If this is a Concussion, I'll Take It

I'm rather old fashioned, and I was raised to believe that Easter is that wonderful Sunday when you can start wearing white shoes and you should get a new Easter dress. However, this year Easter Sunday happens to coincide with our church's General Conference. So planning ahead, because I do that also, I told Emily we would go Easter dress shopping last Thursday. My plan was she could wear her dress a week early because of conference.

But, when I called her at 3:15 on Thursday, she told me she had forgotten and rode the bus home. OK, no big deal, she is 14 and dyed blond, so she is entitled to forget a few things. I went home to pick her up and take her back into the church for a dance practice for a regional dance thing this summer, we were running late so dinner was Taco Bell. While on our way to dance I asked her about forgetting to stay after, "Well," she said,"After the basketball, everything went blurry and I just forgot things." What??? "Oh, didn't I tell you? I walked in the gym today for weights class, and a boy had kicked a basketball from clear across the gym. It hit me right on the top of my head, everything went fuzzy and I got really dizzy. Then I got a headache." So I asked, "What did the coach do?" "Well, he didn't make me run the bleachers." she replied.

After two hours I picked her up and she informed me that Taco Bell before dance practice was not a good idea. Whatever!!!

Anyway, at 1:15 am, she stumbled into my bedroom and informed her father and I that she had just thrown up. Now, I didn't go to medical school, and I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I did start putting it all together...bump on the head, dizzy, nausea, and vomiting...no don't tell me, hey I think my daughter has a concussion.

Yeah, her coach confirmed on Friday, "She got hit really hard, I tried to get her to go to the nurse."

Anyway, I think the only damage, (besides her ipod, which was not vomit proof), was a few algebraic variables. But tonight when I went into her bedroom to talk to her, I noticed that her bed was made...Emily NEVER makes her bed. It must be the concussion, it's the only explanation.

What the???!!!! Son of a...

2:00 am - Sunday Morning, I woke up and thought, where is my phone? I took it out of my pocket before I threw the smoky clothes in the washer...right? Yeah, I must have, I was in the kitchen and I realized my battery was low, I'm sure I put it on the counter.

Fast forward approximately 6 hours, and sure enough...I found it, in the bottom of my washer. Now, I don't have one of those fancy internet phones. It was just an old NV that I have had for almost 2 years, but that phone is like an extension of my right hand! Suddenly, I was without my contacts, my text buddies, my calendar. I didn't know who I was, where I needed to be, and I couldn't find any of my friends.

That was how my Sunday started out. Then I went to church...that didn't improve my mood. It is a good thing my faith doesn't require me to like my fellow church goers. But seriously don't quote Sherry Dew as a source in a Relief Society Lesson, it ticks me off.

Anyway, I was without my phone for about 46 hours. I did qualify for an upgrade from my provider, unfortunately the new NV requires more commitment than I was willing to make. So I settled for a Samsung, and now I am not happy. I don't know how to work this phone, it doesn't have my contacts, I don't know the shortcuts, and the keypad is all wrong.

We haven't bonded at all. I felt lost without my phone, so I hope this new relationship works out.

Stripes or Bars?

For two mornings in a row, on my way to work I have heard the Angel Flight song. It is a beautiful song and it reminds me of a dream I had about a year ago. But before I get to that I have to give a little background.

I always thought I would marry a cowboy, but it turns out I fell in love with a guy who wore combat boots instead of cowboy boots, BDU's instead of Wranglers. Between the time we got engaged and got married, Saddam Hussein decided that Kuwait was a plum little target and we got into the first Gulf War. My husband immediately volunteered to go to the sand box, but the US military decided keeping an eye on the Russians was more important for his squadron of AWACS. It was at that point that I realized what it meant to marry a man who had taken an oath to protect and defend the constitution of the United States, someday he may have to make good on that oath, and could I live with it? I realized then, as I have with many choices that you have to determine that course of action ahead of time. I could live with his decision, it wasn't my first choice, but it was necessary for the bigger picture. I was reading Thomas Paine a few weeks ago, he basically said, "I fight, so my children won't have to".

About a year ago I had a very vivid dream, I got a call telling me that my son, Erik, had been killed fighting in Afghanistan. Scott and I went to a base in the Midwest to collect his personal belongings. We were told how he had been killed, given the military flag, and went through the whole thing. I wasn't upset, only resigned. That was his choice, just like his father's. I was sad but realized the necessity of sacrifice. (I don't know if I will be that stoic in real life if it ever came to that)

When I woke up I told Scott my dream, he laid there for a few minutes and then said, "Was he wearing stripes or bars?"

So now when I hear that song, I always think of that dream, and what Thomas Paine said. I don't want to make the sacrifice of a loved one, but I can't ask others to do what my family isn't willing to. May the Lord bless and keep all those willing to sacrifice, regardless of stripes or bars.

Klondike

A few weeks ago I realized I had to at least offer my Webelos the chance to go up to the top of the Grand Mesa, walk around in 8 ft of snow and do activities that could be done on a nice sunny day, but that Scout leaders think is more fun in freezing cold. I emphasized how cold it was, that it was really designed for older Scouts, and that parents must accompany them. The bad news was I had two Webelos that were all for it. You see my son had the chance to go to Klondike two years ago, thanks to Jason. He came back vowing to never go again. So when two other Webelos decided they wanted to go, Scott's troop was going, and they had suckered Scott into doing the BB guns, I knew I had to get Erik to go, if only for appearances. So we had the following conversation:

Me: Erik...what would it take to get you to go to Klondike?

Erik: I am not going to Klondike, it is freezing up there. I hate walking around in the snow, I'm not going.

Me: Would you go to Klondike for a cell phone?

Erik: NO, I'm not going to Klondike! Are you trying to bribe me?

Me: What would you go up there for?

Erik: Well...I might go up there for a collection of Bakugans, but who am I kidding? You're not going to buy me those.

Me: (Desperate at this point) What do you consider a collection?

Erik: Oh, like 6.

Me: Done!

So we went, bear in mind that I turn the thermostat up to 80 when my co-worker is gone. We were the only Webelos pack there, and we trooped around all morning, climbing through 6-8 feet of snow. OK, I didn't think we would need snowshoes, and now I know better. I didn't realize how fast little boys could soak gloves, and now I know better. I didn't realize taking my 14 year old daughter to the Klondike wasn't a good idea, now I know better (think sugar addict in a candy store).

Now I'm wondering what Scott will have to use to bribe both Erik and I to go next year, because I am not going up to Klondike!

Pinewood Derby Goblins & Trophies

Well, this picture pretty much says it all! Erik finally placed in a Pinewood Derby. He took second in his division, but I don't think he would have been any more excited to win at Daytona!

Now about the Goblin... Last year our Pinewood was in January. Scott was still working rotating shifts as a police officer and had been up around 36 hours when Friday night rolled around. You see, we check weights and impound the cars on Friday night, then the race starts the next morning at 10. Well, last year we got home on that cold January night and discovered our house was freezing. The furnace had absolutely stopped. Scott was so tired, but we trudged upstairs, moved Erik's bed and climbed into the attic. He hit the reset a couple times, then ended up just standing there staring at it. I sent him to bed and called the service. Fortunately in this 24 hour world, they have service techs at 11:30 on a Friday night.

Fast forward to this year, we went to the weigh in, got home around 10:30 and...you guessed it, a cold house. I had no idea that a high efficiency furnace had a Pinewood Derby sensor.

Erik & Taylor Swift

The other night, on our way to scouts, Erik flipped on the radio, the voice gently came through the speakers and...my son looks at me. Accusingly he says, "Is this Taylor Swift?" I couldn't deny it, she is on all the time. He immediately switched the station.

You see, while the rest of my family thinks she's awesome, love her music, and hope she continues to not turn into Brittany Spears, my son has a dissenting opinion. I think he is the only person in America (outside the Jonas family) who doesn't adore Taylor Swift. I suggested he learn to like her, I told him she seemed to not be going anywhere soon. "I just can't stand her, she is such a poser." "A poser?" I asked. "Yeah! She's all like makeup and glitter, she's a diva."

OK, I'm not sure whether I should be concerned that my 10 year old son is using words like poser and diva, or that he doesn't like one of the cutest girls on CMT.

I Betrayed my Dudley!

Yes, it's true! You see a few weeks ago Scott and I loaded up the dogs and took them for shots (thank you madam dog catcher, for reminding me I hadn't got the licenses yet). While we were there the vet looked in Dudley's mouth and said he had a couple abscessed teeth. "Has he been cranky lately?" she asked. Seriously? This is Dudley, he usually is...

Fast forward a couple weeks and the surgery day arrived. It is amazing how an 85# dog can decide to lay down and feel like he weighs about 150#. Of course, Scott had already left for work and I got the sole responsibility...and blame!!!

I dropped him off at the vet and promptly returned after work. They had taken three teeth out, and he was still a little wobbly when I got there. I didn't even get a tail wag when he came out, he just stared at me like I had sold him down the river. I got him loaded in the proverbial mini van and tried to talk to him all the way home. Dudley has this thing that if he doesn't want to listen to you he turns away, as if to say "If I'm not looking directly at you, you don't exist." So all the way home he just stared out the back window of the van.

We got home, he jumped out, and I went in the house. I came out to call him in to lay down, and he hid behind a tree...ignoring me. I finally sent Emily out to bring him in, oh...he came in with her! Again, refusing to look at me. I poked my head in many times that night, he just stared at me. The next morning was more of the same. It seriously broke my heart...and my wallet!

Finally when I got home the next day, he appears to have forgiven me...or he just discovered that I had the pain pills.