screwed up birthday just completely melt as if it never happened. The girls and I were in the water jumping up and down chanting "Healing the crap of life!", while laughing and snorting the whole time.

The whole moment was like being given a do-over in life. Yeah... that's it - a do-over!

So I sit here watching the storm come back that danced it's way around us earlier. It seemed to have left us this morning to allow us to regroup as a family and become peaceful human beings again.

I feel compelled to stand in the backyard and dance in the rain when it comes and say, "Thank You" to Mother Nature for noticing how much this family needed her timely break.

It was just a little trip to the beach, a little moment in time, but it meant volumes as it healed our souls.

I've Thrown My Superwoman/Mom Tiara in the Trash!

As I sit back this morning trying to recuperate from yet another birthday, I have to reflect upon a wise woman's blog post of recent; Real World Mom and "The Superwoman Myth". The blog was short and sweet (unlike my long ramblings), and it made complete sense. I'm very tired this morning, so if some of this doesn't make sense, you can understand why, because I was trying to be just that.... a Superwoman/mom.

I spent 99% of yesterday physically, emotionally, and psychologically throwing myself into my daugher's birthday. I though that if it wasn't the most perfect day of the year,that I, as a mother, would be a failure as a mother, caretaker, nurture, and as a person. The day had it's ups and downs because my four year old daughter decided it was the best day of the year to run around as if I had let her play in a sandbox full of Domino's sugar while she ate it too. Plus she also thought it a good idea to throw a temper tantrum about every 10 minutes while we were at the mall as Toni picked out a personal present for herself.

Let me tell you, I felt like a failure from about 1- 5 pm, when one of her friends who wasn't on a last minute vacation before school started, showed up for ice cream cake and presents. Everything that I thought I was suppose to do for my daughter's birthday never materialized; not even close!

We decided to take Toni bowling for the afternoon and she had invited my oldest daughters best friend, Emily, to join us. Poor Emily; even though ALL of us were having the absolutely worse bowling scores ever (even our experience practicing on Wii didn't help us here), she had a total score of 14 by the end of the game. So as a Superwoman/mother, I was caught in making my daughter's birthday enjoyable, running all over the bowling alley chasing Nia down, and bringing Emily's spirits out of the gutter over her bowling score.

We eventually went to Toni's birthday lunch choice; Moe's Southwestern Grill to meet my husband for the whole 20 minutes he had for lunch during the day. Ordering for seven people became a very loud chaotic mess, and the whole restaurant was looking at us like we were extra's from the movie Deliverance as Nia continues to run all over the place without her shoes on as Julian tries to catch her. It was a real redneck moment! Emily wasn't looking too good either. Frankly, I think all the mayhem and chaos of the day so far, was getting to her at this point. If you're not use to being in my family of crazies, it takes some getting use to and the poor girl was getting a crash course!

Emily kept saying she was just tired, but she looked more like she was either going to past out or hurl on the floor in front of me. She was only exhibiting signs of the same stuff I was feeling, but I was desperately trying to shove in my own psychological and emotional closet in order for Toni to have a nice day.

I wanted to take her home so she wouldn't have to be exposed to what I knew was coming next: Nia becoming a basketcase and Toni trying to sprint through every store in the mall grabbing pretty much everything as her "personal" birthday present as I explained to her that the state of our bank account, and the national economy dictate that she choose only one thing.

PLUS I'm trying to save money back for a trip to New Orleans before school starts - but that's another story.

As predicted, Toni went wild asking for stuff, Nia was into everything and if we tried to stop her, the "drag her out of the store" meltdowns escalated and ensued. I'm trying to put on a smile and "act" as if everything is okay when it's not. I'm trying to focus on Toni, help Julian with Nia, and watch over Emily's symptoms all at the same time. Nadia was somewhere in the picture, but it was all a blur so I'm not sure where until we hit Old Navy for some quick clothes shopping.

Julian had locked Nia in the store-supplied stroller (THANK GOD!), and proceed entertain her with Indy style stunts up and down empty aisles while the girls and I could focus on Toni. I felt so guilty that I tried to talk Emily into letting me buy her a pair of corduroy's she was admiring and eventually tried on. I failed again as she refused my offer.

Someone asked me recently how I "manage" to parent four kids. I have NO stinking idea! Toni's birthday was no exception either. I want to give her the best day possible, complete with flowers, balloons, tacky clowns, all the presents she wants, and a inflatable jumping gym like they have at fairs. I wanted her to be Queen of the day with all her wishes coming true. Instead, I have settled for a crappy game of bowling, an out-of-control four year old, and my own issues of being a failure as a mom.

My son Julian and I literally had to take turns carrying Nia out of the mall kicking and screaming the whole way. Out of extreme guilt of not providing what "I thought" was a perfect birthday for Toni so far, I let her pick out several things as a personal birthday present at Old Navy. This set me back almost $100 which I have yet to confess to my husband.

So much for the travel fund to New Orleans.

We get home and Emily quickly disappears into her house. She probably went to hide in the confines of her own Superwoman/mother's arms while trying to escape the insane experience she had with my family. I had become a failure on my daughter's birthday, to my other daughter's friend, and in the "don't look like an asshole in public in front of your family", department.

When we got back home, I had 45 minutes to get my crap together before Toni's friend came over. I took 30 of those minutes winding down after the whole mall episode. I wanted to cry, apologize to Toni, wave a magic wand so that the day would be perfect again for her. I prepared hamburgers instead while Nadia and Julian frantically blowed balloons and set up the backyard for a little party for the girl.

Toni's friend Maddie showed and I felt a sense of peace knowing that now her birthday might resemble something of normalcy instead of the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants crap that had been going on so far.

They played, watched TV, worked on some computer games together as the rest of us prepared for dinner. Dinner was ready as soon as my husband walked in and we joined Toni in a picnic in the backyard; complete with flies and all.

Damn! Who invited the flies?

It seemed that upon sitting down for plates of grilled hamburgers, beans, and broccoli (Toni DID choose the menu), a real party began to emerge. That is until it was time to serve the ice cream birthday cake. Up until that moment, all seemed almost perfect for Toni. Then I had to misplace the birthday candles, and all the while I was searching for them cause my kitchen sits in four different places since I began this whole remodeling mess, that damn cake started to melt.

I had just taken a picture of a perfect birthday cake and decided to make one last attempt to find the candles when I look over and the blue icing on the edges had suddenly dripped to the bottom of the cake, and the frosting had decided to join the icing as well.

There was a frantic call for everyone to run outside to sing Happy Birthday as the cake was dripping all over the place as I ran with it. That is the FASTEST I have ever sung that song!

But of course, Toni only cared about how big of piece she was going to get at that point.

Toni unwrapped presents to much glee, then it was time to pole slam the pinata'. My kids have had an obsession with these things for about five years now, and this birthday is no exception. In my Superwoman/mom ways, I am obsessed with making sure everyone stands back far enough because I've seen one too many kids whacked with a pole as if someone is trying to send the pinata' in for a home run.

My biggest worry is on Nia cause she is adamant about getting what's in that pinata', and she keeps trying to run to the paper-covered thing every few seconds. I finally have to play mean mommie and tell her she's going inside for the rest of the party if she doesn't stand back.

I'm still paranoid, but everything is going okay until one of the last few whacks that Toni's gives it lands across the knuckles of Julian's left hand as he makes the mistake of taking a minor sprint towards this thing thinking that the last hit was the one to unload gobs of candy and cheap toys on the ground below his feet.

This was his own defining moment when he realized it was time to give up on the whole day. He licked his own physical and emotional wounds and left for the quiet seclusion of his room for most of the evening after that. He later told me that he worked so hard on Toni's birthday because all he wanted was a chance at that pinata'.

I told you my kids were obsessed with these things.

I, again, felt like a failure as a Superwoman/mom cause I couldn't fix all things for all my kids, and the neighbors kid, on this day. This is why Real World Mom's post struck me so hard when I read it because it made me question why we as mother's and parents put so much emphasis in making sure most aspects of our children's and our husband's lives are perfect.

Somewhere during the feminist movement, wires were crossed when someone eloquently stated that "women could do anything". I'm sorry, NO THEY CANNOT! We work, we take care of children, we take care of our homes, we solve domestic/economic/world problems, but please do not expect that we can do all these things simultaneously while baking the perfect cake in our spotless Christian Dior dress, and not a hair out of place!

Superwomen/moms are only human - not super human. I don't ever recall Marvel Comics making a SuperMom character, and if they did, they can trash it now because it's completely unbelievable in this day and age.

There are so many books and articles written today on how to be the perfect parent in child's life that it only adds to the guilt if you are not religiously following each and every piece of advice dished out like yesterdays leftovers from dinner. We live in an age where both parents work, bank accounts are being depleted faster than we can replenish, kids are exposed way too early to things most of us didn't deal with until we were in our thirties, dinner is on the fly, day-care centers and soccer fields become the new surrogate parents, we all are trying to do the best we can, but there is still some freaking idiot out there telling us "You are still NOT doing enough to ensure the perfect life for your child and/or family!".

I don't know about all of you, but I'm real tired of the pressure that the current society is putting on parents to be "perfect"; it's impossible to accomplish. How about telling us to do the best with what we've been handed to on a tarnished tin plate. How about telling us to be human with our families and not Superhuman, or Superwoman, or Superman. How about ending the constant commercials that tell us we aren't reading enough, or playing enough, or talking enough to our kids while on the other hand your telling us to give up our personal time with our families cause we aren't making enough money to meet societies economic standard in that department because we haven't acquired all the stuff needed to create that perfect life for our kids.

How about corporations realizing that the need to put our families first, and our jobs second, is far more important cause we are raising the people who just might work for their corporations in the future! I guess they didn't think about that in Business and Economics 101 back when we were in college, now did they?

How about other parents stop judging each other because I/we/they don't live up to the same expectations/standards that I/we/they think they should.

Instead of my daughter's birthday being just that: my daughter's birthday. I succumbed to the same bullshit I scrutinize here; I let myself fall hook-line-and-sinker into what I thought was acceptable to societies standards of a birthday for my daughter: entertain the shit out of her until I dropped dead from exhaustion, and make sure I take the rest of my family and neighborhood with me during the process.

I apologize to my daughter, my daughter's friend, and to my family for making a complete mess out of the day. I promise that birthday's will be on our own terms and individualized to your needs and personality. I promise to put your needs first instead of worrying about how I will be judged in the parental department if I don't present you with a crystal-laden pony and Cirque de Soleil performing in the backyard. I promise to make your day, and your day only.

I promise not to act like a stupid Superwoman/mom as much as I possibly can, and just be the person God made me to be; a mom with a four kids, whom I love and care for dearly.

Random Pictures From An Amateur Photographer

These were some of the pictures taken during my photography class with Tara this past Saturday. It was the first time I had used the the new Canon Powershot SX10 IS since giving it to my husband on Father's Day.

Did I just do a subconscious slip by telling you that I actually bought something for him that I really wanted for myself?

Oops! Me Bad!

Well at least I'm gonna produce a LOT better pictures from this handy piece of equipment than my iPhone can produce.

One must start from some place.

Oh, and I'm really sorry for the butt shot on the tortoise, but he refused to turn around and look at me, regardless of my incessant pleading.

WARNING: Migraines and Lost Keys DO NOT mix!

So I'm here to ask you..... How did you freaking week go? Well mine started off relatively.... GREAT, then started into an uncontrollable downward spiral!

BUT WARNING: I want to tell you that this is long one folks, so go get the baristas from Starbucks and bring them into your computer room, grab that stash of Swiss Rolls or the doughnuts you've been avoiding lately, and pull up a comfy chair and plan to be here longer than the five minutes it takes you to read through one of these compositions.

Last Saturday, Nadia and I went to the spa, and she got her first manicure and pedicure, complete with a foot and leg massage. I received a wonderful facial along with a foot and leg massage and a pedicure as well. It was a lovely gift given to me by my husband for all the hard work put in raising the kids and cooking his gourmet dishes every night. It was one of the best mother/daughter days I have spent with her in a long time and she proudly displayed her nails to all her friends that weekend. A real bonding moment for the two of us.

"Get to the good stuff!", you say! Hold your panties on cause I'm getting there!

All last weekend went well. We went to the beach, had lot's of fun, had fish and chips at Flounders Restaurant on the beach (which I highly recommend frequenting if you're ever in the Pensacola Beach area), and my kitchen remodeling was coming along fine and dandy. We ended by taking the kids to the movies on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

It was a damn fine weekend and we all had lot's of fun.

That's the problem.... our family had acquired TOO much fun in the debit department of the Universe Savings and Loan.

But everything that is yin must have a yang, and life is absolutely no exception. Well, somewhere along Monday or Tuesday, the universe had just decided that we/I had hit our "fun" quota for the month and the scales had to be balanced. My God! I never knew we had racked up so many stinking debits in the good times department.

Let me tell you something - it is HELL when it comes to paying back the Universe Savings and Loan Department!

I was eagerly awaiting yesterday as it would be the first time that I would meet my blogging buddy from If Mom Says Okay; Tara. We were taking a photography class together at the local zoo here and I was more excited than I was about getting my first facial last Saturday.

Okay, it was my first facial I've ever had and I promise from now on that I will make it a regular item in my "must do's for women" list. So stop with the dropped jaw syndrome already.

My painting had slowed a little bit due to the mounting paperwork I had to do for my husband and the 9 million vendors I had to make calls for to set up new accounts. No really, there 3 1/2 pages of companies I had to call to request info, then fill out new account forms, send in a copy of licenses, and yada yada yada!

The fatigue started setting in and IT DID NOT HELP that the monthly curse had bored its way down upon me at this time.

By Tuesday afternoon I literally felt like a 3000 lb., elephant was sitting on me wherever I went. By that night, the damn migraine set in.

"Oh yes sister, I know where you're coming from!", I can hear a thousand of you saying, cause those of you who have migraines know one minute everything is fine and dandy, and the next you are clawing the new paint/wallpaper off your bedroom walls while your head is spinning in circles like a Satan infested child from the The Exorcist! The green shit spewing from the mouth can be optional.

Oh Dear God - the BIRD! How could I forget about the Lovebird in this saga. Tuesday afternoon I was cleaning out the bird cage of the Lovebirds that belong to my husband, but he constantly has amnesia in the cage cleaning department. I didn't "secure" the cage effectively while cleaning the cage, and Jo-Jo, the female flew the coop into the great beyond leaving Neo, the male sitting all alone and distraught. I spent the rest of the day listening to my husband whine and mope about HIS lost bird.

"Sorry honey, I guess all the poop and old birdseed dripping down my leg as I dismantled the bottom of the cage overrode the common sense to secure it!", I snapped back at him as my migraine started to really kick in.

Frankly, Jo-Jo was a pretty nasty bird to live with considering she was constantly beating up on Neo, pulling his feathers out, and being an all-around attention diva in the cage. Neo has been acting much happier since she's left for seedier bird feeders.

I spent the latter part of Tuesday evening and night making mock Lovebird calls in the backyard while the neighbors contemplated calling the psycho ward just to shut up my perpetual tweeting in the back yard. Now my lips hurt along with my head!

By Wednesday, I had become that Satan infested child, and this is where the rest of the week went completely downhill into a muck infested cesspool called life.

I was wallowing around on my bed covering my exploding head with a heating pad. I was chanting/swearing/screaming in Latin-laden Satanic mantras which is completely perplexing to me since I have never taken a word of Latin in my entire life!

My four year old now knows another language to use around the house besides Spanish and Chinese - Nickelodeon Style!

You can imagine what I was like by Thursday night; a painful, crying, blubbering, drooling, babbling, whining, screaming mess! My twins were taking turns giving me a back rub while I tried to hum Puff The Magic Dragon to make the pain go away.

I'm delirious, okay!

My head felt like three ice picks had been shoved in it (one of which is in my ear), a series of grenades were going off as well, and that same 3000 lb., elephant still sitting on top of my head.

My husband comes in to take over rubbing my back and asks five different times what I wanted to do, to which I reply five different times that I want to go to the hospital. Apparently he had ear plugs or something in his ears those first four times he asked cause he never heard me until I literally screamed at him that I wanted to go the the ER - NOW, then proceed to roll off the bed and land on the floor to get ready to go while chastising him for sitting on the XBox while I'm rolling in agony in the bedroom.

Since we have four kids and SOMEONE had to stay behind and watch them, I was left to drive myself along with my son Julian to the ER for ANYTHING to kill the searing, burning pain in my head.

I drove no faster than 20 miles an hour for the five mile trip to the ER. The traffic just loved me that night, but I was deathly afraid of running into a tree with my son in the car. "Get a migraine - maim your son in an accident in the process!", I'm thinking to myself.

Now how many of us hate ER's? Come on, raise your hands now cause we KNOW you just love waiting 3-6 hours when you are dying on the ER floor while that helpful hospital staff politely step over you cause IT'S NOT TIME TO CALL YOUR STINKING NAME YET!

I get in there at 9:04 p.m., and it takes them 30 minutes before they call my name to even register me. There are only 15 other people in the waiting room; why the hell is it taking 30 minutes just to take my blood pressure and stab a thermometer in my mouth for 10 seconds?

I'm rocking back and forth, holding my head while everyone else looks at me like I'm a mental case. My son does the only thing he knows to help: rubs my back and holds my hand.

They still look at me like I'm a mental case.

Finally I get called back to run vitals and copy my insurance card. Let's not forget the most important part of the visit - HOW YOUR GONNA PAY FOR ENDING YOUR PAIN! Luckily, they have 95% of my personal info already since my last visit when Nia had to get stitches for sofa surfing. But they are kind enough to put me in a wheelchair since I nearly passed out cold on the floor.

Then comes the major wait. One hour later they finally call me back to my own little room in the ER which I promptly climb up on the bed and assume my previous position of curling up in a ball on my hands and knees, stuffing a pillow into my face, and rocking like...... a mental case. But the nurse was kind enough to bring hot blankets to cover me in a sub-zero ER room.

I told Julian NO photos of this moment as he reached for my iPhone from my purse!

Apparently, he was too tired to listen.

I waited..... and waited..... and waited..... the Rapture came....... and waited...... and waited...... and hell froze over....... and waited...... and waited....... and the Second Coming was about to begin, but then the doctor showed.

I explained the whole migraine symptom thing that had been going on for the past two years. Yes! I've been dealing with this for two years and am now just going to a doctor for it. Let's just call it denial and get it over with.

"You are having grand maul migraines.", he announces. Great! Now that I've got his expertise opinion of what I already know to be true, just give me the stinking pain killers and let's get this over with so I can continue with life with four kids.

They start me on an IV and process me through three different pain killers to "find" which one will stop the pain. My migraines finally settle on something called Fioricet. All I know is that I was high as a kite and feeling absolutely no pain of any kind, and my mouth felt like cat fur with the taste of rubbing alcohol.

Poor Julian had finally passed out from sheer exhaustion on the pillow beside me and was snoring incessantly in my left ear. I didn't care because he had rubbed my back non-stop since 9:04 p.m., and it was now after midnight.

I laid there until they finally released me around 2 a.m. I took a cab home since my husband was at home with the other three kids, and there was no way in Hades that I could drive the Odyssey home at any speed under the influence of all the "Happy Drugs" they had just infused me with.

I took a Yellow Cab, got home, and Julian and I fell into our own separate beds, clothes and all.

I awake the next morning to "Honey, where are the car keys to the van?", my husband requests. "By my purse on the counter where we left them last night.", I reply in my still have drugged groggy state of being. Rattle, rattle, clank, thunk - "No there NOT!", he yells from across the house with a hint of impatience in his voice.

I have to fall out of bed in my state and head towards the kitchen to help him look for what obviously should be staring him right in the face. What I find are no keys. Next begins the frantic search since he's a major procrastinator in the key finding department, and he has to leave in five minutes for work. We look, and look, wake Julian to grill him since he was the one to grab the keys from the backside of the wheelchair the last I saw.

Still no keys were found. Husband is left taking the old clunker BMW to work without half his equipment. Pissed is an understatement in his mood.

After calling the hospital, and the cab company several times to see if they had found the keys, we finally caved into the fact that they had been lost for good. But I still called both places up until Saturday morning.

Now my big photograph class with Tara is bright and early on Saturday morning at 9:30. All I can think about is ridding myself of this nagging migraine that is now in "on again-off again" mode as it's trying to wind down. I'm popping my meds and getting acupuncture treatments to rid myself of this blight in my head. I am so weak by Friday night, but still manage a shower in order to be semi-ready by Saturday morning, but nearly have a heart attack in the shower as a palmetto bug (giant cockroach with wings) flies into the shower and I'm trying to smack it while soap suds are in my eyes. All I managed to do was smack the shower curtain rod, curtain and all, to the floor leaving me soapy and water spraying all over the bathroom floor. The palmetto bug escaped out the door.

The universe has decided that the scales are just about balanced because I wake up Saturday morning feeling somewhat normal, slightly weak, but ready to get to the class. That is until my husband wakes up and we have to finally deal with getting new keys made for the Odyssey.

Did I mention that I completely loath this van?

I call the Honda dealership and explain that I need a key to BOTH open the door and turn the car on since some egghead in the car security business decided that we need computerized chips in our car keys to protect us from the other shitheads stealing them.

WHO WANTS TO STEAL A FREAKING FAMILY VAN!!!!

I explained this several times so that they understood exactly what I needed. Well, after factoring in that I needed a new remote, needed to reprogram the immobilizer, and needed a new key, I got hit with a whopping $345 +/- estimate!

The husband hit the roof, hit the computer desk, and rattled off a series of expletives; much of the likes I've never heard of before.

"Think, think, think!", I kept repeating to myself. Suddenly I thought of a locksmith and figured they should be able to do this for much less. So I Goggled one and picked a local company called Ace Unlocks in Pensacola. Once again, I explained the situation and asked if they could do it.

"No problem.", the guy told me, "It'll be $150.". "Where is the car?", he asked next. I stupidly gave the phone to my husband to finish off the deal and he said they would meet me at the car, which is STILL parked in ER parking lot, at 1 pm on Saturday.

I THOUGHT everything was taken care as I went to ready myself for my photography class.

As soon as I got out of the bathroom, my husband announces that he got Pensacola Honda down to $150 and that's where we'll take it.

"But!!!", I reply, but am interrupted by my every-so-smart husband who says he told them he works at Wal-Mart and doesn't have $345 to re-key the car. They came down on the price cause they thought that since he worked at Wal-Mart, he doesn't have any money. I'm not sure if that was a dumb or smart idea, but it apparently worked so I went along.

I left for my photography class, but stopped by the ER to make sure the car was even still there and had not been vandalized since I hadn't seen it since Thursday night, and I asked if anyone had turned in the keys. No keys, but all was good as I headed on to the zoo for the class. The universe had seen that my yin/yang debt had been paid in full and life was back on balance.

I was so happy to finally meet Tara as we clicked, clicked, clicked our way through the zoo via the train. It was the first time I had used the new camera I had bought for my husband for father's day, but I was getting some fairly decent shots.

Tara was everything I thought she'd be: laid back, funny, into the moment, and generally a great person to enjoy this moment with. For once, I had finally forgotten the migraine episode, the delayed remodeling, the lost keys, and the basket case of husband I had left at home. I was into hippo's, dragonfly's, "banana" snakes, and figuring out how to make a fountain stand still in time.

It was the first perfect moment I had had since this whole insanity started.

SCREEEEEECCCHHHH!

It all came to a halt as soon as it began. I realized after the class was over that I had to go back to real life and deal with this stinking van! I wanted just to forget about and spend the rest of the day walking with Tara and taking pictures at the zoo. That seemed so much more normal than what I was facing once I got back in the BMW and headed home. But I had too; the husband had to have the car by Monday morning to go out of town.

I reluctantly left Tara and the peaceful zoo setting and headed home to arrange for a tow for the van and start this whole reprogramming process that I knew would consume the rest of my day. My head began to hurt a little again, but since I would be driving, there would be no taking foo-foo feeling meds until the job was done.

Since I hadn't eaten a thing since waking, I shoveled a bowl of fried rice down my gullet and called the towing company to meet me at the hospital to tow that piece of shit van to the Honda dealership. Nadia and I were dropped off and we waited about 45 minutes until a portly short man showed up and I had to watch the "oh so happy" look come across his face as I explained that he had to put it on his flatbed, sans keys!

There we were, watching a ringwormed faced, butt crack showing tow guy maneuver my parked van onto a flatbed without ripping out the tranny or tipping off the side of the truck in the process. And as many times as I had to see the crack of his ass, it was the first official full moon I have ever seen a 2 in the afternoon.

My head began to ache a little more in the hot sun as my linen shorts soaked the sweat dripping down my back.

Finally we were off to the dealership with Nadia and I riding shotgun in the front seat of the tow truck. No, Nadia was not the least bit thrilled about a first time ride in a tow truck. Her nails were firmly gripped into the door handle as she feared for her life the whole way there. Something about being high off the ground, the ride being bumpy, and the ringworm on the guys face was creeping her out. I was practically sitting on top of her for fear of being contaminated from the ringworm like stuff covering his face and arms. I officially felt like a redneck at that moment.

I reach a sense of nirvana as we unload the van at the dealership and I'm thinking "we're almost home" now. All they have to do is get the key, reprogram the car, and we're on our way in about an hour after we pay the $150 my husband finagled "BOB" in the service department down to.

Not. So. Fast!

The Universe Savings and Loan Department has decided that I owe again for all that enjoyment I got at the freaking photography class at the zoo and it's time to pay up cause I got a little more yin happening than yang again!

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

"BOB" informs that they have a "generic" key that will open the car up, but that they don't have a "master" key in which to "reprogram" my immobilizer in order to make me a key to start my car thus producing a somewhat normal life for me again. They don't have a master key in stock for "my make of car" and will have to order it, therefore my car can't be "fixed" until Tuesday.

"Excuse me!", I scream in my head! Didn't we just go over this shit with them this morning and they said they could fix the whole stinking car key issue for the price of my first born's leg?

Then "BOB" says he can call Enterprise and set up a car rental and "maybe" my car insurance will pick up the expense. So I get to work on the insurance end and file a claim with State Farm. I give "What's his name from the India Outsourcing Department", my info over the phone because the claim department he just talked to wants details in order to get me my rental car for the weekend. After giving "What's his name" all the info, he puts me on hold to tell the claims department to go ahead.

"Mrs. K***** - I'm sorry, but the claims department just closed, so they can't process your claim until Monday morning.", Mr. India-man says to me in his best fake-American accent.

I can't decide if A: I want to cry; B: I want to scream every expletive I've ever learned in my life at this idiot; or C: Throw the iPhone through the plate glass window in front of me in hopes that SOMEONE will understand what I've been through up until now.

I'm feeling the migraine wanting to kick in more and I am without my pain meds, but still I start chanting "Think, think, think!", to myself as I neurotically walk around a picnic table outside the service department. I'm finally settling into pissed mode as I go back to "BOB" and ask him why he didn't inform me such information this morning after giving him detailed info on what exactly I needed. "Because we didn't know exactly if we could do it until you brought the car in.", he says in his stupid service sales guy voice.

All I can manage in my head at the moment is how I will NEVER own another Honda after this moment considering all the money, time, and energy I have sunk into this jalopy of a van. Then I also remember why I never like to work with dealerships because it's all about money and less about actually helping a customer.

So I turn to "BOB" and say, "I called Ace Unlocks this morning and THEY said they could do it - no problem. Now why can THEY do it, and you can't?".

"Uh, uh, uh...... because you need the master key in order to reprogram the immobilizer or the key won't work to turn the car on.", "BOB" replies looking a little red in the face.

"But he guaranteed he could do it and even double checked to make sure.", I press on.

Suddenly there is a flurry of conversation between "BOB", another "service rep", and the "head" service-fixer-car person. They are all discussing, at the same time, how they think it's impossible to do without that "master key", and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. As they are talking, I whip out the iPhone and call Ace Unlocks while I'm standing in front of "BOB" and the so-called helpful service department personnel.

"Uh, hi. I'm the one that called you this morning about rekeying the Honda Odyssey. Can you still do that even though I don't have a key to the ignition?", I ask as suddenly voices quieten and all eyes are upon me. I explain again to this guy the whole situation, he assures me he can do it cause he was all ready to come and meet me at 1 p.m., before my husband got the hair-brained idea to take it to the Honda dealership in the FIRST place. He said he could be there in five minutes.

"Fine! Do it!", I said while "BOB" and his crew stared at me with wide eyes and gaping mouths. "BOB" continued to follow me around the service department assuring me that this guy couldn't do without that fucking master key I keep hearing about. "Well why don't you just ask him HOW he does it.", I keep telling "BOB".

Ace Unlocks shows up and takes over the car like he's done the same car a 100 times already today. You can now see "BOB" and the other service guys staring vicariously from the garage doors of the service department, highly anticipating whether this will work or not. The guy hooks a $10,000 (I had to ask) machine up to my ignition, goes back to his van, comes back and starts that freaking piece of crap van in under five minutes.

I just had to do the "Your the man" dance in the parking lot in front of all of those he overdressed, probably overpaid service department guys as I yelled over and said "Thanks 'BOB'!".

They immediately began closing all the garage doors, Bawhahahahaha! I began to tell the locksmith guy how my husband is going to seriously pay for not listening to me this morning for not having him do this in the first place.

So let's add up my expenses for this little escapade:

• $25.00 to have Honda make the key just to unlock my van doors, but not start the car.
• $0.00 towing charge cause that was covered under my iPhone travel protection insurance.
• $162.00 to have Ace Unlocks save my freaking sanity and make me a key in less than five minutes.

Total spent on my adventure on Saturday: $187.00

This is what I COULD have spent it on:

• Another great facial, manicure, and pedicure for my daughter and I.
• ALL the kids school supplies for this year.
• Most of the kids school clothes.
• The damn food processor that I need cause mine is broken unless I use a knife to activate it (another long story - let's just skip that one today).
• The rest of my hardware for my cabinets AND the glass backsplash I was planning on.
• The picnic table I was wanting for my backyard.
• Feeding 18.75 homeless people at Golden Corral!!!!!

On the way home, Nadia and I decide to stop off at Publix and pick out 6 gourmet cupcakes to devour cause frankly, we all damn needed it after this past week! As I am almost home from this nearly ill-fated expedition, the phone rings. Now usually I don't answer phone numbers I don't recognize, but something compelled me to answer this one.

"Hello.", I half wearily say.

"Mrs. K*****, this is Baptist Hospital. I just wanted to call to tell you that we found your car keys.", the kind lady replies.

There is a pause on my end, a very long, long, long, long, long pause. Then I proceed to smack the living shit out of my steering wheel so many times that if I kept going, it just might of very well flown out the side window leaving me with a new challenge to deal with THIS week.

Nadia suddenly climbed into the back seat.

"Mrs. K*****, are you still there?", she asks.

"Are these keys on a blue YMCA strap?", I slowly ask back.

"Yes ma'm! I found them in a drawer and I told everyone that they were the keys you kept calling us about, so I knew they were yours.", she has the impudence to chirp back after my days of mayhem and pandemonium caused by the very keys she is speaking of!

"I'll be right there.", I submissively reply as I sink into my drivers seat of the van that has held me hostage for stinking DAYS. The head begins to hurt again as I call my husband to deliver the unimaginable news. There is dead silence on his end followed by another group of expletives I don't think I've ever heard before again, so I quietly hang up on him and head for the hospital around the corner.

They hand me my keys in what I think is a befitting package: a plastic bio-hazard bag.

I head home, bypass the acupuncture needles and head right to my pain meds, come back to the kitchen and take two bites of the lasagna that has been waiting for me for 1/2 hour, then stick my head in the bag of cupcakes and promptly retrieve a extra large, gourmet Mocha Latte cupcake. It is gone in three bites.

If I were into hard liquor, I would have downed a pint in about three gulps at this moment.

Even though I had my original keys back, the ignition keys were useless now as the immobilizer had been reprogrammed to a new key. So I called Ace Unlocks, cause I just HAD to tell someone the ending of this long epic. He laughed, he was sympathetic, and then he said to bring the original key in and they would reprogram it for no charge.

Out of all the cast of characters in this whole migraine/lost keys episode, Ace Unlocks was the only entity/group/company that had any insight into my misfortune and truly wanted to help without jacking me around in fourteen different directions, quoting my outrageous estimates, and bringing me to the brink of insanity.

And they agreed that my husband should have listened to me all along.

I would like to literally walk up to Friedrick Nietzsche and bitch slap him for ever saying "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."! After times like this, I now consider this the stupidest saying I have ever heard!

Oh, and I should mention that, to top off this whole chapter in my life, just after I finished this blog the cops showed up saying they just received a 911 call from my house. Now considering that my husband took all the kids to the 2 p.m., showing of Harry Potter, I'm no where near the two cell phones in the house, and it's just me, Neo the Lovebird, and Remi the cat having a quiet Sunday at home.

What good is having an animal if they don't call 911 for help when you actually need it!

Now excuse me while I go take one of my prescribed controlled substances cause I feel the migraine coming on again, climb in bed for a nap, and sleep with my STUPID CAR KEYS!