People Who Can Make Decisions Will One Day Rule The World

The following scenario plays itself out several times a week at our house. It's what you get when opposites attract. When someone who can make a decision marries someone who can't make a decision. And I think, by the end, you'll be able to use us as a learning tool. It's our pleasure to serve as the example of "what NOT to do"........

BROOKS: Can we get a movie tonight?

US: Sure. Pick one out on Redbox.

CHUCK (to me): Do you want to get one too?

ME: Yes.

(Audience pauses, purses lips and nods, as if to say, "Ummm-hmmm....SHE'S the decisive one.)

CHUCK: How about "How Do You Know?" with Reese Witherspoon & Owen Wilson?

ME: Oooh, yes! I love them both! And Jack Nicholson. Get it.

(Audience shakes head because they know where this is going.)

CHUCK: There's also "Due Date". I was really thinking we would get that. With Robert Downey, Jr. and Zack Galifianakis.

ME: No. "How Do You Know?" Get it. I want to see that.

CHUCK: Well, I think this would be funny. You know, the same guy that was in "The Hangover" is in it.

ME: I thought we decided. I mean I decided because you asked me a "yes or no" question. If we're going to debate, we could get "The Switch" with Jennifer Aniston because you love her.

CHUCK: Yeahhhh (sucks air through his teeth to emphasize indecision), with Jason Bateman??? I don't know???? He's.....

ME: Reese & Owen are wonderful. Get "How Do I Know?"

(Audience begins to sense a pattern here....)

CHUCK: There's also that Russell Crowe movie.

ME: For the love of God, reserve "How Do I Know?"!!!!

CHUCK (clicks to reserve movie): Awww, hun, looks like someone beat us to it.....

ME: Really??? You're surprised at that???

All I'm saying is that people who can make decisions will someday rule the world. Do you want on my bus or his?

(Update: I hope you chose my bus, because clearly the Gods show me favor. Someone returned "How Do I Know?" before he got there. So, as usual, I got my way. That's also called "being rewarded for making a decision".)

True Grit OR The Gritting of Chuck's Teeth - You Choose

Wyatt's really become interested in the movie "True Grit". I can't remember what started the fascination but Oscar night really seemed to put him over the top. Chuck couldn't remember, from watching the John Wayne version YEARS ago, if it was inappropriate for an adolescent boy to watch or read. I tried to remind him that my love of Smokey & the Bandit started in 2nd grade when my dad gave in & let me watch, but that argument should have been thought through a bit more before I presented it. I also pointed out that he, their own father, let them watch "Cliffhanger" with Sylvester Stallone, which is NOT appropriate, perhaps for ANYONE! However, Chuck went ahead and used his handy Amazon One-Click app on the iPhone & ordered a copy of "True Grit". We went to lunch at Chip's last week & it arrived just before we left so he brought it with us.

(Here is where I reveal my lack of knowledge on the book/film.)

I'm driving. He's riding along reading OUT LOUD, which, if you know me really well, you know I hate being read to. Just give it to me & let me read it myself, usually, but I made an exception since I was behind the wheel. Safety first. Even before "things that irritate Noelle".

CHUCK (reading from book): "True Grit is when you are a 14-year-old girl from Yell County, Arkansas, and you've just shot a dangerous outlaw and the gun's recoil has sent you backward into a pit.........Tom Chaney shot my father down in Fort Smith, Arkansas......not far from Dardanelle in Yell County...."

ME (interrupting): Wait, it's set in Arkansas?? So the 14 yr.-old girl who was nominated & looked adorable in her gown, I might add, was the girl from True Grit? Hayley Steinfeld?

CHUCK (disapprovingly): Yes. Charles Portis, the author LIVES here.

ME: No need to get all huffy. My knowledge of this movie consists of this: John Wayne starred in the original & there was a character named Rooster Cogburn, who I'm assuming was played by John Wayne. And my dad liked it. That's all I got for ya.

CHUCK: Yes, John Wayne played Rooster Cogburn, a U.S. Marshal.

ME: I wonder if Rooster McConaughey is named after him?

CHUCK: WHOOOO???

ME: Rooster McConaughey. Starred in that oil rig show, Black Gold on A & E. You know, Matthew McConaughey's brother.

CHUCK: No. Don't know Rooster. This entire conversation is a waste of time, isn't it.

ME: Apparently.

And this is how many conversations go over here at Chaos Central. I will add that Chuck & Wyatt have been reading it together at bedtime & Wyatt is loving it. As is Chuck. So, appropriate or not, it's working for our house.

I wonder if one of them will watch Smokey & The Bandit with me this weekend. Not that I have it on DVD or anything.

The War on Drugs

I’m starting to sound like an old person, but…remember the good ole days? The days when you went to the doctor & got diagnosed with a specific illness & were given medicine to make you feel better. A shot in the ass perhaps that made you feel like a superhero or something to put you to sleep & maybe even induce hallucinations so you weren’t aware of who or where you were until you were well…

Our children don’t know that luxury, my friends. Nor do we, anymore.

In fact, these doctors today are just downright stingy with the good stuff. For example, just TRY to get some good cough syrup for your child. You know, CODEINE! This fall, during the Great Waverly Street Strep Epidemic, one of my kids developed a nighttime cough on top of having strep. I said to our pediatrician, “Remember when you prescribed Histex for Wyatt’s nighttime cough? We’re out and would like some more for Brooks. It’s handy to keep around.” I might as well have said, “Where can I score some smack, because we think it would help him sleep better?” She looked at me & said, “We would NEVER prescribe that anymore. It’s just caused by drainage from his nose (nevermind that his nose isn’t draining) & Claritin will do the trick.” I knew better. Oh, how I knew better. Wasted $15 on Claritin & guess who was still up coughing for many nights…. And it’s hilarious, by the way, that two years ago you doctors thought Histex was great, but suddenly if he takes it he could meet an early end???

But it wasn’t as humorous as the time one of my little darlings had the stomach virus. I mean, can we all agree that there is no greater hell on Earth with the exception of food poisoning & helping them do homework? It was fairly early in my parenting career and always making lighthearted, happy conversation I mentioned that I remembered as a child when my family doctor would give me this green stuff called “Corrective Mixture with Paregoric” & it was a cure, baby! Oh, how I wish we still had that option! It knocked you out and you woke up WELL & you didn’t remember much that had happened in the meantime. Oh, what a funny girl I think I am! Doctors do not laugh often enough. Apparently. Her head spun around and she stared at me with her steely, grey eyes & you would have thought I said, “Sometimes we take the kids camping and for fun we sacrifice goats to the glory of Tony Alamo & his followers while speaking in tongues! That’s the kind of parents WE are!” She said, “Do you KNOW that’s a derivative of OPIUM? Which is basically a form of heroin, you know!” Now I didn’t say, what went through my head, which was, “Dude! I did heroin at age FIVE??? Word! And everyone thought I was such an ANGEL! I was way ahead of Slash!” I just said, “Well, I guess that’s why it put us out of our misery! So they don’t make it anymore?” She was not amused. My child ended up getting Phenergan that you apply to the wrist & was soon resting peacefully. But not as peacefully or joyfully as I once was.

Soooo……imagine the next time one of my kids was spewing at both ends. What does “innocent mother Noelle” do? Of course, she wears her “Just say no to the hard stuff!” button to the doctor and requests some Phenergan. And I kid you not, I get, “Oh, we’re trying to get away from Phenergan because it’s just so strong and knocks them out so now we try to give Zofran. They don’t get as sleepy and aren’t knocked out for as long.” And right then & there I want to scream, “HOW in the HELL am I supposed to get the laundry done, people???” I mean let’s make this a win-win! I have time and peace to clean ALL the soiled bedding while they lie on the couch & hallucinate rainbows. Apparently not. The last time one of my kids had the stomach virus the doctor assured me that they needed to get all “yucky germs” (aka puke & poop in layman’s terms) out of their system to get better. First of all, by the time most of us get an appointment the kid is down to dry heaving anyway. And I got better when the “paregoric/heroin” was coursing through my veins & it stopped that stuff in it’s tracks. I call bullshit.

Now, you know what this means? Most annoying of all is that you irritating people out there, you people who utter the phrase, “Oh, I don’t like to take medicine! I can tough it out!” or “I don’t like to put medicine/chemicals/WHATEVER in my body!” now have an army of allies in the medical field! They have totally taken your side! And they look at us like we walked in with arms tied up ready to inject our next fix, LOSERS THAT WE ARE. And some of us, quite frankly, want our drugs. Am I alone here?

And then she renamed the blog "Dear Abby".....

(He's not blind & I'm not leading him! It just appears that way in this photo.)

The other night, I was telling Chuck that I'm not entirely sure what unintentionally misleading image I have been projecting on Facebook & my blog, but some of my disciples , followers , OK, FRIENDS, have sent me messages asking my advice on being happily married. Yes, apparently, Chuck & I are the Ward & June Cleaver of the internet. HA! Chuck's response was "Did you tell them to marry someone who gets paid well so you don't have to work & carry all that additional stress into our lives & someone who also doesn't mind folding laundry while their spouse lies in bed eating fried cheese & reading autobiographies of washed-up rock musicians?" And I said, "No. Do we know someone who does that? And, uh, do you know how to get ketchup stains out of these nice, percale sheets?"

Seriously, though, when I look all around me I see people whose marriages are under a tremendous amount of strain or they're coming apart at the seams & we seem to be plugging right along. It is NOT always easy, so please don't think our life is stress-free. The fact that Chuck made it through the winter without throwing up his hands in surrender or chugging whiskey at the Town Pump is a miracle in & of itself. On top of that, the boy bought me diamonds, but life ain't always a party over here at Chaos Central. If you could rewrite Randy Houser's "Thank God He Made A Woman Love A Man Like Me" to be from the opposite perspective, it would be "our song" because not a day passes that I don't stop & think I'm REALLY lucky that he puts up with some of my crap. But at the end of the day, we seem to be a good fit.

I'm not so sure we hold any secret to being happy & it might best be summed up as "ignorance is bliss" but I'll give it my best shot to be of some help to those few of you who were curious. I accept no liability if you end up in divorce court after taking this advice, but I'll be happy to direct you to my friends who are attorneys & need the cash.

1) LAUGHTER & LETTING IT GO: We laugh off A LOT. We don't take ourselves too seriously EVER. And we're pretty good at finding the humor in most any situation. I have a friend that called me once near tears because she & her significant other were lost & had unknowingly booked a hotel in the bad part of the city they were visiting. They were at each other's throats & about to let it ruin the entire vacation & all I could think was how Chuck & I would be laughing hysterically & viewing it as an adventure. Another friend was telling me something she was arguing about with her husband the other day & I said, "You know what? That wouldn't even be an issue in our marriage because it's just too insignificant to get angry over." So laugh, people. And don't sweat the small stuff.

2) TRUST: Simple, really. We trust each other. I've never looked at his e-mail or nosed through his phone because I don't need to. Jealousy & possessiveness have no place in a marriage & it's just not something either of us makes the other deal with. That's not to say that we're naive enough to think the other one doesn't notice someone else now & then (if you say you don't you are soooo lying!) but we know our limits & we know where our loyalties lie. I can fawn over Tom Brady. He can fawn over Pam Anderson & Jennifer Garner (strange taste in women, the man has!). He knows if I walk into the pool & he's surrounded by my girlfriends, I don't care. I've come home from the grocery store & said, "Oh, I saw the 1st runner-up to Mrs. Chuck Buttry (who I know he thinks is hot). Glad I've been able to fulfill my duties so she doesn't have to step in!" Jealousy is a waste, my friends. A waste. And I realize that some very trusting people have been burned, but really, what would being jealous have changed? NOTHING. It's not a sin to look (unless you're Jimmy Carter) but it is a sin to act on it. And generally if you're jealous & possessive, it's your own insecurities talking.

3) SEX: Oh, God no. She's going THERE. Yes, yes she is..... Have sex with your spouse, people. Early and often. Or late in the evening. Doesn't matter. Just do it. That's why you got married. Unless you married for money & then I guarantee you'll get more of that if you have more sex. With your spouse, of course. (My Dad just said, "Oh my God. I can't believe she wrote that. What have I raised?" Word for word. Guarantee it.) A friend gave me advice a few years after our first child was born. It was during that period where you'd rather your husband come at you with a machete than any part of his body. She said, "If your husband gets some 3 x a week, your life will change & he'll overlook a lot more. Especially the checkbook." You know, SHE WAS RIGHT. I had never thought of it in that manner, but the mood change is amazing. The way to a man's heart is NOT through his stomach. Keep him happy. (You may now get off the floor, Dad.)

4) SPEND TIME ALONE TOGETHER: You can be in a hotel room across town or on an island in the Caribbean. Doesn't matter. We try to leave town 2 x a year, at least overnight. This year, in fact, Chuck & I decided to get smart and send the kids away on trips for spring break & stay home by ourselves to get some things done around the house. (This could backfire on us since we're taking on household projects!) You can also go to lunch together, dinner together, a movie, out with another couple - just somewhere away from the kids and the daily grind. Your relationship needs this. And try not to talk about work or kids. And if you do happen to be in a hotel room, refer to #3.

5)LIVE BENEATH YOUR MEANS: When Chuck & I first got married we fell into the same trap most young marrieds do, thinking we had to have two new cars, nice apartment, leather couch, ugly graphic china that we eventually sold at a garage sale, you know, all the trappings of the early 90's....We don't think that way anymore. Chuck has driven the same car for 15 years & we still live in the small, allegedly 1700 sq. ft. house that we bought when Ryder was two & our only child. It's three bedrooms and we have three kids, which means two of them share a room. Sometimes that's fun. Fun in the same manner that having a tooth extracted is fun, or perhaps, getting your pinkie caught in a meat grinder. Would we like a bigger home? Oh, yes, Noelle would. One with a big pool & a closet for her shoes too, just like you see in magazines! But not if it keeps us from being able to go to the beach, put our kids in the schools we choose, or forces me to go back to work outside the home. Or splurge on the occasional Lilly dress. My point is, we've learned what our priorities are & "living big" is not one of them. We've seen too many friends/acquaintances split up soon after moving up to the big giant house & 2 SUV's in the driveway. Don't get me wrong. Some can afford it. But if you can't do it comfortably, don't do it at all. And certainly don't do it to impress anyone. Your marriage will suffer from the strain.

6) Find someone who likes to fold laundry while you lie in bed eating fried cheese & reading autobiographies of washed-up rock musicians. Couldn't hurt. Might help.

I probably just cursed myself & will be divorced in a year! Time will tell.

Happy Love Day

(Photo taken looking out of shower, 2011)

Aaaah, tomorrow is Valentine's Day. When I was in school it was my favorite holiday. OK, just in 1st and 2nd grade it was my favorite holiday because I was Valentine Queen and Princess, respectively. Those were the last times I legitimately held a crown, I might add. Legitimately. I've taken part in many a coup. If for any reason the new guy can't handle Egypt, I'm in. Since 2nd grade, I've pretty much HATED Valentine's Day. I mean in elementary school, there was the pressure as to who was going to give you the one Valentine in the box that was "romantic". Kudos to you, Bryan Bates for "Let's Be Love Birds, ok?" It made my 2nd grade year. And then the worry of whether your box was the prettiest? Did anyone leave you out? My kids just get 'em out and sign 'em and I'm like, "Dude, ANALYZE these? Do you know what this one right here means to the right person???" And usually, they just stare at me puzzled. I get that ALOT so I'm used to it.

Later on, when we were in jr. high school, if you remember, you had to be sure you were "going with" someone so that you'd have a date at the boy/girl party someone was BOUND to throw. And you'd get in on a spirited game of "spin the bottle". In high school, there was the dreaded, "What did you get for Valentine's Day? Not a Spiedel id bracelet?? Is it not ENGRAVED? Did he at least give you his class ring last night? No??? Dump him!" The PRESSURE! Ugh! My only memory of a Valentine's Day during college involves me getting a dozen roses and thanking the wrong guy. (Yes, it was Chuck who actually sent them, attempting to win my heart back. Took a hell of a lot more than roses.)

The last Valentine's Day I even remember was my favorite one ever. Chuck had moved to Kansas City in '92 & I was getting ready to move in with him that May, at HIS invitation, so I went up for the weekend. SHHHHH, now! In some countries and some churches in Bernie, it's still ILLEGAL (ok, frowned upon) to shack up. Or at least I'm assuming that's why my MIL stood up in front of her church & asked for us to be lifted up in prayer for living in sin. Preferably after we got dressed. Don't lift us up naked, please. But I digress....

Anyway, I went to Kansas to see Chuck and when I got there he had flowers and gifts and had painstakingly cooked me spaghetti bolognese, salad, bread.....the whole 9 yards.....He even had candles, hot lingerie (ok, I threw that one in for effect - don't actually remember) & we stayed in for the entire night. And I slept on the couch, people. Don't go thinking I was all SLUTTY at 22. PLEASE....My grandma totally believed I slept on the couch the year we lived together, why can't YOU? What I'm trying to say is that I'm 42 years old and that's the last Valentine's Day I remember specifically. But I certainly remember lots of other nights and occasions where he romanced me, cooked for me and bought me hot lingerie (you CAN be slutty at FORTY-two as long as you're with your man, young 'uns). Anyway, I have a point, believe it or not. Hang tight.

And it's this.....we've never really been into Valentine's Day because who wants to go out with every other couple in town and wait for a table? Sometimes we get each other cards, he usually lets the kids pick out a gift for me and occasionally it might still involve hot lingerie. (Not from the kids.) Or flannel pj pants. Or my old Huey Lewis t-shirt and some sweats. I guess we kind of outgrew it. Because we have plenty of moments throughout the year when we dine out, I tuck a card in his suitcase, he picks me up some flowers, etc. And to me that's as good as planning to do it on February 14th, if not better, because it's not expected. So you won't find me in a huff if I don't have a card tomorrow. Or chocolate. Or flowers. This year we went to see Kid Rock & Jamey Johnson & said, "We'll let that be our Valentine's date." Cause nothin' says "I love you" like watching your middle-aged wife fawn over a sweaty rocker. Couldn't have been better. Well, actually it could have. He made me leave before the ENCORE.

Next holiday to rip - Mother's Day. Just you wait....

Is It Good If Your Brain MRI Shows "Nothing"??

For those of you who read my blog, follow me on Facebook or happen to find yourself in the unfortunate situation of being backed against the wall when I'm rambling non-stop, you may know that since our vacation in July of this year, Chuck has had some dizziness issues. The first episode was a full-blown vertigo attack on St. George Island, FL which resulted in him being transported by ambulance to the tiniest hospital in North America in Apalachicola and put out of his misery. With Phenergan - they didn't shoot him, although I doubt he would have minded. (The photo above was taken an hour or two before his collapse. Didn't see it coming.) The doctors chalked it up to Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo, which, loosely translated, means "We have no fucking clue why you're dizzy but it makes us sound smart." He went to a specialist back in Little Rock, who said, "You'll be fine. Probably just need to go on some long walks and look up and around while you're walking." Clearly it was a doctor who isn't aware of my husband's clumsy gene & wasn't here when Chuck attempted to walk down the two steps to our tiny den BEFORE he was stricken with this condition to show our neighbor a family photo. He fell FLAT on his ass right in front of her, for NO apparent reason. The man can't walk looking straight ahead. Let alone outside near moving cars & skateboarding youngsters. Uh, no. New solution, please.

It went away for a while, for no obvious reason. And then near Halloween, he came down with strep and a sinus infection and it reared it's ugly head. Not nearly as bad, mind you. No hospital visits, vomiting or the inability to even lift his head. Just some dizziness. Pretty severe, but not vertigo. Back to the specialist who decides a battery of tests are now in order. He passed 'em with flying colors. Basically, "If you didn't have a problem with these tests, you are normal. Go on more long walks. No need for brain scan. Pffft! Pay me your co-pay so I can head to the Caymans and you go live your life." And this is where I lost it. I insisted he go back to his family doctor and demand a scan of his head/brain. I mean SOMETHING has to be causing him to be dizzy, right? Other than my raving beauty, long legs & ability to cook good food. This doesn't just happen for no reason. Right?

So, the MRI is scheduled. Of course not for a week or so, which gives me time to Google (I know! I know! SHUT UP!) things like:

*terminal illnesses with dizziness as symptom

*symptoms of brain tumors

*glioma, adenoma, medulloblastoma

*symptoms of deadly brain diseases

*diseases that sneak up & strike you dead

*what could possibly be causing dizziness in a hot, middle-aged consultant?

*images of Tom Brady

Ok, that last one was an attempt to distract myself from my fears that were sort of consuming me.

Every time I looked at Chuck, I thought:

*A year.... at most we have a year...or two if we're lucky.

*How will I raise the kids alone?

*I can't drive to two practices in one night.

*He's going to suffer & I'd rather it be me & I can't handle this.

*Hell, I can't handle Sonic forgetting my pickles...

Hey, guys, let's play "You name a doomsday scenario - I'll paint you a picture!" And Chuck, always calm & RATIONAL, would just say, "I have good life insurance, honey." WTF? Who cares about that? I mean it's smart & nice to have but I want YOU! What fun is a pool without you in it?

Cut to the MRI. I go with him for no other reason than to be with him every step of this long, painful, journey that I'm convinced is going to start here & end with a casket spray of lilies & some band playing a bluegrass tune about heaven or angels or something equally depressing. Chuck, however, never gets upset about much. Or I should say, he's the type of guy who will completely lose his SHIT over a light being left on in an empty room or the dishes not being loaded PROPERLY but not, let's say, the possibility of imminent death. That's just him. So we're sitting there filling out the paper work & he's joking about everything being asked of him on the medical history.

HIM: Difficulty urinating?

ME: No. It takes 2 additional hours to get to Florida just adding in your bathroom stops. And costs us an additional $125 in snack food for me & the kids from the convenience stores we stop at while waiting for you. Often? Yes. Difficulty? I'd say no, but why are you asking me?

HIM: Gastrointestinal issues?

ME: 3 big tacos, cheese dip and a couple of Coronas is NOT what they're referring to. You're fine there too.

HIM: Blood pressure?

ME: Usually normal when you're not around me. Then it tends to rise.

HIM: Am I allergic to latex? I have no clue. How would I know?

ME: Well, I realize it's been a while, but have you ever broken out after wearing a condom?

HIM: Well, a few times.

ME: WHAT?? YOU HAVE????

HIM: Well, yeah, you know that.

ME: I did NOT know that. Never saw it. When???

HIM: You did too. You were scared you were pregnant!

ME: Broken out in a RASH silly, not had the condom BREAK. What would that prove?

HIM: Oh, NO! I haven't! No rashes! Ever!

ME: Then you're probably not allergic to latex.

And that is where the tension I had been feeling temporarily left my body and he again used his uncanny gift to make me die laughing about 5 minutes before the tech called him back. In fact we couldn't stop laughing. And this is why I love us.

And guess what? The MRI showed nothing but a completely normal brain. No aneurysms, clots, cysts, tumors or anything that could be causing his problems. Which is great. I went to bed very happy and content that night. Except it's still frustrating to NOT know why it's happening. But it's a huge comfort to know that as far as his brain goes, he's just fine. Lately it's only been happening here at home so I'm about to decide it's just the raving beauty & long legs ;) And I don't even charge a co-pay.

Then We'll Get Back To Happy Things....

A few months ago one of my Facebook friends posted a quote that said something to the effect of "Sometimes the people who seem the happiest of all, actually aren't." It jumped out at me because at the time I was going through a very difficult time. A very difficult time that no one but Chuck, my amazingly supportive husband, knew about. And surprisingly, that time was October - December of this year. Oh, eventually the children picked up on things because I spent nearly all of my time in my room, lying in or on the bed. But no one in the "outside world" saw anything but the hilarious chaos that comes through in my Facebook posts. My life seemed great to everyone else - I had lost weight, was running, business was going well, Chuck & I had a couple of nights away from it all, we got Apollo, etc. And that stuff did really happen. But at the time, I was doing some careful editing of what I released to my friends & followers.

After the birth of my first child (not immediately, but several months after), I experienced a case of mild depression that I attribute today to not having a clue how to adjust to motherhood. I mean, when you're pregnant, it's all rainbows & unicorns, right? Gifts and baby name books and decorating the nursery and buying tiny diapers and oh, God, do not waste your money on a freaking WIPE WARMER, people. I avoid baby showers to this day because I want to stand up and say:

"You know what? You're going to love this child more than anything in the world. You're going to kiss it and hug it and stare at every perfect little part of it. But it's going to yell at you from day one, demand things you don't know how to provide, likely pee on you, have stomach viruses, bring home head lice (not us YET, thank God), fail tests, forget to turn in homework, say "fuck" at school, spit on a girl who's been bullying him, protest eating anything but chicken & cheese, balk at going to church, balk at going anywhere, refuse to go to sleep at night, refuse to sleep ALL night, kick the backseat of your car in a temper fit, grout the tile floor with pancake syrup, throw something across the room & split his brother's forehead, wreck your car, etc. You're going to realize what unfettered craziness results when an egg and sperm unite and combine HIS genes with YOURS. Holy shit - NO ONE can prepare you for this. It can be like Pat Robertson marrying Kim Kardashian. GENES GONE WILD! You won't know how to handle it. You're going to want to take something, ANYTHING, to deal with the stress & you're going to lose your temper more times than you can count. But even though you will likely lose your temper & say mean things to them, spank them, lock them in their room, you're going to love that child through it all, savor the good times & spend his teen years planning the vacation you're going on when you drop him (or her) at college or bartending school."

Thank you. Now I'll take a piece of cake. And you better have cake dammit. (I hate those frou-frou showers where they have food and petit fours. Showers mean CAKE, people. Not TURKEY.)

But I digress. That was my first mild depression a year or so into #1. I started taking Prozac & seeing a therapist & got much, much better. My world had color again. I loved being a mom & maybe more importantly, I liked and enjoyed it. Then a few years later, I endured a crisis with my in-laws that cut to the core of who I am and left me very, very ANGRY. I was wrongly judged, disrespected & hurt. And I didn't want to be a part of that family, except for the fact that I was completely & totally in love with their son. And the end result of this was that I plummeted back to the depths of depression and even for the first time in my life began to gain weight. Eating to soothe hurt. A common symptom. Sadness. Not wanting to get out of bed. And especially this time, anger. I went back to the doctor and said, "I need to start Prozac again. NOW. Thank you." And I got better, both from the medicine and from distancing myself from the situation. Although I never got an apology from the person who hurt me the most, I've learned to live with it. I've never been a good forgetter. (Remember those genes I discussed earlier?) Bottom line: I got better. The kids survived. My marriage survived. Life went on. And then out of the blue for seemingly NO apparent reason, the Prozac decided in October of this year that it would cease to work. Overnight.

I distinctly remember getting out of bed one morning and thinking, "I don't want to get up today. I don't want to do anything today. Not make lunches. Not drop the kids off. Not go for a run. Nothing." We all have bad days but something in the back of my head told me this was different. I had no reason to be feeling this way. My marriage was at a peak, our sex life was great (I know - you're welcome), the kids seemed happy for the most part, my holiday sessions were booking, life was GRAND, right? Anthropologie was opening for God's sake, the holidays, that I usually LOVE, were on their way, I was turning 41 which certainly beats not having a birthday. What was wrong? I decided it was nothing that seeing Gary Allan in concert wouldn't cure so I took Ryder and a friend and we spent the weekend at my dad's and took in the concert. I will say that for that 3 hour period, I was NOT depressed at all, but in heaven. Sadly, I couldn't go on tour & had to return. Now if you know anything about Gary, you know he's had immeasurable sadness in his life with the sudden suicide of his wife. And at the end of his shows, his dog Lucy comes out and greets all the band members, sits on stage for the final number and then walks off the stage with Gary. That night I saw the total happiness that the dog seemed to bring to him (and had seen an interview previously where he talked about it) and I decided that's what I needed. A dog would make me happy. I always had dogs as a child and we had never had one despite desperate pleas from the kids. So I toyed with the idea and just as I was getting consumed with it, a friend texted me a photo of his dog dressed as a superhero. His adorable dog dressed as a SUPERHERO, people. I had to have one. So we got one. Not a puggle like "superhero puppy" but an adorable 1/2 dachsund, 1/2 pomeranian from a rescue in Missouri. (I raised the white flag in the puggle war & accepted defeat.) And I have to admit Apollo has helped me tremendously. There's something to be said for therapy dogs because when you're feeling down, there's nothing like a nap with a mutt to calm your nerves. Just the fact that he lays at my feet as I work is comforting. But unfortunately, he was not enough.

The sad thing is I don't even remember some of November. At one point all three men in the house had strep and stomach viruses within a week of each other. You've read about that several entries below. Then Chuck had another vertigo attack and have I mentioned that his fall travel schedule is insane? That didn't help. I made it through Thanksgiving but in all honesty, had to think for about 5 minutes before I remembered what we cooked this year. And through it all I was keeping up my Facebook statuses, entertaining the masses with my wit & wishing I was anywhere but where I was. And I was still thinking that THIS TIME was different because I was just struck overnight & I have this wonderful life and nothing to complain or be sad about. I was also still taking my Prozac thinking that surely it would kick in again. Then December rolled around and things got really, really dark.

Darker than I feel like sharing all the details of, actually. And you know if I'M not willing to share, it must be dark. December is my favorite winter month. I love shopping for gifts, making gifts, decorating the trees, watching Christmas movies (Olive the Other Reindeer, anyone?), getting a new Christmas CD, wrapping up my busy season, baking treats for people, celebrating my birthday......I LOVE DECEMBER. But this year was horrible. I cried often. Mostly for no apparent reason and luckily it would usually hit between 1 & 4 in the morning. Easy to escape to the shower so no kids heard. I would sit in the shower until all the hot water ran out and then sometimes get in bed and continue crying while my sweet husband just told me everything was going to be fine. It must have been terribly hard for him to understand. When I felt the crying hit during "regular business hours" or basically when the kids were around, I would just leave and go somewhere and park and cry in the truck. I faked happiness a lot. But the kids were picking up on it. Chuck put up the tree and instead of my usual bitching that it's not perfectly straight I walked in and said, "Looks fine. Whatever." (THAT was a watershed moment for sure.) Then I put lights on it, that promptly went out, started decorating it and 3 boxes into my 20 boxes of ornaments, said to myself, "I can't do this." I had intentions of finishing it later but you know what they say about good intentions. My dad and stepmom came to let us have a night in a hotel for my birthday and we attended two Christmas parties. I got dressed up & we looked like any happy couple. I had a little too much wine but we had a great time. Except at about 2:30 in the morning when I woke up crying as usual. We went out the next night to Bruno's with friends and had a great time. Another friend even stopped by the table to tell me how much she loves me and how happy my Facebook posts make her & all I could think was that my life was such a paradox at that moment. Making people happy while feeling like shit. Having fun with friends gave me hope things were getting better. But only for a short while. I let the kids down terribly at Christmas. Chuck did 95% of the shopping. I didn't get their stockings out of the attic. I never finished the tree. We didn't bake cookies for Santa. I didn't bake for anyone. I never got their Christmas Eve pajamas. They noticed. I will feel guilty for the rest of my life. It just wasn't me.

New Year's Eve was the breaking point. Chuck and I went to dinner. (It's mom's tradition to keep the boys that night ALL night. She had them and Ryder was at home getting ready for her night out.) We were at Bravo, my new favorite restaurant, and we ate and I said something about having time together, after Ryder was at her party, just the two of us & Chuck sprung on me that he had a headache and just wanted to go home and go to sleep. It seems silly now but that was my breaking point. I left Bravo in tears & cried most of the rest of the evening. After I got Ryder to her party, I came home & really lost it. (Actually I lost it in the car first. Sort of a sneak preview of things to come.) You can't know how frustrating it is to be unhappy and not know why. It must be worse for your spouse to be unhappy & you not know why. I confessed how low I had actually been. Again, nothing I want to share here, but to end this saga, the next weekday Chuck made me go to the doctor & my medication was changed to Lexapro. It's been a slow journey back. It's not an overnight cure but I'm getting there. I have good days with a low one now and then and according to the doctor (& Google) that means it's working. The low ones will become fewer and further between. I'm back to exercising, which I had really cut back on because I just didn't have the motivation to get out. I even rejoined a gym which is a huge step for me.

Before I end, I'd like to clarify a couple things. First, my weight loss had nothing to do with my depression. I started my fitness program back in May and if anything, gained a little back during the period of depression. I'm just glad I sought help before I ended up right back where I started fitness-wise. Secondly, I only talked to a couple people during this time about how I was feeling & if you take anything away from me sharing this, please take away that depression has NOTHING to do with what you're blessed with. You can have wonderful kids, a good marriage, a husband who provides well and has had the same job for 19 years, a job you have doing what you love, working when you want, good looks, good body (not talking about myself in all of these, folks!), supportive family members, etc. & when your serotonin &/or dopamine levels decide to plummet, it just doesn't matter. Although they CAN crash due to divorce, job loss, or death of a loved one, they can also take a dive for no apparent reason. So telling a depressed person to think of what they have to be thankful for is not a bad thing for that person to do but certainly not a cure. In any way. Third, do not be afraid to seek medical help for depression. It's the only way out. Also, to the couple of people who I did confide in besides Chuck, thank you for caring and listening & reading my long, rambling texts. You know who you are.