i believe in a lot of things but what I believe in most is there's always a plan and I expect that plan to okay out.
2/2/2016 Tuesday So it's the first Tuesday of the month. What does that mean? Well Conrad has a SWAT training day and low and behold my 2nd born decided to pop a low grade fever and have nausea. She's about 5 days to becoming 14 but in my mind, I couldn't just pick her up and let her fend for herself. I picked her up in my white jacket and uniform and she burst into tears. I get it, she doesn't feel good. I burst into hysterics if I spring a 99.2° fever so I told her I'd figure something out. Conrad was out. Megan offered to run homd to skip classes. So I texted my Rph's and clued em in and said I'd be in when I knew someone could be there with her. I think I managed to douse myself all day today with antibacterial gel and did the same to Megan. I mean what was I thinking??? I called my daughter to be excused to come home who if she gets thus, we are fucked. We are checking ketones, debating on an ER visit for fluids and mother of the year here thought that was a good idea. Luckily, my crew excuses me until the rush hours set in around 3:30 until my original schedule ended at 7pm. Can I tell you how relieved I was? Lemme tell ya how relieved Katie was when she saw me hanging my jacjet up and folding my pants. Apparently the idea of having her sister home to be her caretaker wasn't gonna really pay off. I do love my baby still needs me no matter how hard she tries to convince me she doesn't. I'll take whatever I can get. I'm sure mom's would agree. It was soup, Gatorade and was truly a lay on the couch sleeping with the help of phenergan kinda day for my baby girl. Getting home after 7pm, she looked a bit better and I can only pray she wakes up the same way tomorrow. Been doing a lot of praying lately. I've never been very "churchy" since I was a kid and my parents did their duty making sure I was saved. Conrad and I lost all our faith in the Catholic Church when they demanded $3,000 for a wedding and a mandatory marriage retreat that'd cost us $1,500. We walked out thinking not good thoughts about the church I was raised with and lived. A religion my husband received the sacraments while at boot camp. You know the real kick in the ass? When Megan was 3 months and we went to get her baptized by the Catholic Church. We had our god parents all picked out too. My older and only sister Terri and Conrad's younger and only brother Paul. I don't know if it was when he wouldn't even look at us or shake our hands when we introduced each other or him actually saying because we got married in a Methodist church by a Lutheran priest our daughter a bastard in the lords eyes. A bastard that would only be allowed into hell because we were essentially NOT married because it wasnt the Catholic check that blessed our union...for $4,000. Let's just say I walked away in tears and Conrad walked away wanting to kick that priests ass. I remember holding on tight with Megan that day and I also remember Conrad holding me while I wept for what felt like an entire day. But we never went back. But back to the praying. I can't believe the God I believe in would turn its back on us so I pray. I pray every night I say goodnight to Megan. I pray for my California family we lost this month over the years that remind us of how much we miss and forget they're not alive. I pray for my dad (in law) who had a procedure on Monday that we'd questioned its worth before the same procedure almost took him life. I pray that the hospital he goes too knows what they were doing needed to be done to prolong his life. His life, his legacy, his smile, his laughter, we prayed they understood these things were more important to us than a procedure that almost killed him 4 years ago. So call me a hypocrite or a family doomed to hell because the Catholic Church said so. God listens. God has a plan and I believe that plan is already written but the power of prayer works no matter what the outcome is. Prayer is healing. It's not magic or an illusion. I think we'd all agree that when we pray, our soul comes out feeling good again. I hope you all are being comforted somehow and can feel the warmth of something beyond what we can visibly see. And know that if you ever ask for a call to prayer, you've got it and I hope you can feel it envelope your. Stay strong and we're all in this together. ❤️ If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.
January 29, 2016 So this year in July I'm gonna be 42. In September I'll be married for 20 years. None of these things are bothering me, I swear. What's bothering me is the reality of mortality. I didn't know Natalie Cole, David Bowie, Celine Dion's husband, Alan Rickman and anybody else who died over the last couple weeks. I wasn't crying or at candle light vigils making believe I was heartbroken. What bothered me most is their ages. Is it just me or doesn't mid 60's seem too soon? Or am I just living in lala land thinking that 90 is the appropriate age to finally accept death? I'm not old! I'm not knocking on whatever door I'm sent when I do die. I won't go fighting though. I'm not ashamed of anything or how I've chosen to live my life. I have secrets. I also am an open book. Yes yes, I know that doesn't make sense but a person has to have a few secrets in her life but she also has to be an open book so the people around me know exactly what they're getting. I have a handful of friends that I am proud to have. They don't judge, they wouldn't let me do anything stupid but at the end of the day, these friends are mine and by god I'm perfectly happy I can count on one hand those true friends. I was asked what that means for the other people I am friends with and its a simple concept. If I like you then I'm gonna be your friend. I'll defend you, I'll help you, I'll be your friend. What's the difference? Well somewhere along the line, if you're that friend not in my hand, you've fucked me over. You've made the decision that I don't belong at your lunch table or thought you found a better table. I won't argue with you, I won't even point out your mistake of fucking me over. If I don't like you, you're gonna know it. If I talk shit behind your back and it somehow gets back to you, I'll be the one person saying, "Yep! That's what I said! And here's why..." The last couple of months I've had to craft almost a 2 page list of days I'm not available to work. 2 freaking pages. There's not one thing on those 2 pages that involve me or something I can call mine. It's a busy year for us and by us let's just be honest and say us is the girls. So of course after the last couple of months both me and my husband have thought, "What about me?" Selfish? Maybe. But I think most would say it wasn't cause we need just as much attention or a reason to be on a list for unavailability dammit! My husband works extremely hard and by God I think he's amazing and appreciate him. I work part time and that's a rule set by both me AND my hard-working husband because if I do anymore it consumes me. I come home thinking about work. I come home complaining about work. I worry something won't get done. It's taken me over 15 years to finally find the magic number but 24 is it. I'm not stopping robberies, solving murders or diagnosing diseases but I am coming in contact with people who I've known for awhile. Some are sick with the normal crap. Some are dying. Some are trying to fill their Norco early and hoping I'll do it. (I never do by the way) I also care about my co-workers. Yes, even the ones who shall remain nameless that attended a Trump rally. I really care about those people. Over the last month it was suggested to try and step back from that too. It's not a bitch thing. It's a self preservation thing. And you know what? My husband has totally noticed that I come home smiling. I clock in, do my job as best as I can and how they expect me to, and clock out. I'm not gonna care anymore when I'm not at work. Nobody's paying me for that time but both my kids and husband are. He reminded me that I'm good at what I do and it has nothing to do with how much time I spend there or the relationships I try to grow from there. He reminded me that it was that exact same mistake I made 9 years ago when I came home crying and quit the next day. We all know I'd be severely depressed if I didn't work and I truly thank the fact that I have a job and have customers that I wanna help and co-workers that I appreciate and they return that when I'm there. Did any of this make sense? If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.