Wednesday, June 17, 2015

smack dab in the middle.

In just a few days, my firstborn will officially be a middle school kid.  I have not been handling this transition well, and in fact have literally made myself sick from the stress.  In all fairness, this has not been the only stressful thing on my plate recently, but the several days and nights worth of Ugly Cry added up to one sick mom.  3 meds later, I am getting better thankfully.  I am trying to CHILL OUT but that concept has never come easily to me.

Case in point.  Today I went to the dentist for my 6 month check up.  I sit back, the hygienist asks me how I've been doing.  We make small talk while she gets the instruments of torture ready (seriously, I'd rather go to the gyno any day of the week,  I hate the dentist!).   She then asks me how my girls are.  Bless her heart, she just murmured "you poor thing!" as she dabbed at my tears with the paper bib around my neck.   I pulled myself together by trying to joke around then, but the fact was I was in the dentist's chair crying, tears being wiped by a paper bib.  Pretty pathetic.

So why the crazy.  It's just so.much.change.  Bailey has been at the elementary school less than a mile from our house for 6 years - 6 good, relatively easy years.  I can be lazy - easy matters.  We know most everyone, the bus comes right to my house, at 8:45am (seriously).  But it's not just that.  The girls are together, and they love being together.  They look out for one another and when they see each other in the hall, coming or going from one "special" to the next, it's like a celebrity sighting.  

Next year Bailey will leave the house at 7am, which is earlier than she currently wakes.  She will have to wake up extra early because she has to do her treatment.  There won't be sitting at the table with the girls while they eat cereal and I nurse some coffee.  There won't be morning prayer by the front door, which we have done every single weekday, never missing.  Sure sometimes it was real fast as I heard the bus hauling down the street, but it was said.  Ever since pre-school.   They were in pre-k together at church (different classes but still), then Taylor started at Rice the same year Bailey did since she had 2 years of pre-k there.  So we have been in this routine awhile.  I also am nervous about middle school itself.   I did take much comfort in something her teacher said to me recently though - "Bailey is innocent but not immature."  She went on to say that yes, she'll hear things and learn things that I would like for her to never know about.  But her maturity will be there to guide her towards good decisions.  I agree and I'm thankful for that.

I'll miss the "littleness" that goes with being a grade school kid.  The class parties, the "all about me" projects.  The fact that as long as she's in that elementary building, she's still a young girl.  Middle school is a game changer and we all know it.  I hated middle school!  And I'm sure that's part of my problem, and Bailey might not have the same experience.   I hope.

Yes there's good to come.  Yes we are excited and looking forward to many things ahead. Yes this is NOT WORTH CRYING ABOUT...a few tears sure, but this is ridiculous.  Sleep deprivation compounded these feelings times, oh, a million I think.

I have had seasons like this before.  When Bailey started first grade, her first year away from me all day, I struggled very much.  Time moved on and so did I.  I will again.

I think I partly struggle because I'm just so in love.  How could I not be.  These years having young children have been difficult at times, but they are surely the best years of my life.  I know it.  That's why it's hard it's going so fast.

First day of kindergarten 

A few weeks ago, before her dance at school 
I'm so blessed to be a mom.  A lot of good, good stuff happens smack dab in the middle doesn't it though.  So I'm going to try extra, extra hard to look forward to middle school and not grieve for the end of elementary.  After all, I can't ignore the blessing that some cf kids never even see this age.  How thankful I am for her good health.  How thankful I am to have a great school system.  How thankful I am for all of these wonderful years and the years to come.  So no more tears (that's a lie).  But I am willing them to be tears of happiness and gratitude, not tears of sadness.

And lest we not forget....SUMMER IS HERE.  There is no sadness in summer!!!

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

hippie moderation

I have commitment problems, obviously.  I took a nice long blogging break, didn't I.  I commit to people just fine...well...mostly.  I do keep meaning to see my two best friends from high school.  But really, I start stuff all the time, only to either get distracted or quit.  Why do I do that?  Case in point - all of Bailey's pictures from her first 2 years of life are in boxes.  This is back where you had a point and shoot camera and you got film developed.  Seriously!  So there are a million pictures because I'd take a ton trying to get the perfect shot.  Why are they in boxes?  I kept meaning to scrapbook them as at the time, I was into scrapping. Somehow with a baby that ended up getting a life changing, world spinning medical diagnosis, I never got around to it and the pictures piled up (imagine that).  Then when Tate arrived on the scene I knew for sure I'd never scrapbook again in my whole entire life, and I slipped pictures into photo albums once a month.  Until a few years ago.  Now I have pictures in boxes, pictures on my phones, pictures on CDs, pictures on memory cards...but no pictures on a computer, I am not that tech savvy.  This is huge on my to-do list of 2015 and what I have done so far?  Very little.

Then there's my self project.  Every year I make a "commitment" to work on myself.  Take vitamins, drink lots of water...add lemon and heat it up while you're at it.  Exercise, cut sugar, flour, bad fats, GMO's, MSG, etc etc etc.  Lose a bunch of weight while gaining a ton of much needed self esteem.  

I tell myself I'll yell less at my kids.  They take my quiet voice and counting down from 10 in the bathroom as an invite to listen even less, whine a bunch more and it doesn't take long - like January 2 - until I am yelling down the stairs for them to LISTEN TO ME RIGHT NOW IF YOU DON'T GET UP HERE AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH AND YOUR HAIR BECAUSE SERIOUSLY YOU ARE NOT HOMELESS AND WHY ON EARTH ARE YOUR CEREAL BOWLS ON THE FLOOR WE DON'T HAVE A DOG AND ARE YOU FIGHTING OVER BARBIES AGAIN?!! YOU HAVE A MILLION BARBIES HOW CAN YOU BE FIGHTING OVER A BARBIE!!!

I put myself on a money budget and that kind of works just like my diet.  All it takes is one well stocked Home Goods to bring on a binge.  Then the guilt.  

So here's been my new thing (let's hope I commit to it).  I want a happy medium.  I want to live in "moderation" like all the hippies call it.  I want to work on myself without hating myself. 

Today, I don't have to work.  I cancelled my dentist appointment because my throat really hurts so I have the whole day to do what I want.  Guess what, I'm going to watch my DVR'd Grey's Anatomy and not feel guilty.  I'm going to do one thing towards the plethora of pictures.  I'm going to drink some hot lemon water but I'm going to eat rye toast with my egg.  Because it's not devil's food, it's delicious.  I'm going to vacuum and clean not because I have to but because I love having a clean house.  I'm going to write my family love notes for their pillows not out of guilt that I lost my ever loving shit a few days ago over bad attitudes and drama, but because I love them more than life itself. I'm going to take pictures at the school dance, bring Bailey a big thing of icy Gatorade because it will be too hot for her, discretely cry as I watch her twirl and laugh with her friends and her crush, and marvel at how Taylor owns a room when just a few years ago she didn't even want to be IN the room.  I'm going to take a nice long walk this morning and smell the flowering trees, not because I am trying FOR THE LOVE TO LOSE JUST ONE POUND THIS WEEK but because it is gorgeous out and it'd be a sin to not enjoy it.  

I want to love life more.  I want to love myself more.  I want to lay my head on the pillow at night and not think about what I didn't do that day, I want to thank God I HAD a day.   And I want to look forward to my next day, not dread it because of all I "have" to do, knowing I'll fall miserably short.   

And guess what else - I'm going to write in this blog again.  Sometime, I really will, I promise.  :)  

Wednesday, October 8, 2014


I have one more year with a child that is in the single digits.  NINE!!!  My baby turned 9 yesterday.  I really, truly, completely can not believe it.  I remember so vividly the days that seemed to DRAGGGGG on, and here we are at a place where time is flying.  I remember calling Kevin, "when are you going to be home?  Why'd you take THAT way, that way is longer!  What are you near now?  The Wawa?!  That is still 15 minutes away!!"  Yes, I was that wife.  I was that mom.  The mom that feels like she's drowning, and I only had 2 kids.  But Taylor cried for years (no exaggeration), plus I had a kid with medical needs (therefore even more to worry about) and it was really hard.  This very blog all began late one night, as a lifeline.  I thought if I could write-it-out, it'd be a sort of therapy.  And it was, and it is...and I guess I need less therapy because unfortunately I rarely write.  I should write more, as I really do like venting via typing.

But back to the birthday girl.

Taylor came to us much like Bailey did - as an exciting surprise.  Ok more like a HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN?!  That shock QUICKLY turned to joy and I will say to my dying day, God has given me the best presents I never asked for.  How thankful I am to Him, to always know what I need before I do.  And yes, I even feel that way about the baby that didn't stay.

When I got pregnant with Taylor, Bailey was only 15 months old.  Again, I was sick throughout my pregnancy, just as I was with Bailey.  They think it was because my hormone levels were so high - in fact they were so high that I had to have an internal ultrasound to check for "multiple fetus'" (SAY WHAT?!) early in my pregnancy.  I remember begging the ultrasound tech to tell me how many were in there, but she wasn't allowed, the doctor had to.  Finally I said, just blink for how many babies you see.  She turned the screen towards me and blinked once, and pointed to one dot.  Bless her.  I am sure we would have made due, and given thanks, for however many there were, but with a baby at home with CF, and possibly more on the way, I did feel overwhelmed.  And I have a small house!

We elected to have a repeat c-section with Taylor because not enough time had passed for me to forget the gory details of my birth with Bailey.  I walked in to Virtua on October 7, 2005, early in the morning, feeling so ready and so happy.  Taylor was born at 8:11am - our anniversary is 8/11 so I thought that was really neat.  We were both able to see her be born, something we did not take lightly since neither Kevin nor I saw Bailey.  They handed her to me, I was crying of course, and first I noticed she had Kevin's ears, and oh my the chin!!  She had a deep cleft in her chin, just like her daddy.  I remember saying, she doesn't look like Bailey!  As I had expected my second girl I guess to be a clone.  And I remember saying Thank you God over and over, and that she was so beautiful.  I still say thank you God, and I still say she is so beautiful, all the time, every day.

In the hospital, touched with a bit of jaundice, I said "you are just our perfect little sweet potato aren't you?  You're our Tater Tot" and it just stuck.  And it suits her.  She is my Hottie Tottie, my Tater Tot, my Taters.  She is JOY she is FUN she is a DELIGHT.  And typing these words is my delight, because there was a time I couldn't have said that honestly.

When Taylor was a week or two old, she started crying, for hours, every day.  She actually slept well at night, thank the good Lord as I think I would have "run crying for the hills" - an expression my mom uses.  Nothing we did brought her relief.  They said it was colic, then acid reflux....she grew older and was still crying so as a toddler we took her to CHOP for an x-ray and diagnostic testing (she was perfect), to an ENT (who said she had polyps on her vocal cords from all of her screaming/crying..hence her raspy voice...but was fine otherwise).  We took her for allergy testing (she is only allergic to white birch trees), we took her to a gastro-intestinal specialist.  Nothing was internally wrong with her that would be causing her pain.

One Sunday night in February of 2009, Taylor was 3 years old, I googled "behavioral therapy for toddlers in Marlton NJ" as I started to believe the people that were saying it was behavioral.  That she was just stronger than me, that she "ruled the roost."  I knew in my heart they were wrong, that something was wrong, but I really didn't think she was autistic so what was it?!  There at the top of my search was a listing for Sensational Kids in Marlton.  They were giving free workshops THAT VERY WEEK on sensory disorders.  I googled sensory disorder and I KNEW I found something.  I went the next evening to their workshop and cried my way through it.  It was Taylor, all of it. I felt the weight of the world on me, and yet the weight of the world lifted.  I felt such distress that HERE IT WAS THE WHOLE TIME and yet such relief that IT had a name.

We enrolled her immediately in therapy through Sensational Kids.  We then started the process of having her evaluated through the school system to get her services.  She went to Sensational Kids twice a week until the start of the school year in September, where she was to attend the disability pre-school.  She was in a class of 7 children with a special education teacher (I wanted her to move into my house but she said something about boundaries), 2 amazing aides, and she received speech, occupational and physical therapy.  What a great district we are blessed to live in.  She was in that classroom for 2 years, and then the disability kindergarten for half the day and "normal" for the other half.  Then for 1st, 2nd and now 3rd grade she has been and is in an inclusion class, containing both children that are "normal" and kids that need a bit of extra help.  Next year she will not be, as it was this year they really thought she was ready to move to normal.

When she was 3, and I toured the preschool for the first time, I remember walking into the school and seeing a group of children walking to recess.  One girl was in the back, all by herself.  I prayed, with tears streaming down my face, please God bless that girl.  And please, please God don't let my child be her.  Please help her so she can have friends.  I couldn't even envision Taylor caring about friends, as she only was bonded to her family and wanted nothing to do with anyone else.  Playdates were torture - she'd hide in the bathroom, under tables or cling to me around my neck, her face buried so she didn't even have to look at anyone.  Meanwhile my other kid LIVED for playdates.  I longed to be like the other mothers, children happily playing, seemingly not a care in the world as they sipped their coffee.   Instead I had one kid that had to do treatments twice a day because she had a beast in her body that they say will kill her, and another kid who cried incessantly and hated life.   I felt sorry for myself.

To say I am thankful for all of the services she has received to develop coping and social skills, is an understatement.  To say I am proud of my daughter is an understatement.  To say I am in love with my child is another understatement.  My heart is just bursting with gratitude and joy for this girl.  She has come so far, and taught me much along the way.  She taught me to trust my gut.  She taught me patience.  She taught me that God answers prayers in His time, in His way.  I still don't understand God...I know there are children for which it appears healing never comes.  I don't know why.  But for our family, in this instance, God led us to health for our child.  Because of this, I have more hope when I pray for healing for my other child.

When Taylor was 4, she had her first school dance.  She clung to me and wouldn't set a toe down.  She hid her eyes on my chest and covered her ears.  And cried.  I couldn't leave, as Bailey was having the time of her life.  As we often did, Kevin drove separately and so brought her home.  I remember watching her leave, her daddy carrying her, and being so sad.

Last year at the school dance Taylor had a little following of friends follow her around, and she won a dance contest.  SHE WON A DANCE CONTEST.   The same kid who wouldn't set a toe on the gym floor.


I love you so much Tater Tot

Wednesday, October 1, 2014


My firstborn is about to be 11 years old.  Ahhhh.

At 23 years old, we thought we would wait longer having children.  Kevin and I were both working full time and taking masters classes.   I was pregnant with Bailey but didn't know it when we wrote up a "5 year plan" complete with what countries we'd visit (countries!!) on a weekend get-away in February of 2003.   Several days later, laying in my bed one morning counting how many days it had been since my last period (40-something), I decided I should take a test.  Ran to CVS and took it, then peeked at it while I was in the shower and promptly slipped and fell.  I still have a picture of the bruise from my hip from that fall.  I remember sitting on the shower floor, wondering if ALREADY I did something bad to my baby - I had gone snow tubing on our weekend away and now I fell?!

There was no cute way of telling the daddy.  I called him in a panic, my mom and best friend too.  Took a few more tests that day and swung by Labcorp for a blood test ordered by my doctor, who also got a panicked phone call.  I somehow managed to work, and I remember on my way home (can't remember if it was that day or the next?) I called the doctor's office AGAIN asking if they had the results yet.  The receptionist, who by now knew me and was laughing at me I am sure, said, "Hi Mommy" when I asked if the result was in yet.  I remember where I was, and I remember pulling over and crying.  By that point I was so happy.  I realized how much I wanted to be pregnant, regardless of our "plan."   This plan was better.

Pregnancy was not fun, as I was often sick, but I loved seeing my stomach grow and feel her move.  She was in utero how she is now...she'd find a spot and stay there, for a long time.  Sometimes I'd get nervous and try to bounce her around to feel her kick.  If someone wanted to feel her, by the time they'd put their hand on my stomach she was over it and not kicking anymore.

Our due date was October 18.  I had to see a specialist with Bailey because they thought I had a blood condition (which is why I wasn't on the pill - we practiced the "you can run but you can't hide" method).  In late September the specialist noticed my amniotic fluid level kept decreasing.  I wasn't leaking fluid, but there it was, less and less.  On October 2 I was admitted to be induced.  Kevin and I went to dinner first, I wore a nice outfit (why?) and checked in.  They put Cervadil in me and gave me Ambien, which didn't work I was up all night.  We played cards at one point I remember.  In the morning, her head hadn't even dropped, I hadn't dialated at all...we should have done a C-section.  But no...I took Bradley classes for 12 weeks, I wanted to go all natural.  I didn't want my baby having a drop of drug.

Shit got real.  A long story short (because I've already managed to go on and on) after a day of full pitocin, non stop contractions with no dialation, that evening I finally got an epidural.  Then I said my sorries and finally breathed.   A few hours later, her fluid even less, they said it wasn't a choice anymore, I had to do an emergency c-section.  I wasn't feeling well by this point (going through hell will do that to you) and had started to dry heave.  They ended up knocking me out, giving me general anesthesia to deliver.  It still breaks my heart that neither Kevin or I got to see our baby be born.  When I woke I was still so loopy but I faked being normal because I so desperately wanted to hold her.  She was so perfect.  She had Kevin's ears, thank goodness!!  And a perfect little face, little body... I just couldn't believe that something so perfect came out of me.

I was in love and I still am.  I still can't believe something so perfect came out of me.  I feel so honored that God used me as the vehicle to bring this amazing child into this world.  I can't believe she is mine still.

Her heel prick test came back flagged a few weeks later, for Cystic Fibrosis.  What is that?  Is that like CP, Cerebral Palsy?!  She looks perfect!  After we had gone home from delivering, we had to check back in for a night because of her bilirubin count.  I thought THAT was hard!  They had to access her vein at the top of her head, I had to fight to continue breast feeding, I had to see her be in an incubator, not my arms.  But this, this was hard.  Researching CF, taking her to get 3 sweat tests done, all inconclusive, before finally getting a blood test done (that is more expensive so of course insurance didn't want to do it first).  Then the call.  Holding my baby, saying over and over, "but she's perfect!  She looks perfect!"

I still do that sometimes.  I don't hold her while I say that, cry that I should say, but in my head, in my heart, I still fight her diagnosis.  But she's perfect, she looks perfect.  Not my baby please God not my baby.

But then I see her, I really see her, not through eyes of fear.  I see the delightful child she was, and the young woman she is becoming.  I see her youthful spirit but a wisdom beyond her years.  I see a girl that says I have CF but CF doesn't have me.  She is strong, she is kind, she is able, she is here.

She is mine.

Happy birthday love.  Thank you for being my girl.  Thank you for being my teacher, my hand-holder, my inspiration.  I love you so much it hurts.

11 years.  Thank you God.

Monday, April 28, 2014

double duty

I actually wrote for over an hour, composing a blog post that is not even done.   I started to get overwhelmed with it, so I saved it and here I am going to write about something else entirely.

Double duty meals.

I was talking with a few girlfriends this weekend about how much I love prepping and cooking meals.  My habit is to do bigger shopping trips every other week, with a weekly catch up trip for that week's deals with coupons and fresh produce.  They were surprised I think with how much I like it, but in thinking about it, I realized it's because I feel efficient and productive.  And I love when my family enjoys what I make.  My dream is to have an entire weeks worth of meals that all 4 of us eat happily, with no complaint.  But as it is, half the time I make the kids something else or they eat cereal.  I have bigger battles, people.

So here is our menu for the week.  I double duty almost everything I ever make.  Meaning whatever I cook, I plan a different meal out of the leftovers.

Monday - creamy homemade chicken soup.  I used leftover rotisserie chicken, that was from a meal I had served last week of chicken, potatoes, veggies.  I froze the chicken along with the veggies.  So today I made a roux of butter, diced onion and flour, added homemade broth and milk, tossed in leftover brown rice and the frozen chicken and veggies.  Took 15 minutes start to finish and it's ready to reheat tonight.  I made this meal this morning as I cleaned the kitchen from breakfast.  The kids will eat this but will pick out and bitch about all the veggies.  They will also have banana or applesauce and I'll make biscuits.

Tuesday - spicy italian chicken sausage links in homemade tomato sauce, pasta and salad.  I'll double the sauce so I have leftovers, and cook more sausage than we need, reserving for later this week.  The kids will not have any sausage, they only eat chicken, eggs and fish sticks.  If one morsel of the sausage gets in their mouths they'll gag and cry.  So they'll have plain pasta and use jarred tomato sauce bc mine is too full of "chunks" for their taste.

Wednesday - shredded bbq pork in the crockpot, cole slaw (for me - no one else will eat this), roasted potatoes.  The kids will have something else, not sure what, but quick and not heavy bc Tate has softball. Will make extra pork, remove before adding sauce and freeze it.

Thursday - Sausage sandwiches using the leftover sausage, adding roasted onions, mushrooms and red peppers.  I used these ingredients in my sauce earlier in the week and saved some to roast.  Fresh rolls, with cheese for Kevin.  Rest of the salad from Tuesday as the side.  Breakfast for dinner for kids - eggs, toast, turkey bacon.   Bailey can cook the breakfast mostly by herself and she will be happy I'm not crowding her bc I really only need to saute the veggies and toast the rolls for Kevin and I.  She will, however, complain about the smell of the peppers and onions.  Another softball night, so it's good this will take 20 minutes if that.

Friday -  SOFTBALL AGAIN.  Will feed kids before softball but Kevin and I will do a date-night-in when they go to bed.  I have steak in the freezer, I will throw it on the grill with asparagus (if it's not too expensive at the store today - substitute is frozen green beans) and cook slices of leftover cooked potato from Wednesday.  Reserve rest of steak for wraps during the weekend.   Meal will take only a few minutes to prepare.

Almost every single time I make meat I think about how I can use it again for something different.  Really, I do that with a lot of ingredients like fresh veggies, rice, pasta.  I plan a broad menu plan each month, meaning I plan what meals we want to have based on sales and items we already have, but I don't plug it into a day of the week until each Monday morning beforehand.  Weekends I don't plan, we have leftovers, eat out or eat quick things like grilled cheese and tomato soup.

So there it is - I filled my blog post goal for today of actually posting something, and avoided the emotional toll the other post was taking on me :)  Win-win.

Monday, March 17, 2014

things I write about

So basically this blog is about -

motherhood.  all of it.  the good, the bad, the ugly and the funny.

Bailey's Cystic Fibrosis and Taylor's SPD - their trials and their victories over these "special needs."

my marriage.

my faith.

my weight.



I think that's it, seriously.  I am a part time social worker by profession and although I have lots of great stories, I don't feel comfortable sharing, even with fake names.  It's a shame...also, I have a lot of great family stories but I think I would get in trouble.  Like, deep, deep trouble.  I wouldn't want my finer moments written down in a blog (even if only 5 people read it) so I get it.  The older the girls get, the more I am starting to become mindful of this for them too.

So here, on this Monday morning, what do I have to write about.  We had a delayed opening due to snow (which is so pretty, I am trying to see the positive in it).  This past weekend was awesome, with lots of playing, great weather, great friends, good food, wonderful service at church, precious family time.  I have nothing to complain about today (other than my back which is killing me, Bailey and I are seeing the chiro tonight thank goodness).  I feel really, really blessed knowing I kissed my husband off to a job that supports us, my children off to a school where I know they are taught and loved.   I know so many others today are hurting...and I am grievous that there is such pain in this world.  It finds all of us, at different times, in different ways.  Today is not my day for sorrow, and for that I am thankful.

I hope that you have a good day today.  What do you want me to write about?  If someone lets me know a topic, I will write on that.


Friday, March 7, 2014

facing fears

What are you scared of?

I can list several things right off the top of my head.  Losing my children is #1, by far.  That really goes without saying.  Sometimes, my mind wanders, and the nightmares that I know other people have experienced in this life renders me sick to my stomach and leaving me basically begging God to spare us that.   Because of Bailey's CF, I think about this more than I'd like to.  This past year I have joined a few CF facebook groups, for information and fellowship, but at times I wonder if I should leave the groups, as often there are postings about children, teens and adults who have lost their battle to CF.  Yes, my biggest fear is living through the loss of either of the 2 best things that have ever happened to me.  Losing Kevin too is a fear that makes me ill to think of it.  He's my best friend, beloved husband, team mate, sweetheart.   I will only be able to handle losing him if I myself am senile, and I wonder what happened to the nice old man that used to be my roommate?

I have far less serious fears too, relatively anyway.  Fears like what if my girls move far away from me?  What if they don't get along as adults?  What if I can't handle having an empty nest and I actually do lose my mind?  What if I can never lose this weight?  What if we can't help the kids afford college and weddings?  Will we ever not owe CHOP money, and will Bailey be able to always have affordable healthcare?  What if Parenthood/Greys Anatomy/Law and Order/Modern Family goes off the air?

And the one that has been plaguing me as of late...what if I make the wrong choice.

I am really wondering about next steps.  I feel like God has been showing me over and over that He has something else planned for me.  But I don't know exactly what or how or when.  It's scary!  I think I know what I need to do, want to do, but I'm scared I'll make the wrong move and regret it.

God keeps showing me signs.  He doesn't have to, but He is.  I can just picture Him up there, thinking "oh for the love of myself, when will this girl get it?!"  But I'm scared.

So in my quest to take on some life changes this year, I am going to try really hard to be less fearful.  To not double check my parachute 5,000 times before jumping.