Amo, Amas, Amat.....

There are certain words and phrases that plant themselves in one's consciousness and just won't leave. Lately, Quahog has been amongst them. (Nice, eh? I've no idea where it came from or what it means. Maybe if I looked it up it would leave me alone.) At some point in the last couple of years I thought I might have to write a musical just to make good use of all the particular words that popped constantly into my head like so much angry syntax seeking to either distract or destroy. And then lately, there's Plausible Deniability. It's like that blasted golden snitch, hovering, flitting, nigh to impossible to nail down.

What does it mean? Well, this is enlightening. I suppose that's part of my recoil at the term. Yes, definitely. Comparing an individual to such colossal abuse of power would be silly, really. The scale is all wrong.

But still, the term hangs out in my head, poking me. Why?

Well, I'd like to think of myself as a good person. Wouldn't we all? Still, I don't think I do nearly enough, think nearly enough on worthy things, I don't have a handle on this business of life at. all. This is not to say that I'm some sort of axe murderer or something. Heavens, no. I'm just... I'm just...

A person. A predictably fallible human. A regular mess.

Perhaps this is why I so very dearly love the concepts of grace, restoration, redemption. I'll probably be able to form a coherent thesis on these topics sometime in the next couple of decades or so (snort). For now, I only have this: I think being human is a marvelous gift, a worthy and soaring adventure, and a small glimpse of both heaven and hell. On alternating days. It's a right and responsibility to live this time here with joy, with abandon, with respect and tender care for those entrusted to us. There's so much to do here, so much love to revel wildly in, so many hugs of understanding, so many positively blinding moments of intimacy to share.

So (swerving wildly--come along, I'm distracting you). Let's have a gratitude list. It's been far too long and it is that month again. Without further ado, I'm thankful for:

~My children, who make my heart swell. I'm lucky, no, blessed to be their mama.
~Some of the very most special people ever--fantastic talents, empathetic, smart as can be. I am glad to have time in their presence, happy indeed that they'll hang out with me.
~Church. Worship, reflection, a space in which to just sit still and be quiet (even Q cooperates most of the time)--these things don't just show up every day. Unless one runs out of gas whilst the kids are elsewhere.
~Q loves life. This in itself nearly knocks me over. Every time he laughs, every time I think about it, I'm just about on the floor. No kidding.
~My punkins and I have a warm place to be, with people who love us very much indeed.
~As crazy as my neuro processes sometimes make me (and many of those unfortunate enough to be caught up in my quest to understand), I really like my brain. Sometimes it scares me, but more often I find I'm having fun learning more about it's variables and constants. What a ride.
~That pain does not take the day. That sorrow doesn't have the last word, that the seemingly inescapable, truly horrid stuff, even as it reduces things to ashes, doesn't drive life.
~That I'm not in my twenties anymore. (If you are, I hope you're sucking the marrow from the bones of it and all, but you will love getting older. Trust me. So much less kerfuffle. Or maybe not. Anyway...)
~Good muscles. Opportunities to use them, make them stronger, stretch them out and feeeel that flexibility. A strong back. A healthy self.
~*Meds that work. We may be on the verge of another adjustment (I keep saying that, don't I?), but so far, we've been really blessed to have the first medicine attempted actually work.
~Trader Joe's. What do I not love there? Well, I'm not so much into the meat section. (The paper that a certain person wrote in med school on Creutzfeldt-Jakob fixed that once and for all.) The wine isn't my thing (though there've been days...). But have you had their Chard of Many Colors? Their Ginger Granola? Their Italian yogurt? Their cookies? And, oh, the prices. Very nice. A Useful Thing, that store. I adore Useful Things.
~More about Useful Things. Baskets. Shelving. Bookcases. Containers. I do not exaggerate when I say that I have feelings of great fondness for them. I spent (the grad school) years waiting to afford such decadent things as containers. Shoe boxes and such worked for awhile, but the kids are bigger now. There have been some recent donations, hand me downs of such delightful items. Scuffed? Who cares? It works, it's organized, and life is movin' on.
~The van keeps on going.
~The computer keeps on going.
~I keep on going. With a veritable gallery of (mostly invisible) cheerleaders, one foot in front of the other, we're making it. The kids are mostly happy, growing, and learning the coolest stuff.
~Cute things that pop out of the little mouths. S, following a discussion on Starbucks, came flying back into the kitchen to say, all bright and happy, "I know why it's called Starbucks!" Me, anxious to hear the mystery solved: "You do? Why?" S, hopping like a sprite: "Because it has a star on it and it costs bucks!" Out she flits.
~Gratitude lists. The time to reflect upon good things and the people with whom I share them. Mwaaa.

In other news:

*(A small whine here: I've thought about this and it is not remotely an exaggeration for me to say that I hate those stupid medicine droppers. Hate them. Can anyone seriously believe that they're accurate? When dosing a med that requires one to scrape up stray droplets in order to ensure the child receives as much of the intended dose as possible, this nasty little piece of plastic is what I'm supposed to do it with? Surely I'm not the only person in the world who actually wears out dosing syringes. There must be others who have to use the syringe friendly bottle adaptor because the syringe won't fit into the bottle--said adaptors seem to be growing scarce. But this ridiculous thing as an alternative? Really? Because someone can do better than this. C'mon--do it in the name of Useful Things everywhere.)

K got her spacer/expander in today. She's a little sore, but being so brave and cute. We adjust it the first time tomorrow. I so hope this goes well. Still cringing about the money there, but it's considerably less with the dentist than it would be with an orthodontist. My "spacer" done in the same manner at about the same age, worked wonderfully well for me. So we're crossing our fingers and praying about several aspects of that situation.

Last week I had G and E both taking math tests. G flew through his, E was taking forever. I did my standard spiel when they struggle: "You can do it. You know this. If you need to go on to the next problem and come back that's fine." Soothe, soothe, pat, pat. G finished up and brought me his test to correct. Pull out the key and... Wait a second. Why don't any of the answers match up? Ummm. Silly mommy switched the tests. G got 100% (as well he should have), E got 70%. Not too shabby for the girl, huh? I was pretty proud. When I discovered my mistake, I told her if she finished the test and passed it, I'd consider letting her test out of some upcoming sections of the book. She'll take a test tomorrow and we'll see how it goes.

Lastly, a prayer request.

I don't even know how to say any of the things one might say under the circumstances. We have a court date on Thursday (11/8). I feel sick. Really. Physically ill. I don't know what to pray for here. I don't know what to hope for. I don't know if anything good can come of any part of this mess--past, present or future. Perhaps I'm now just focusing on Someone being so thoroughly in control that we all get precisely what we need, with the grown-ups' wants falling way to the bottom of the priorities. Of course, different people would have different definitions there.

Also, the families that I've mentioned previously? They're struggling valiantly, taking on those Herculean tasks every day and could use any bolstering you might spare. There's also a friend of a friend (from college), someone whose birthday is eerily close to mine. This week he and his family learned that he likely has less than a year to live. Horrible, horrible, horrible. His family has survived much, but this is too much to ask anyone to survive. No one should bury their babies, no matter their age. If you think of it, he, his mom and extended family could also use your virtual hugs and fervent prayers.

I'm going to have to go lie down. Fighting the nausea is becoming an overwhelming task.

Thank you for thinking of us, praying for us, being in this with us all.